I still remember that day vividly. I was here on the southern tip of Vancouver Island. We spent the day at a friend's BBQ down the road where we roasted marshmallows and had slow cooked salmon and venison tenderloin wrapped in bacon done on poles propped over an open fire. When we returned to the cars up on the road at the end of the day, they were covered with a dusting of fine ash from the eruption. We were amazed that the ash had made it this far west.

A few days before the mountain blew, I had a very vivid dream in which I was home alone with my kids here on our forested hill. Suddenly there was a huge roar of wind and when I looked out the window, not one tree was standing for miles.

When I realized that the driveway and every road was blocked by fallen trees and my children and I were stranded, I awoke in a panic. After the eruption, one of the first photos I saw of the devastation was a picture of the flattened forest, identical to what I had seen in my dream. It creeped me out for years.