Environment: New Life Under the Volcano

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Outside the monument, where nature is allowed an assist from man, recovery has been even more striking. The Weyerhaeuser Co., which lost 60,000 acres of timber when Mount St. Helens blew, finished replanting conifers last fall. In Clearwater Canyon, nine miles from the center of the blast, one-acre test plots set up in 1981 are flourishing. Douglas, noble, grand and Pacific silver firs planted by the Forest Service staff have enjoyed an almost 90% survival rate. Some are already 12 ft. tall. "The trees are growing faster than normal," says Eugene Sloniker, a Forest Service silviculturist. The impressive growth rate of these species is partly attributable to the fact that they were the first ones reintroduced. Explains Sloniker: "They have had less competition."

The reopening of the mountain worries scientists at the U.S. Geological Survey. Reason: the vulnerability of sensitive, untended monitoring equipment that provides a constant readout of the peak's vital signs. Hikers are given a handout warning that tampering with seismometers, tiltmeters and other equipment would cripple the USGS early-warning system and could lead to the reclosing of the mountain. Although geologists feel comfortable with their ability to predict the behavior of Mount St. Helens itself, they freely admit that the inner workings of the volcano are still a mystery. Says Research Geologist C. Dan Miller, who assesses volcano hazard for the USGS: "We learn as we go along. There is really no alternative to studying each volcano."

Geologists who have been monitoring Mount St. Helens' hiccups since 1980 have predicted all but one volcanic event and believe they can continue to do so. As long as the volcano remains dormant, more and more people are certain to come and marvel at what Jerry Franklin, the Forest Service's chief plant ecologist, calls "the resilience of nature." Since the $5.3 million Mount St. Helens visitor center opened in nearby Silver Lake last December, more than 150,000 people have paraded through its exhibits. Now they can see the mountain for themselves. "We've got quite a way to go yet," says Franklin. "We're 10% along the way. In another hundred years, we'll have a canopied forest."