The Northwest Rider

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It began to rain (again) as I pulled off of I-5 into Castle Rock, Washington.  I wondered to myself whether this afternoon’s attempt to reach the Johnson Ridge Observatory near Mount Saint Helens would be worth the long drive it took to get here.  I had come this far though, well past the half-way point, and the 50 miles that lie ahead, one way or another, would prove to be an adventure. 

The first 10 miles of the Spirit Lake Highway are rural and, though unremarkable, are a nice change from I-5 where I spent the last 3 hours.  At mile 11, where the highway leaps the Toutle River, things start to get interesting.  Here, evidence of the volcano’s effect on the land surrounding it reveals itself, becoming more apparent with every passing mile.  The highway, as it exists today, was reopened in 1992 following 12 years of reconstruction after the 1980 eruption of Mount Saint Helens.  At the time of the blast, the old highway was destroyed near the volcano and washed away throughout the river valley below. 

The valley floor, where the original highway existed, is now awash with ashen silt and is too unstable to support a new road.  For this reason, the highway was relocated from the valley floor and  carved into the hillsides above.  The new highway is a motorcyclist’s dream, smoothly paved with wide shoulders, clearly striped and contoured to the undulating hillside.  Today, due to unpredictable weather, unseasonably cold and wet conditions for March, and the fact that all of the tourist centers are closed, there is virtually no traffic on the road.  I stop frequently to take photos, wandering freely from lane to lane between shoulders.

The Hoffstadt Bridge is the largest of many which carry the highway between hilltops on it’s way to Spirit Lake and to the observatory above. It spans 600 feet, stands 370 feet tall at its highest point, and marks the western edge of the original blast zone, within which virtually every tree standing was laid flat by the force of the volcano.  The rolling hills visible beyond the bridge are said to be mounds of avalanche debris along the zone’s perimeter.  Now ,28 years later, the forest has begun to absorb what was once rendered a barren wasteland by the eruption.

As I reach the snowline at 2500 feet, clouds are moving into the valley just above the hilltops and the temperature is dropping dramatically, now hovering between 32 and 35 degrees.  The road surface is wet, but clear, with no signs of ice.  I take it easy in the turns as I work my way up the highway.  It is eerily quiet but pleasantly isolated up here.

As I eclipse 3000 feet, the temperature drops to just below freezing.  Though the roads themselves are in great condition, slush is now apparent in places.  I am tempted by the sweeping curves beneath my wheels, but decide to reserve more spirited riding for later in the spring.  As I approach the national monument, where the highway twists, repositioning itself for its dive into the valley, I notice that a coarse, gray layer of clouds has formed, obscuring the mountain tops while allowing the white, winter sun to pierce through in places, casting columns of light into the forest below.

Near Coldwater lake, I arrive at what will be my destination for today.  I’ll admit that I saw the sign, as I pulled out of the Shell station in Castle Rock, indicating that the road extension to Johnson Ridge was closed.  Just like I saw the sign a mile further that cautioned ‘Expect Winter Driving Conditions’.  But it has been a long winter, riddled with such signs, and though I have yet to prove any of them wrong, I remained optimistic… until now.   The road to the Johnson Ridge Observatory is, in fact, closed.  A little disappointed but nowhere near defeat, I begin exploring the area around Coldwater Lake.

Though the lakes surrounding Mount St. Helens were decimated by the eruption, Coldwater Lake was actually created by one of many ’debris dams’ that formed as a result of the blast.  Coldwater Lake is now home to a thriving rainbow trout population.  Since the eruption, due to increasing concern over rising water levels with each spring thaw, significant effort has gone into managing water flow from both Spirit and Coldwater Lakes.

Though this ride has not included Johnson Ridge, I am left with a significant sense of adventure and discovery.  The return trip is more about the highway and less about the volcano, which is now a vanishing reflection in my rear view mirror.  Satisfied, I descend past the snow line and open the throttle through the smooth, well marked curves leading west.  50 miles dissolve beneath my wheels in what seems like a heartbeat.  Before I know it I am headed north, toward home, looking forward to my return this summer and to the view from Johnson Ridge.