
Ten years ago I took this photo of Mount St. Helens from a ridge six miles away that was directly in the blast zone. — Photo by Pat Bean
“If you are too focused on the end result, you may miss the rewarding journey that will ultimately get you there.” – Anil Kuma Sinhar
Ten years ago, I was still living and traveling full time in my small RV with my canine companion Maggie. This was the year that I visited Mount St Helens.
Looking out at the gaping mouth of Mount St. Helens from a point six miles away once known as Coldwater Ridge triggered goose pimples on my arms. I knew that David Johnston, the first to report the volcano’s eruption, had been standing on this same ridge, a spot that stood directly in the volcano’s blast zone. The 30-year-old Johnston had been one of 57 people who lost their lives to the angry mountain.
As I noted the 40th anniversary of that tragic event as I drank my coffee and caught up on world news this morning, images of my visit to that once again sleeping volcano dug their way to the surface of my thoughts.
What I remembered, and confirmed by the photos that I had taken at the time, was that life was returning to the blast area. Grasses and trees were reestablishing themselves, and flowers were blooming.
Life changes but it goes on, as it has for millions of years. As it will after the coronavirus is conquered. Not all of us will make it. Whether the virus gets us, a truck runs over us in the middle of the street, a crazed madman shoots us at a MacDonald’s, or we simply run out of the days allotted to us, we’re not going to get out of this world alive.
Focusing on when that final day will be is not something I’m going to do. Instead, I’m going to simply treasure every minute I have left on this planet, and just keep going until my tomorrows run out.
I’m glad today for the memory of looking out on Mount St. Helens as it returned to life and the reminder that view offered me to savor every moment because tomorrow may not come. Everyone dies – but not everyone lives.
Bean Pat: To all those on the front row helping others survive the coronavirus.
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon, and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
Great reminder of our place in the scheme of things. Sobering yet uplifting. Enjoying every moment is the key to inner peace, I agree.
I remember “our” trip there it was so beautiful and I loved the pix.
absolutely stunning shot! it was probably just about ten years ago–no–probably more like twelve–that i and my two motorcycle buddies (women) rode out on Windy Ridge. I have vertigo and fought with the wind. Finally pulled over and tho they assured me it was only about another mile, i just couldn’t do it. my head was swimming. Windy Ridge really lived up to it’s name an on a motorcycle was tough for me. the other two ladies went on to the end of the road. i had a couple other roads during the time i rode that did the same thing. but i’ll never forget that vista.
You’ve reminded me of a poem by Rosalía de Castro:
https://steemit.com/poetry/@webosfritos/one-spanish-poem-a-day-spanish-english-13-hora-tras-hora-dia-tras-dia-hour-after-hour-day-after-day-rosalia-de-castro