PORTLAND, Ore. - For several years I've had my eye on climbing Mount St. Helens. I gaze at it on clear days on my drive to work. I check out the latest conditions on the "VolcanoCam." I've marveled at it from the windows of passenger jets and from various vantage points on high-elevation hikes in the Cascades.

I didn't realize that part of the struggle of getting to the volcano's rim was maneuvering through the many rules and requirements imposed by the Forest Service.

Turns out, the government limits (and for good reason) the number of people scrambling above treeline on the world-famous volcano to 100 per day between April and October. And those lucky few have to buy a pass online.

The passes go on sale Feb. 1, and I secured mine that very day. The later you wait, the more likely the day you want to climb will be sold out. I picked Aug. 15 since that seemed a good bet for a clear, sunny day.

As the date neared this summer, I checked the fine print closer. The rules said you had to take the voucher you printed out when you bought your pass and exchange it at the Lone Fir Resort in Cougar, Wash., for the actual climbing permit. And you also had to sign in on a climbing register at the same location.

The downside to this is you have to tailor your climbing plans to the store's hours. But it's not so bad – they are typically open from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m.

As it turned out, our climbing date just happened to be in the middle of the big heat wave impacting the Northwest, and temperatures were expected to hit triple digits. Ideally, my girlfriend and I would have camped at Climber's Bivouac – the start of the main summer climbing route at 3,700 feet – and started the hike in the early morning darkness in order to reach the rim and get back down before things got scorching. (As you may have noticed, there's not a lot of shade up there.)

Alas, we stayed in the comfort of our beds, got up early, and didn't hit the trail until after 8 a.m. – which was pretty late.

The first two miles up the Ptarmigan Trail take you through shaded forest before you reach treeline at 4,800 feet. From there, you scramble up Monitor Ridge on a combination of scree and boulders for several thousand feet, making your way by following a collection of large wooden posts acting as trail markers. There were plenty of people ahead of us so finding our way was not an issue.

It was during this section that we ran into the first climbers coming down off the mountain. They said they had counted everyone they had passed while descending, and we were the 50th and 51st on the mountain at that time. There certainly were not 50 people behind us so I doubt everyone who bought a pass for that day actually climbed.

Though the climbing was a workout, the worst part was the ash and dust flying around. Both of us wear hard contacts, and it never fails that something gets stuck in our eyes, bringing us to our knees as we struggle to blink it out. As an experiment, I brought swimming goggles to wear over our eyes – but those just kept steaming up. So we finally ended the suffering by exchanging our contacts for glasses. At least we had planned for that contingency.  

The final 1,300 feet or so is just a simple slog up loose rock, pumice and ash. It's steep, and it seems you are sliding back a bit with every step you take, but eventually you make it to the rim.

Once we had reached our goal, my expectations were shattered. For some reason, I thought the crater might be the size of Crater Lake, which is six miles at its widest. But it was much smaller – closer to two miles across. You can see the western part of the rim below:

 
We saw no steam in the crater below. About the only movement was the periodic, natural falling of rocks around the crater. If you fell in there, as one man did earlier this year after a snow overhang he was on collapsed, it would be difficult to climb out the way you came. It is extremely vertical. At this time of year, the snow was long gone, however. You can see the lava dome below:

As for the view, we had unfortunately picked a hot, hazy day to climb. Though there were no clouds obstructing the view, you could not see far to the south; Portland was invisible and Mount Hood was barely there. It was still awe-inspiring – especially as your eye followed Spirit Lake to the northeast, leading you to Mount Rainier. (Pictured below)

After a half hour at the top, we noticed that the wind had died down, and we were going to get baked by sun. It was time to descend. Because there was so much scree, it was easy to ski down quickly. I only wished there was more snow so we could try our hand at glissading down.

While it took us about four hours to hit the rim, we were back to our car in three. It was a quick trip that left us tired but not exhausted. And we could finally say we'd made it to the top.

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW TO CLIMB