This is damn interesting.

The Washington State Deputy Sheriff looked suspiciously at the motorcycle strapped to the back of the odd little

French car. The motorcycle was a recently repaired Honda 90 sporting a fresh coat of gray spray

paint. The driver, Robert Rogers, kept a neutral expression as the officer examined his

pass for the red zone that now surrounded the volcano Mount St. Helens.

Rogers knew everything was in order. Normally, Rogers didn't care much for rules or regulations.

He was a trespasser. The 29-year-old regularly climbed Portland's city bridges, radio towers,

and high-rises, often at night to avoid police. He'd also recently lost

his job as a radio engineer, so work no longer interfered with his exploits. But the newly

installed tight security around Mount St. Helens made compliance necessary. The officer waved him

through, and Rogers drove into the red zone. Even if his

pass hadn't worked, he would have found another way in. Rogers knew the terrain surrounding

this mountain better than anyone. Nothing was going to keep him from his grand plan, hiking into

the newly formed Mount St. Helens crater. And he was going to do it on the 18th of May

1981. The anniversary of the day this mountain nearly took his life. Mount St. Helens was one of three

snow-capped cascades visible from the city of Portland, each one as triangular as a child's

drawing. For centuries, Mount St. Helens was known to the Cowlitts people as Llela, the one who smokes.

But in the 91 years since Washington had joined the United States in 1889, the mountain had been

silent.

Many of the people who vacationed in the lodges and cabins in Mount St. Helens's shadow

had a hard time believing it was really a volcano.

That changed on the 20th of March, 1980.

...