One of the best, most soul- stirring motorcycle rides in America is to the Windy Ridge observation deck at Mt. St. Helens National Monument in Washington State. If you ever find yourself in the northwestern U.S., do yourself a favor and ride this road.
You get there by riding U.S. Hwy 12 west from Yakima, Wa, through the Cascade Mountain range (in itself, a superb ride), to the town of Randall and then turning off south on Highway 131 which quickly forks into forest rds 23 and 25. Take 25 and then go right on forest rd 26 and right again on forest rd 99 and let it out a little..... Imagine please the most curvy road you have ever ridden, and then triple the pleasure and challenge it gave you. For nearly forty miles this road turns on itself as it winds and dips through one of the last remaining, beautiful, old growth forests in the world... but that in itself does not make it so special......
What does makes it special is when suddenly you enter the death zone. Without warning,in an eye blink, you leave a land of sweet green and clear water and enter a land of death. One corner, and then you're there. Like when you die. The landscape instantly turns into something out of Tolkien or Dante.... the forest has been burned, toppled, smashed flat..... gray ash, dust, and dead trees cover everything...... vast acres of forest giants look like they have simply been blasted free of leaves, bark, limbs, and laid out flat in orderly rows like dead soldiers on some horrific Napoleonic battlefield......the destruction is unbelievable and frightening. There is a beauty to it, but it is a savage beauty.....the kind of beauty that makes one want to paint his face and beat a drum. It hurts to be there; it's like watching a beautiful woman rip out her lover's throat with her teeth.
The road winds on through this dream, this nightmare if you will, until the Windy Ridge Observatory where you gaze into the maw of the monster itself. Still smoking, this "Mountain of Doom" dominates all.... you can't keep from staring at it....it draws you to it like some great precipice, some great awful sea. The feeling is like how I felt the day -- years and years and years ago -- when I first understood, totally, that someday I would die, would not exist. This is what this mountain offers you: inarguable proof that what we know is illusionary, temporary, and totally outside our control. What this mountain tells you is that we mean nothing.
And that you mean nothing is hard to remember when riding a bike. The illusion of super human control, of super human speed, and superhuman power happens the moment you twist the key and fire the bike to life. Instantly, you command more force at your fingertips than untold generations of pre-industrial man. For a few dollars, you are capable of things that even ancient Gods only dreamed about. This is what draws me, over and over again, to the savage, wounded maw of Mt. St. Helens – the brutal message that I am not a God, and will never be......
There are some who can point to the new life that is developing there as a promising message. But to me, it is unimportant and unpromising. To me the message is: poor little man... quit your posing ... you are not great...you are not special.
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