Remembering May 18

Published 1:30 am Thursday, May 21, 2026

Monday, May 18, marked another anniversary of a moment many in the Northwest can recall with surprising clarity, not unlike asking where someone was when history changed in an instant.

On Sunday, May 18, 1980, at 8:32 a.m., I was digging clams on the beach at Kalaloch when a tremendous boom rolled across the coast. It was felt as much as heard. No one around us knew what had happened. There were no cell phones, no alerts buzzing in pockets, only speculation.

Hours later, we learned that Mount St. Helens had erupted.

What remains fascinating decades later is how differently people experienced the same event. Those living relatively close to the volcano sometimes heard nothing at all. Others were near enough to witness the eruption column rising into the sky. Several recalled fishing at Sekiu and feeling an odd vibration through the water before understanding its cause. Others remember wildlife behaving strangely, birds quiet, animals unsettled, followed by an eerie silence.

Many tell of the sky darkening in the middle of the day as ash clouds spread. Drivers unexpectedly found themselves navigating falling ash, while some travelers became stranded for days, unable to return home.

One person shared that his dad became the last person to drive across the Toutle River Bridge before the catastrophic torrent of mud, logs, and debris swept through. Another family, camping that morning, assumed nearby landowners must be blasting stumps, an ordinary explanation for what turned out to be anything but ordinary.

History books record the eruption in statistics: 57 lives lost, forests flattened, rivers altered, and landscapes permanently changed. But anniversaries tend to bring forward the smaller stories, where people were, what they heard, what they thought was happening in those first uncertain moments.

Those personal memories may be just as important as the official record. They remind us that major events are experienced by one person, one family, and one unexpected Sunday morning at a time.

Christi Baron

Editor