If you close your eyes and think of Mount St. Helens, you probably see a grainy 1980s newsreel of a mountain exploding. Or maybe you picture a gray, moon-like wasteland where nothing grows. Honestly? That vision is about 40 years out of date.
Today, in early 2026, Mount St. Helens is a bizarre, beautiful, and slightly chaotic contradiction. It’s one of the few places on Earth where you can watch a landscape literally reinvent itself in real-time. But if you’re planning a trip this year, there’s a big "but" you need to know about before you pack the car.
The Current View: A Crater That Isn't Empty
One of the biggest misconceptions is that the volcano is just a hollowed-out shell. It’s not. When you look into that massive, mile-wide horseshoe crater today, you aren't looking at a dead hole. You’re looking at a construction site.
Inside the crater, two massive lava domes—basically giant piles of volcanic rock—have been stacking up since the mid-2000s. They look like lumpy, steaming hearts sitting in the center of the mountain. And wrapping around those domes is the Crater Glacier.
This is arguably the weirdest glacier on the planet. While most glaciers across the globe are shrinking, this one is actually growing. Because the crater walls provide so much shade and the volcanic rock acts like an insulator, the ice is getting thicker. It’s a horseshoe-shaped mass of cracked, blue-tinted ice that’s slowly crawling around the lava domes. It’s the only glacier in the lower 48 that's actively expanding. Nature is weird like that.
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What You’ll Actually See on the Ground
Basically, the "Blast Zone" isn't a desert anymore. It’s a messy, vibrant explosion of green.
If you visit in the summer of 2026, you’ll see fields of purple lupine and bright red fireweed that have completely carpeted the once-gray ash. These plants are the "pioneers." They’re the reason life came back so fast. The lupine, in particular, has a cool superpower: it can grab nitrogen straight out of the air, which let it thrive in soil that was essentially sterile glass and dust.
The trees are back, too, though they look a bit different depending on where you stand:
- The Replanted Forests: On the outskirts, where timber companies and the Forest Service got to work, you’ll see thick, uniform rows of Douglas firs that are now 40 to 60 feet tall.
- The Natural Succession: Inside the National Volcanic Monument, things are more wild. Willow and alder trees are choking the creek beds. They look a bit "scrubby" compared to the old-growth forests that were there before, but they’ve brought back the elk, the birds, and even the mountain goats.
The 2026 Logistics Headache (Read This Before Going)
You’ve gotta be careful with your GPS this year. In May 2023, a massive debris flow (basically a giant slushy of rock and mud) took out the Spirit Lake Memorial Highway (SR 504) near the 43-mile marker. It snapped the bridge leading to the famous Johnston Ridge Observatory.
Here’s the deal for 2026: Johnston Ridge is still closed. The Washington Department of Transportation is working on it, but the observatory—the spot with that iconic "straight-down-the-throat" view of the crater—isn't expected to be fully accessible by car until late 2026.
Does that mean you shouldn't go? No way. It just means you have to change your strategy.
The Best 2026 Alternatives:
- Coldwater Lake: This is the current "end of the road" for the west side. It’s a lake that didn't even exist before 1980; it was formed when the landslide blocked a creek. You can hike the Hummocks Trail here, which winds through giant piles of the mountain that literally fell out of the sky.
- The South Side (Ape Cave): If you want to see the "old" mountain, head to the south side near Cougar, WA. The 1980 blast went North, so the south side still has lush, ancient forests. Ape Cave, a massive lava tube from an eruption 2,000 years ago, is still a fan favorite, though you need a reservation now.
- Windy Ridge (The East Side): This is for the adventurous. The road is long, winding, and a bit rough, but it takes you to the edge of Spirit Lake. You’ll see thousands of "log mats"—bleached trees that have been floating on the water since 1980. It looks like a giant game of pick-up sticks from space.
Is It Still Dangerous?
Kinda. But not in the "it’s going to blow tomorrow" kind of way.
The USGS (United States Geological Survey) keeps this place wired like a patient in an ICU. There are seismometers everywhere. Right now, the volcano is at Normal status. You might hear about small "earthquake swarms," but those are usually just the mountain settling or magma moving deep, deep underground. It’s a living mountain; it breathes.
The real danger in 2026 is actually the terrain. The "cornice" (snow overhang) on the rim is incredibly unstable. Every year, people get too close to the edge for a selfie and the snow gives way. Don't be that person. Stay back from the rim.
Why It Matters Now
We’re approaching the 46th anniversary of the eruption. For a long time, the story of Mount St. Helens was a story of death. 57 people lost. Millions of trees gone.
But today, the story has shifted. It’s become the world’s greatest laboratory for ecological resilience. We’ve learned that life doesn't just "return"—it fights its way back. We’ve seen gophers survival underground actually help mix the soil so seeds could grow. We’ve seen how one single lupine plant can change the chemistry of an entire hillside.
Your 2026 Action Plan
If you’re heading out there, do these three things to get the most out of it:
- Check the WSDOT website first. Seriously. Road closures on SR 504 are dynamic. Don't trust a map printed in 2022.
- Visit the Science and Learning Center at Coldwater. Since Johnston Ridge is closed, this is the main hub for info and views. The rangers there are brilliant and can tell you exactly which trails are clear of snow.
- Look for the "Ghost Forest." On the way up, look for the standing dead trees on the ridges. They’re silver now, stripped of bark by the heat 46 years ago. They stand like sentinels over the new green forest growing at their feet. It’s the best visual representation of the mountain's past and future.
Mount St. Helens isn't a "one and done" destination. It changes every single season. Whether you’re seeing the growing glacier or the wandering elk herds, you’re witnessing a planet being reborn. Just make sure you bring a jacket—even in July, the wind off that crater has a bite to it.