Volcanoes of DOOM

*** continued from previous post  ***


Thankfully, that was the last incident before we pointed our metal steed over Chinook pass. Ah, Chinook. We are truly fortunate to reside at the base of the Cascades with their miles of great riding roads and spectacular views. Well, unless you count that whole "You're sitting at the bottom of an active volcano - an ACTIVE volcano for God's sakes!" thingee. Wimps and wusses one and all.

Personally I believe thumbing your nose at nature adds to the excitement of living here. I mean, seriously - how many people have this conversation several times a week?

"Mt. Rainier sure is beautiful today."

"Why yes it is. Absolutely gorgeous. I never grow tired of the view. The sunlight on the glaciers - just stunning!"

"That it is It’s like an old friend that always there to greet you."

* Insert Long pause*

"Of course, you know that it could blow any second, and we would have no chance at escape. It would be certain death from the pyroclastic mud flows raging from the melting glaciers."

"Oh I know! We would be screwed! No chance to run."

"Yep screwed. Dead in minutes. So . . . you going to the Daniel's party this weekend?"

Plus, and you know this because you lived it, how many kids get to put together a 'Volcano Emergency Kit' for school every year? That was always a little creepy. Oh, not the peanut-butter crackers or the juice boxes, those are fine. No, it was the 'sealed note' that we, as parents had to write you every year to place in your bag in the unlikely event that you would, at some point, need comforting. I mean really, what can you say as a future dead person to your living child? We never let you peek, but I guess that now that you're all hoity-toity and Naval I can tell you now what we wrote in those letters. I can't remember exactly, so I'm paraphrasing here, but it was along the lines of, 'Hi! We're dead. Don't forget to brush your teeth.', or something like that.

Good thing you never had to use that, huh? Couldn't have been easy for you though. Remember that one special day in third-grade when they would sit you down and explain to you what a volcano was and what volcanoes did - chock full of useful charts and maps and pictures of Mt. St. Helens and Pompeii - and then walked you over to the window and pointed to this huge time-bomb ticking on our horizon? I always knew when they had reached that point in the academic year. It wasn't hard to discerne. Watching a whole herd of eight-year-olds walk out of the class teary-eyed, shell-shocked, and trembling - well, it was obvious. Either they had just had the 'Volcano Talk' or Jimmy had finally choked to death eating the paste. And we all know how the class felt about Jimmy. Wanker.

Anyway, back to our trip.


*** the journey continues tomorrow