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‘We had our tent and sleeping bags out of the car’

Hydrologist recalls David Johnston’s recommendation at Mount St. Helens that saved her life 38 years ago

By Tom Vogt, Columbian Science, Military & History Reporter
Published: May 18, 2018, 6:00am
7 Photos
Hydrologist Carolyn Driedger with a tree trunk in the Cascade Volcano Observatory headquarters in Vancouver. The tree was splintered by the “stone wind” created when Mount St. Helens erupted 38 years ago.
Hydrologist Carolyn Driedger with a tree trunk in the Cascade Volcano Observatory headquarters in Vancouver. The tree was splintered by the “stone wind” created when Mount St. Helens erupted 38 years ago. (Alisha Jucevic/The Columbian) Photo Gallery

Carolyn Driedger and Mindy Brugman drove up to the Mount St. Helens observation point on May 17, 1980, as David Johnston was taking over for geologist Harry Glicken.

Before Glicken left, he had a little fun. He sat in a chair near the edge of the Coldwater II overlook, waving his arms in time to the beat of the volcanic activity as he “conducted” the eruption.

“We were young scientists, jazzed about being this close to the volcano,” said Driedger, who took a photograph of Glicken’s performance.

The on-the-job death rate for the four of them would turn out to be 50 percent.

While studying volcanoes is an exciting field, “There is a whole lot of hardship and heartbreak,” Driedger said.

The two women had planned to spend the night on the point where Johnston was based.

“We had our tent and sleeping bags out of the car,” Driedger said.

But Johnston emphasized how dangerous the spot was. As Driedger recalls the conversation, Johnston said: “Let’s have as few people here as possible.”

So they drove back to Vancouver. Glicken followed them back.

Glicken was actually scheduled to be at Coldwater II in the morning, but a meeting came up and Johnston took the shift.

Johnston was among 57 people killed by the 8:32 a.m. eruption.

Eleven more years

Glicken’s narrow escape gave him 11 more years of life before he died in a 1991 eruption in Japan. And just as Johnston did, Glicken was filling in for another scientist when a volcano killed him.

Driedger now is a hydrologist at Cascade Volcano Observatory in Vancouver, and she is still watching activity at Mount St. Helens. Brugman is a senior meteorological researcher in Canada.

“Carolyn and I are the last two people still alive to have spoken to David” before he died, Brugman told The Columbian in January, when she was featured in a PBS television show about the Mount St. Helens eruption.

Driedger and Glicken stayed in touch over the next decade, including a stretch when the volcanologist was in Japan.

“He was unhappy in Japan,” Driedger said. “He was calling in the middle of the night, asking if any jobs were open.”

Glicken was staying with a couple in Tokyo. The man was supposed to accompany a group of volcanologists and journalists to Mount Unzen on June 1, 1991, but asked their guest to fill in for him.

“His wife was going to have a baby, so Harry went,” Driedger said.

Glicken and about 40 other people died when the volcano erupted.

Driedger attended a conference in Japan in 2007, which included a trip to the volcano.

“I left some St. Helens rocks” at Mount Unzen, she said. “That brought some closure for me.”

That sense of personal loss is one of things that keeps Driedger on the job.

Catastrophic kinship

“The ones who experience a loss have to take action,” she said. “That’s what drives me.”

Driedger said that she discovered a feeling of kinship with people who survived an even more catastrophic disaster. A volcano in Colombia erupted on Nov. 13, 1985, and killed about 25,000 people

“It was a small eruption, but it bulked up along the way and picked up speed,” as melting glaciers created mudflows known as lahars, she said. “It it hit the city of Armero, and fire-hosed away parts of the city.”

When she visited the region in 2013, Driedger heard a first-hand account of the disaster from a man who lived through it. He was a boy, watching TV that night, when he heard a weird sound outside.

“He opened the door. The lahar rushed into their living room. His brother was carried away. The family clawed its way to high ground, which was a cemetery, ironically,” she said.

That man became the city’s mayor. Driedger said that when they met, “He said, ‘Please, Carolyn: We need information. We can’t let this happen again.'”

And that represents a legacy of David Johnston, she said.

“David inspired us in many ways. He was meticulous in his work, and insightful with his observations,” Driedger said.

Despite his shyness — Johnston once fainted while preparing to speak at a science workshop — “David spoke to the news media in a forthright way about hazards. He encouraged officials to keep the public out of the risky area,” Driedger said.

“David advocated for the use of volcanic gases as precursors of eruptions. By doing all these things, David saved lives at Mount St. Helens, and in decades to come, at volcanoes around the world.”

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Columbian Science, Military & History Reporter