The Elysian Fields

By Michael Lipsky

For many years I had wanted to return to the Elysian Fields, an off-trail backcountry area of trackless meadows in the Mount Rainier Wilderness within Mount Rainier National Park. The opportunity arose when I joined my son, Josh, and three of his friends on a backpacking trip a few years after they graduated from college. 

The plan was to hike several miles up the trail to gain elevation, then go cross-country until we reached the base of one of the ridges beyond which the Elysian Fields unfolded. We would then climb up and over the ridge, and descend to our destination.  

We set out early one morning in August. The day was cloudy, neither cold nor warm. We hiked along the river for about two miles, then followed the trail as it ascended along Moraine Creek on the east side of the Carbon Glacier. We ignored a fine mist as we gained elevation. 

Soon it was raining. With the exertion we were warm enough. But we had failed to put on our raingear. On breaks we were getting cold. One of us was shivering and began to throw up. Maybe he was getting sick. Maybe he was getting scared; this was his first time in the mountains. Although there were still hours before dark, it was time to make camp. 

Park regulations require campsites to be beyond sight and sound of all trails. Nonetheless, we decided we would make camp at the first plausible spot. One of us was ill; getting him into a tent and warm and dry was our priority. 

We awoke to a breezy morning with a mixed cloud cover that zipped across the sky. Our ailing camper was feeling fine. We continued along the trail, gaining elevation, looking to our left and more or less eastward for a good place to leave the trail. 

At some point we cut across country. The steep slope we set out to cross was mostly scree—jumbled rock that had fallen in slides from higher points.  It was slow going. 

I was keeping my eye on the weather. One moment it was sunny, the next moment clouds obscured the sun.  

Soon we settled on an intermediate destination—a forested shelf athwart the slope. It seemed like a good place to stop, eat lunch, and from there, hump it up and over the ridge. 

The day was still dry, but clouds were beginning to dominate. 

After a quick lunch, we prepared to scramble up the slope. The guys took off, bounding up the rocks. Josh hung back. Maybe he felt responsible for not letting me fall behind. 

It began to rain. I felt a pressure in my abdomen. Moments later I said to myself, “the feeling I am having is fear.” 

Having named it, I knew it was true. I saw instantly that we should not proceed. We couldn’t see the top of the ridge. We didn’t know what we would find at the top. We didn’t know if we could find a place to camp, or even take shelter. The rain might stop, but it also might continue and get heavier while we were still exposed. In any event, going on was treacherous. With the rain we would be hurrying to make camp, but climbing over scree with full packs should be done with care. 

I told Josh he needed to call the guys back. “This is the way people die in the mountains,” I said. As I spoke the words, I deeply knew it was true.

He did call the guys back. It was difficult for them to give up all that ground—in the mountains one never wants to lose elevation. They came back, and I explained my thinking. They argued, but I wasn’t open to a discussion. 

It took a bit of time for them to digest the change in plans, but we turned around and made camp, now in the rain, on the shelf of ground behind us. 

The weather the next day was still problematic. We decided to descend to meadows we could see below us. It would be more sheltered if the weather continued to be nasty. If the weather cleared, we could return and climb the ridge we had abandoned two days earlier.  

And so we did climb that ridge. The next day, around noon, we were able to look down into the Elysian Fields. A herd of elk grazed in the meadows, undisturbed by the five observers watching them from hundreds of feet above. 

We returned to camp, and the next day bushwacked out, descending through forest in ragged order, confident that if we just kept going down we would hit the trail we had come up five days before.

Editor's notes:

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