Like most Americans who were raised in the East and born after the mid 1970s or so, volcanoes are something I associate with middle school science classes and dramatic pictures of Mount Saint Helens and its 1980 eruption. Even after I became enthralled with backpacking and natural landscapes after frequent trips to the sandstone wonderlands of the Cumberland Plateau and the forested slopes of the ancient Appalachian Mountains, hiking around a volcano seemed like a ludicrously exotic experience. When I got the chance to actually hike around a volcano last summer, the experience proved to be even more ludicrously exotic than I could have imagined.

While a volcano as dramatic, powerful, and prominent as Mount Saint Helens needs no introduction, I feel compelled, in the interest of quality to journalism, to provide at a least a brief overview of the mountain and the Loowit Trail: One of six stratovolcanoes in Washington, Mount Saint Helens is widely known for its May 1980 eruption. Prior to eruption, the mountain had an elevation of approximately 9,600 feet. After the eruption, the elevation was reduced to approximately 8,363 feet.

The Loowit Trail

Circumambulating the mountain, the approximately 28 mile Loowit Trail (which gains around 6,000 feet of elevation during its course) offers an incredible sampling of scenery: wildflowers, waterfalls, glaciers, recovering volcanic blast zone, views of adjacent volcanic peaks, old-growth forest, lakes, and stunning displays of geologic forces. Best in early July to mid-August, the Loowit Trail (“Loowit” is the name of the indigenous Klickitat for Mount Saint Helens) is less crowded than many other mountain trails in Washington and does not currently require permits. The trail does have some difficult terrain, particularly gullies that need to be crossed and which change from year to year in regard to difficulty. Limited campsites and limited shade on most of the trail further round out the trail and provide challenges and charms, depending on your perspective.

When I left the trailhead to start my hike, it is not an understatement to say that I did so with a childlike sense of wonder and anticipation. After less than a half-hour of hiking, June Lake and a beautiful waterfall on its far shore, which is actually quite near as June Lake is a small body of water, provided the first of countless enchanting scenes. A short and steep climb from the lake, with some large trees adding to the ambience, led to the junction with the Loowit Trail. The forest thinned as I walked west and the largesse of Mount Saint Helens came into full focus.

The footpath threaded through slopes of volcanic rubble and the snowcapped mountain unequivocally dominated the view to the north. After only a few steps down the trail, my neck cocked to the right to take full advantage of the scene, the distinction between hiking in mountains and around a mountain became apparent. This massive landform would be the focus for three days – its nuances and dramatic features available for constant observation. Somewhat ashamedly, I must admit that like my trip the previous year along the Selway River Trail, there was a bit of trepidation about committing to a trip based solely on one feature. And exactly like with that trip, after only a few miles into the trail I knew that there was no way I would be disappointed by any real or imagined monotony of scenery.

On most of my backpacking trips, I find myself in simple awe of the mountainous beauty or appreciating the feeling of immersion in a landscape that you can get when hiking through high deserts or along beautiful rivers. On the Loowit Trail, I found myself confronted with notions of scale, time, power, and regeneration that I’d previously only pondered in the most abstract and as individual phenomenons. The landscape that I was passing through provided exemplary examples of each and, while obviously impressive separately, are absolutely mindblowing to consider when placed in a more immediate and holistic context.

Perhaps no experience on a trail has left me more speechless than the first few miles I covered on my second day on the Loowit Trail. I awoke in a verdant old-growth forest and was quite literally immersed in the landscape. The only available spot I could find to camp after descending from the flank of the mountain to near the South Fork Toutle River was a flat spot on a steep slope above a small creek. Perfect for a quick dinner and one night’s sleep and, since there wasn’t enough room to set up my tent, an amazing place to open my eyes in the morning and see first light of day filtering through the old growth canopy.

I was on the trail quickly, appreciating the time saved by not having to pack up a tent, and headed toward to the crossing of the South Fork of the Toutle River. Although the scramble up the opposite shore was fairly challenging, the crossing of the river itself was a simple rock hop. Later in the day it becomes more difficult, as other hikers on the trail commented, since it becomes flush with meltwater from higher up on the mountain. As I followed the trail up the mountainside and paralleling the river, the effects of the eruption become more raw in the appearance – virtually the entire watershed was denuded and the slopes seemed impossibly steep and unstable. Wind whipped the dusty terrain far up the miniature canyons, separated by a vegetated protrusion that added to the surreal atmosphere, and created an eerie scene that contradicted the verdant old-growth forest I had left shortly behind with a nearly belligerent intensity.

The trail soon leveled out and curved away from this most striking scene, then passed through a wildflower filled meadow with views of distant mountains as well as the ever-present bulge of Mount Saint Helens nearby. With perplexingly limited distance for transition, especially in proportion to the dramatic shift in scenery, the landscape changed to one of the starkest and otherworldly I have ever seen. For miles, the trail weaved across a sparsely vegetated expanse of land that was occasionally interrupted by gullies of silty meltwater and which stretched to the shores of Spirit Lake – with innumerable dead trees floating in it and testifying to the power of the eruption – to the towering chasms of the mountain’s north side that stretched into the crater itself.

Hiking through the blast zone was impressive in a way unlike any other landscape I’ve encountered in a decade of backpacking everywhere from coastal barrier islands off the Georgia coast to Arizona’s “sky islands” and the grandeur of Glacier National Park. I took a brief lunch break at Loowit Falls, which is one of the most intriguing features of the blast zone section of the Loowit Trail. Spilling forth from the center of the mountain and dropping about 200 feet (the constantly sliding and shifting nature of the mountain’s drainages results in almost annual variations for most water-related features) this is one of the most mesmerizing combinations of water and gravity I’ve encountered.

I’ve always tried to wrap my head around geologic time and appreciate the long term forces that result in arches, waterfalls, caves, and mountains. The notion that knowledge, comprehension, and understanding are distinct concepts has kept me fairly humbled in that regard, but I have grown to appreciate the themes at work and the time taken. Recognizing and attempting to absorb that much of the scenery I was passing through had been altered drastically almost instantaneously during the eruption was a truly remarkable experience.

Leaving the blast zone behind and turning southward, views of Mount Adams – some thirty miles distant – began to punctuate the horizon and some of the most vibrant colors and densest concentrations of Indian Paintbrush appeared beside the trail. Soon I had made my way to Pumice Butte in the appropriately named Plains of Abraham which stretched, table flat, to the eastern flanks of the upper reaches of the mountain which rose dramatically to the summit rim.

A small stream, fed by the snow and ice of the mountain’s upper reaches, spilled over a precipice and into a canyon below. Safely perched a few dozen feet back from the drop off was a basin scoured into the bedrock and the perfect size for a quick submersion to rinse off the dust from the day’s hike. The water was frigid, but I willed myself to relax long enough to enjoy looking over my toes at Mount Adams in the distance and fully appreciate the cool water running over my body. Standing up and looking back at Mount Helens while I let the evening sun dry me off was simply blissful.

A Final Evening and Next Day

Mountain sunsets are always amazing and the campsite at Pumice Butte provides a two-for-one deal – both the eastern side of Mount Saint Helens and the western side of Mount Saint Helens captured my attention as the changing light brought out subtleties of color and texture for a few moments at a time. The same two-for-one deal was offered at sunrise as well – what a bargain!

Continuing on the following day, several waterfalls and dramatic gullies and mountain scenes kept me enraptured as I came full circle on the journey. An unexpected treat almost at the end – an aquamarine tarn hidden in the forest shortly before the junction with June Lake – provided me with a final point of fascination and another opportunity for a frigid dip. As cliché as it is to say that something is greater than the sum of its parts, I can’t think of anywhere that this is more true than Mount Saint Helens. Spellbinding doesn’t begin to describe the journey, which unfolds at a perfect pace for backpackers.

Need to Know

Information

Trail conditions on the Loowit change from year to year, especially the gully crossings, so it is recommended to check in for current conditions prior to your trip. The Gifford Pinchot National Forest webpage for the Loowit Trail is a useful resource.

Getting There

The Loowit Trail can be accessed from several trailheads, such as June Lake or the Windy Ridge trailheads. These are located near Randle and Cougar, WA.

Best Time to Go

July into August for summer hiking conditions and scenery.

Maps and Books

Backpacking Washington: From Volcanic Peaks to Rainforest Valleys covers this hike and more in the state, and a Trails Illustrated map covering the area can be found here at REI Co-op. For getting to and from the trailhead and exploring other destinations in the state, the Delorme Washington Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful.

Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 37 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for more photos and content.