Choosing Our Destiny

Give yourself permission to immediately walk away from anything that gives you bad vibes.

~Author Unknown

I was beyond ecstatic. My chance had come! I’d even gotten up at 5 a.m. to hide pancake mix and syrup in the bottom of the large picnic basket. Now I was panicked that my husband was going to ruin my carefully thought-out plan!

“Honey, I have no idea why you packed breakfast items in this basket,” he declared with a look of confusion on his normally smiling face. “Let’s just stick with coffee, juice, and snacks for the kids. The plan is to be there for just a few hours.”

“Well, hon,” I began nonchalantly, “I was thinking that I’d spend the night. You and the kids can come home this evening, and I’ll catch a ride with Bob and Beverly tomorrow.”

“You know the authorities are not going to allow you to spend the night, so I suggest you get that idea out of your head right now,” he chided. “Besides, Bob has told you repeatedly that it’s way too dangerous!”

My husband knew how desperately I’d been trying to get to the mountain for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to observe and photograph the phenomenal volcanic activity. However, he did not share or understand my adrenaline-charged enthusiasm to spend the night.

Knowing I was not going to win this argument easily, I decided to change the subject and figure out something when it was time to return home.

It was early Saturday morning, May 17, 1980, the day before the devastating eruption of Mount St. Helens. Authorities had given the few property owners permission to enter the restricted danger area near Spirit Lake for a few hours to retrieve their possessions. My parents and brother had cabins within the danger zone.

My husband, the kids and I were driving the fifty miles from Portland to the mountain in southwestern Washington to help my parents gather some belongings, and to visit with my brother and his girlfriend who were already at their cabin.

Bob and Beverly were amateur volcanologists who had been granted permission to stay at his cabin and monitor the volcanic activity. Bob was a research scientist by trade, but without credentials in this particular field. He loved learning and jumped at the opportunity to study an active volcano quite literally in his own back yard.

I had begged my brother continually to take me along on his weekend visits. He refused, arguing that he would be compromising his own authorization to be there by infringing on the agreement. He was also well aware of the danger, and I’m sure he felt a need to protect me.

But I needed to be there! It was difficult to explain. It was as though the mountain was a powerful magnet pulling me.

We were the first ones to arrive at the huge gate that blockaded the “red zone.” This gave us a chance to observe the surrounding area. Everything was oddly quiet and eerie. My brother’s car was parked just off the road where he had left it to bicycle the final five miles to the cabin.

The deer and elk stood motionless along the roadway. They seemed to sense that danger was looming.

Once in a while, we could feel a little tremor under our feet, a reminder that the mountain was not motionless. I embraced the thrill of it and felt even more compelled to stay the night.

After signing liability releases, we were escorted by state troopers to the cabin area. While the rest of the family checked out my parents’ cabin, I hiked down the gravel road to check in with my brother. Bob and Beverly were on their deck surrounded by telescopes and cameras with powerful zoom lenses. News reporters were already there interviewing them about their volcano-monitoring experience.

“Hi, sis,” he beamed, obviously happy to see that we’d made it. “Do you guys want to run up to the base of the mountain in a bit?”

“Try to stop me,” I laughed.

An hour later, as we sat on the ash-covered asphalt where hitherto snowmobilers and mountain climbers had parked, the ground trembled gently beneath us. Although it was a bit eerie knowing we were the only people sitting that close to the mountain, in a sense it was also very peaceful, and my mind wandered back through the years of picking huckleberries, swimming in Spirit Lake, and snowmobiling with family and friends on this mountain.

While staring at the mountain from this vantage point, a feeling of finality engulfed me, and I knew things were never going to be the same. My desire to spend the night suddenly vanished. It had nothing to do with fear; rather, something spoke to me. “Go home with your family,” it said, as clearly as if the words were uttered aloud.

After gathering a few irreplaceable items from my parents’ cabin, we visited with Bob and Beverly for a short time at his place. When we said goodbye, an uncanny feeling came over me as I beheld my brother’s smiling face. It was the happiest I’d ever seen him. I will never forget that smile!

The next morning at 8:32, a huge earthquake caused the entire north face of the mountain to slide away, creating the largest landslide ever recorded. Bob and Beverly were in the direct path of the blast. They were among the fifty-seven people who lost their lives — two of the three who were within the declared danger zone; the other being the infamous Harry R. Truman. Their bodies were never recovered.

Although I found solace in knowing that Bob was well aware of the risk he was taking, I still wished I had tried to persuade him to leave with us — but I knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t have gone. He was far too captivated by his study of the volcano, and he loved spending every moment possible at his cabin. I completely understood.

I had listened to my premonition and made the choice to go home; in like manner, Bob chose the mountain as his final resting place with the girl he loved. I am completely at peace with our decisions — and I believe Bob and Beverly are as well.

— Connie Kaseweter Pullen —