A rare perfectly clear day greeted us as we drove across the mighty Columbia River into Washington State. Mt. Hood loomed over Portland behind us and the snow shrouded domes of Mt. Adams and the infamous Mt. St. Helen's stood in front. Taking a right on Route 504, we winded our way through the valley to the Mt. St. Helen's National Monument visitor center. There was a short film and some amazing footage of the catastrophic 1980 eruption that blew the entire side of the mountain away, generating a plum of ash the encircled the entire planet. I asked the guide advice on a nice hike and he recommended a trek up the road by Coldwater Lake. "Ah, a nice hike through the forest?" I inquired. His reply, "You mean a nice hike through the nothing." You see, from this far away, beside an idyllic lily pond filled with singing birds and crocking frogs, all seems tranquil and calm. But as we drove up the valley, the old growth trees give way to a more adolescent forest and the rivers becomes more silty. And then we entered the 'devastation' zone. Hills upon hills of toppled trees - stripped of their branches and still, over twenty years later, laying like arrows pointing away from the blast. At Johnson Ridge, where the road ends, you can see the scars on the neighboring mountains from the pyroclastic flow that flew down the valley at over 150 miles per hour wiping the land clean of all trees, vegetation and even the top soil. The remains of stumps four feet in diameter show how the ancient trees violently shattered and literally exploded off their foundations. We hiked a bit through the "nothing" and then drove back into the land of the living, north toward Mt. Rainier. We were going to camp but found a little B & B with a hot tub overlooking a trout pond and fir studded hills and a full "country breakfast" all included. When I hesitated, Aili assured me it was Alexander's "Extreme" Country Inn (even though Extreme wasn't on the sign) and I agreed. After all, I'm not against luxury! The next morning we awakened to the grey skies much more common to the region. A patch of blue appeared every now and then and the sun poked out for a look. The mountain was 'hiding' as the locals say, but we still enjoyed a brisk walk up 1500 feet to a ridge just at the snowline. We then drove around the mountain admiring the many waterfalls, some in river beds and some just spontaneously flowing over a granite cliff next to the road, spawned by the snowmelt above. In a few places, we saw the devastating aftermath of landslides - huge trees snapped in half from recent avalanches of snow and soil. Apparently Rainier is one of the most dangerous mountains in the area as the active volcano underneath dislodges heat that quickly melts snow and sets off huge slides with little notice. Signs throughout the park warn of "long rumbling sounds" and to "quickly move uphill and out of river and stream beds" when these sounds are heard. Hmm... I think we'll stay in the car. We stopped at a Forest Service building for the advertised "free coffee" and talked with a friendly ranger who said a climber just died high on the mountain last week - the sixth fatality of the year already. Apparently the weather changed quickly and the climber was stranded. As the ranger told us, "The mountain makes its own weather." He was eager to chat and we realized the hand written sign for the coffee was to lure passers-by into his little hut so he'd have some company for a while. Maybe Park Ranger isn't the best profession for a social person! That night, we drove to Bellevue, just outside Seattle and stayed with my friend from USC, Anand. We barbequed up some steak and seafood and had a few beers while shooting pool before turning in. Tomorrow we check out Seattle for a bit and head to Vancouver.