Legends & Tales Of Mount St. Helens

The Incident At Ape Canyon

--Alan Guggenheim

A boy of 10 or so dipped his bucket into Smith Creek and headed back into Thousand Foot Canyon towards a splintery old miner's cabin. The coffee would taste good with dinner this cool evening after such a long, warm day hauling rocks. That was his job, hauling rocks and debris chipped out of the mine being dug by his uncle and another man. The three were holding up that summer of 1924 in a sparse cabin at the foot of the great crevasse of the Thousand Foot Canyon for one reason: Gold.

They had panned Smith Creek, chipped away at a hundred dead-end veins and were a bit down on their luck. Not even a sign of copper, much less some rarer metal.

The boy trudged back through the fine rock and ash that blew off the mountain. His uncle would probably be nipping at the bottle by now. So would his partner. Suddenly, there was a piercing city followed by a resounding thud.

"Aaaaah-aaaaah-aaaaah! Thum-bum-bouum!"

Then another cry.

"Kaaah-wum-bum-buuum!"

The boy hurried through the prickly current patch out of the sunshine and into a tangle of sword ferns. A furry pocket gopher dove for cover as the boy tripped over a chuck of granite. His pale of water splashed across the path.

"Aaaaah-ooooh-aaaaah!" Came an echo down the canyon.

The boy looked up the path directly into the U-section of Thousand Foot Canyon at the bottom of which stood the rickety old cabin with a tin root. He caught sight of a gigantic boulder flying through the air. It floated a moment then struck the side of the cliff before crashing into the rubble at the base about fifty yards from the cabin.

"Kaaah-buuum!"

Glancing upward, the boy glimpsed a hunched-over, two-legged creature dragging yet another boulder the size of a dog house. The broad-should creature carefully toed the precipice. Then he stood upright like a big hairy gorilla with the boulder suspended high above his shaggy head. The beast act out an angry growl followed by a ghoulish yell, then tossed the stone effortlessly into the canyon, narrowly missing the stovepipe chimney on the rear of the cabin.

The boy sprang to his feet and dashed the 50 yards or so to the cabin door. The latch was up, the door slightly ajar.

"Haw-wham!" the door flew back on its hinges as the boy burst through the opening. His uncle was napping on the bunk in the corner. His partner was nodding over a yellowing copy of the Oregonian. Both men snapped open their eyes as if to suggest that there had better be a good explanation for the ruckus.

"Monsters, monsters!" the boy yelled hysterically. He pointed outside towards the canyon walls. "Some monsters are going to get us!' Quick, come see," the boy shouted.

His uncle cocked his elbow on the mattress and stroked his chin. He had heard some commotion outside but had given it no mind. His thoughts were on the traces of ore found earlier that morning. He was celebrating with his partner, pondering whether to continue prospecting through the summer. Now this...monster!

The partner looked at the boy, skeptical of what he was hearing but also somewhat amused. The boy was sure excitable.

"You don't say?" the partner egged on the boy.

"Yeah, yeah, ya' hear? They're coming to get us right now," that boy sputtered. His eyes bulged out of their sockets.

His uncle sat up on the bunk. "Now suppose you just describe these big beast to your old uncle." He said with a wink towards his half-tight partner.

"They was big, hairy, like gorillas," the boy shot back.

"Did they walk on all fours and chase sticks like Laddie here?" the partner asked as he reached down and petted an ancient red-haired collie with a trace of Irish setter.