Picnic: Defining Success on My First Attempt of the Niche Teton Triathlon

Does it still count if I don’t reach the summit?

All photos from the author’s portfolio

Strava links for Bike #1, Swim #1, Run/Climb, Swim #2, and Bike #2

As a former competitive triathlete who has found new life traveling in the mountains, the multi-sport challenge in the Tetons colloquially known by locals as The Picnic fell right into my bucket of obsessions the moment I heard about it.

Few people know about the Picnic. Fewer have completed it. The mad concoction was conceived in 2012 by some crazy Jackson local named Dave Gonzalez and has since been an aspiration for those who feel like completing an Ironman is too easy of a goal.

The challenge is as follows: starting at the elk antlers in Jackson Hole town square, you bike 22 miles to the Jenny Lake overlook in Grand Teton National Park, swim across Jenny Lake, climb a mountain (normally the Grand Teton), swim back across Jenny Lake, and then bike back to Jackson Hole town square.

Since learning that such a challenge exists, it has enthralled my mind, an obsession with when the calendar turned to a new year, I always asked myself if this was going to be the year that on a weekend in August, the stars would align for it to happen.

The last few years I found myself skunked for a variety of reasons: not in shape, lack of support, weather, general intimidation of the task at hand.

2024 would be the year. I was in shape. I was swimming. I found multiple people willing to support me in the lake swim. There were two athletic goals I wanted to accomplish this year, and this was one of them (completion of the Idaho Trail Ultra Series being the other).

But the intimidation was still there. I had only climbed the Owen-Spaulding route on the Grand Teton once, six years ago on the same trip where my obsession with the Picnic began. I was having nightmares about the Belly Roll. Was I going to pussy out yet again?

But wait! This is really what you make it. There is nothing that says that I have to do the Grand. It wouldn’t be the Grand Picnic, but I could just choose a different mountain to climb.

I decided to replace it with Teewinot. The sixth highest in the Tetons, I climbed it back in 2019 and don’t remember having many issues with it. I quite enjoyed it! My buddy and I, we think, finished in about 5 hours, but there was a lot of route finding that we were doing, so doing it in 4 may not be out of the question. Also, the route was shorter than anything else in the Cathedral, so it would make for a little more of a chewable jaunt. A 12-hour fun day versus an 18-hour sufferfest. It’s Picnic Lite, but it’ll give me some good data points, especially with the swim and bike, for future attempts at the more popular route.

Now, the weather. Due to schedules and my body’s capability to work around my races, Labor Day weekend was tabbed as the window where I would attempt this. What originally called for slight chances of evening storms ended up transitioning into an incredibly splitter day with no clouds or wind to speak of. The only issue was that the overnight lows were dipping into the upper 20s and low 30s, aka not ideal for swimming in an alpine lake.

But wait. Why do I need to start at 4 am? If this was only going to take 12 hours, it was going to be light until 9, and if shit did hit the fan maybe I’ll need to bike back in the dark. Looking at the temps, it looked to warm up to reasonable (mid-50s/low-60s) around 10 am. Who says I couldn’t start at 8?

So that’s what I did. My friend Tyler would be on water support making sure I didn’t happen to die in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. All systems go, six years later.

Time to get this monkey off my back.

Tyler and I left Idaho Falls around 5:30 and rolled into Jackson a couple of hours later. It was definitely chilly. I’m glad I brought a jacket and gloves and delayed the swim until the sun was higher in the sky. Additionally, I had the rest of my equipment stowed away in a drybag that had built-in backpack straps, perfect for something like this. Included in it was my swim stuff and run stuff, stuffed to the brim. I would be unsure how to fit anything else in it if I were to do a longer day, like the Grand.

I had this weird thing about starting at exactly 8, and when the clock struck, I was on my way to Jenny Lake.

I told Tyler to be ready around 9:20 at the Jenny Lake overlook. I wanted to keep my heart rate around 140–150 during this, as it was going to be a long day, but my heart rate monitor on my watch was reading closer to 160. I lowered my gear and therefore my pace. It may take a little longer to get to the lake than I had originally thought. There were also a couple of “significant” inclines to contend with.

The first climb brought me from the valley floor up into the park, where I got my first views of the Tetons on this expedition, always beautiful. The path flattened out as I passed the turnoff to Gros Ventre and the airport. My heart rate was still a little higher, mid-150s. Actually, due to the cold, it was fluctuating between 80–90 and the actual heart rate, because wrist-based heart rate monitors get all screwy when circulation in the wrist isn’t optimal, like in cold weather. No biggie, it would just screw up my stats a little bit.

The path turned left as I entered Moose. At this point the Teets were right in front of me, basking in the glow of the morning sun. It’s a magnificent sight. I biked past the toll booth, which had a massive line of cars awaiting their turn to crowd the trailheads on the magnificent Labor Day weekend Saturday. I couldn’t find Tyler on that line. Maybe he had already passed. Maybe I would be at him. Maybe it was Maybelline.

The second “significant” climb was up ahead and I eased my way up it. The trail mellowed out up top and would stay relatively flat. I entered the Jenny Lake visitor center to find my first real battle with cars and crowds. The path didn’t make it all the way to the lookout and so I needed to improvise getting there.

That would force me back on the main road for a little bit until I could turn off on Jenny Lake Road. There was a bit of traffic but I felt safe enough that it would be okay. I had a massive obnoxiously orange backpack on. If a driver didn’t see me then my death was meant to be.

I turned onto Jenny Lake Road and a few minutes later found myself at the overlook. It took about 1:30 to get there, a little longer than I had originally anticipated, but I also tend to overestimate my own ability. Tyler had been there for about 20 minutes and was not worried about me not getting in on time. I dismounted, keeping my bike shoes on my pedals because I had no space in the drybag.

I opened the drybag and removed my wetsuit, goggles, and shoes. Tyler and I walked down the trail to the lakeshore where he had pumped up his paddleboard. As I was putting on my wetsuit, I could hear a slight hissing coming from something. It turned out a seam in the paddleboard had a small failure. This could get interesting real quick! Tyler checked the pressure with his pump and found that no pressure was lost due to the leak. He brought the pump with him just in case.

I packed up my shoes, the rest of my clothes, and my backpack straps. I was quickly realizing that packing order matters if I wanted to be efficient. Now the moment of truth: how cold was this water?

I stepped in.

It was the perfect temperature! I was really excited now! The lower air temperature combined with the consistent water temp made the water feel a little warmer than it actually was. Time to go across the lake.

Here is where I want to provide a disclaimer: I am incredibly comfortable in the open water. I always have been. As a triathlete, I have found myself constantly competing in lakes and at one point the ocean. When I started competing in triathlons, my only swimming option was a lake. So in these sections, it will seem like I am 100% downplaying the athletic and mentally challenging feat of swimming 1.3 miles across Jenny Lake. This is the portion most people are intimidated by when they talk about the Picnic and that trepidation is warranted. Being comfortable in the open water is a big hurdle for doing something like this. Similar to Alex Honnold downplaying a massive solo climb effort, I will continue to discuss my swim across Jenny Lake.

I immediately dropped into a comfortable pace (really I have one swim pace that I can hold forever, about 1:40–1:50 per 100yd). Everything felt good, strong. There were a couple of moments where I would snap back into reality from my flow state to think, “the bottom is a couple hundred feet down, oh no!” and then I would immediately dissociate back into the flow state to not hyperventilate.

The shore seemed much closer than it actually was. I was sighting off of the boat docks opposite of the overlook. My watch was saying that I had gone 600 yards, then 700 yards, but I felt like I was already past the halfway mark. However the distance was an optical illusion, and in reality the beach where we landed took about 2300 yards of swimming to get to. Tyler stayed with me the whole way and his paddleboard stayed afloat too!

The swim took 44 minutes. At the beach, I took off my wetsuit and redonned my shirt from earlier. I took out my running vest, which was stuffed with a picnic’s worth of food and water at the bottom of my bag, requiring me to take out everything in the process. Packing order matters. With my running stuff on, it was time to venture up Teewinot! While I didn’t expect it to take that long, I also mentally set a turn-around time of 2:00, that way I didn’t risk swimming or biking back in the dark. I have a bad habit of underestimating time, so this felt necessary.

I meandered through some shrubbery before finding a game trail that led me to the main Jenny Lake Loop trail. I would follow this trail for three miles before turning off onto the trail at the Lupine Meadows parking lot that takes me up Teewinot.

I felt very good in this instance. Everything felt super bouncy and fresh. It was going to be a good day! This is a very popular trail, and so I found myself slowing down for crowds and stepping around people. All they saw was some dude trail running. They had no idea what I was trying to complete.

As I veered off the main trail and reached the road to Lupine Meadows, my stomach was starting to act up a little bit, a little indigestion, likely from the combination of Kind bars, Honey Stinger gels, Honey Stinger chews, and Honey Stinger waffles. So that slowed me up a little bit. Also slowing me up was a little bit of trail-finding that I had to do, as I’ve only done this trail once and I kinda forgot where it started. Cycling through my trail apps, I found that CalTopo had the exact trail that I was looking for. Good stuff.

I started off on a run down the trail. I passed a group of folks just starting their climb up. Figured I’d see them coming back down. As the trail began to go up, my run turned into a power hike. The trail itself was pretty switchbacky and its surface cycled between good footing and multiple tripping hazards.

I was really feeling my stomach at this point. I was unsure if anything felt super appetizing. I continued sipping water to alleviate the tummy ache. The climb was getting difficult too. I was really beginning to fight in my upper heart rate zones. It was also very hot. There was a stream off-trail that I dipped my hat and buff in, in hopes it could reduce my core temperature. That helped somewhat but it didn’t fight the fatigue very well. Eventually I dug into my bag of tricks and found my almonds and munched on some of those. That actually was able to give me a semblance of new life. I was back on.

However, I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere as I was lead onto a game trail cut into the hillside. It was very steep and leaning too much to the right would be bad news. I didn’t even remember this on my past trek up the mountain. I looked at the Caltopo. I was off by quite a bit. I was supposed to be up at the top of the ridge that I was currently on the side of. I bushwhacked up the steep terrain to get back on the trail. That took a lot out of me.

Eventually I made it to the features on the mountain known as the Idol and the Worshipper. It marked the point where things began to get really scrambly. It was also my first opportunity to bask in some shade.

I popped down and ate my sandwich. It was time to assess. I was burning myself. I was 1:50 into this climb and risen 3700 feet. I had about 1500 feet left to go, most of it scrambling. I was nearly empty of water. While the Caltopo trail said it was three miles, it said I was around 2.5 at this point with still a lot left to go. I thought I could do it in four hours. Now I had my doubts that I could do it in five, if at all. Do I turn back and ruin my first opportunity at this Picnic?

After about fifteen minutes of rest I continued on. I found to the side of the trail that there was some glacial runoff. There I was able to replenish my bladder and drink some myself. The chilly water was very refreshing. I felt much better at this point.

However, getting back on trail was difficult. I was starting to get heady. It was hard keeping balance. I really needed to focus.

I got to 11,000 feet. My legs kept moving forward, but any big scramble move was excruciating. I was beginning to feel nauseous. As I continued I thought about some previous climbs I’ve done with people who experienced issues with altitude. There was always this wooziness feeling, a sense of imbalance, not feeling all the way there. I had experienced altitude sickness before, but it felt like food poisoning at 18,000 feet.

How slow was I moving? Dangerously, to be honest. That group that I mentioned earlier that seemed like an extraneous detail? They have since caught up to me. We exchanged pleasantries, I told them I was going for a Picnic, they were super impressed. I was also discussing the idea of turning around. “But you’ve made it this far!”

It was true. During one of my rests, I looked out into the valley. I could see for a long ways. I saw the Jackson airport way down the valley. I had biked past that this morning and it seemed so far away. I saw Jenny Lake. It looked big. I swam across that bitch. I had already covered so much ground today. When would I have this opportunity again?

Unfortunately I found myself falling in the mental trap of this “summit fever” that can get a lot of people in trouble in the alpine.

But was it altitude sickness? Or was I tired? Was I just going to pussy out of this?

I knew the right choice was to turn around. But I kept going.

I made a couple moves. I get dizzy and had to sit down. After a little rest I walked six more steps, made another move, nearly passed out, and sat down. My dad died this way. This was getting dangerous.

I needed to turn around.

But I also needed confirmation. A second opinion. To just make this call myself was difficult because my ego and emotional side still had a summit fever of 103 and that if I just channeled my inner Goggins I could fight through it and will my way up a thousand more feet and have a badass story. But no, that was not the answer. My logical side knew I was struggling with the altitude. I was also dangerously close to my turn-around time of 2:00.

I called my girlfriend. No answer. I called Tyler. No answer. After hanging up on Tyler I saw that Kiley had called me twice. I called back. “Tell me to turn around.”

“Yes! Turn around! Seriously, don’t put yourself in danger!”

It was settled. It was the right choice given the circumstances. A thousand feet below the summit of Teewinot, I headed back down.

I was pretty bummed despite knowing that it was the right decision. Where did things go wrong? Do I have the capability to complete the Picnic in the future?

Contemplating my disappointment

Also I needed to figure out how I was going to retrieve my stuff. My swim stuff was at one end of Jenny Lake, and my bike was at the other. I could potentially have Tyler, who needed to paddle back to the overlook, to take my stuff there, run to the overlook, pack my bike up, and drown out my sorrows with some beers at Snake River Brewing a few hours before I had originally planned to celebrate victory there.

The initial trek down felt defeating. All these years building this adventure up, and it wasn’t even the full one. I couldn’t even get through Picnic Lite.

It didn’t seem like the time to try and put everything in perspective. I was frustrated with the situation and I wanted to get that feeling out of the way instead of pushing it down and letting it seethe for an extended period of time.

I thought I was in better shape. The weather was absolutely perfect for the attempt. The cards aligned. And here I was coming off of the mountain without the Teewinot peak bagged.

As I descended under 10,000 feet though, my body began to regain a step. Things were starting to clear up. My head wasn’t foggy anymore. Whether it was an increase of oxygen density or just a break from maxing out my cardio system with all the uphill, I was feeling pretty good. The thought crossed my mind that maybe I could still complete the swim and bike back to town as a consolation prize. At the very least, I could see how that second swim would feel after being in the mountains. I’ve always considered that section the crux of the adventure.

But would that be too much? I did turn back, after all. Was I getting ahead of myself to say, okay I feel good now, or should I just get back to civilization and call it off? I felt like trying to continue would be a little too overzealous, but maybe I could do it? The dilemma ate at me as I continued to run down the switchbacks.

As I got to the stream, I soaked my hat and buff again but opted not to refill my water. I texted both Kiley and Tyler that I was beginning to feel better and that what I was experiencing up top was likely altitude sickness. Again, Kiley helped me confirm my decision, asking “So are you gonna swim and bike still? Would be good practice for your next attempt if you’re feeling up for it.”

It would be good practice. May as well. I didn’t want to think myself as being crazy in a vacuum.

When I hit the Lupine Meadows parking lot, I let Tyler know I’d be at the beach in a half hour. He confirmed his readiness for my arrival. This was when I also ran out of water. I had a bottle of pickle juice left that I wanted to save for right before the swim, but I ended up cracking it open and tried to quench my thirst with the very concentrated brine. It did not quench my thirst. But I really wanted to get to the beach and not go out of my way for water. I had a full Nalgene at the beach that I used as motivation to get me there.

The trek there was a bit of a run-walk, mostly due to the dehydration as well as navigating around hoards of tourists. There were a bunch congregated around the boat dock, waiting their turn to hitch a ferry ride back to the Jenny Lake Ranger Station. Honestly, in some instances it may have been faster for them to swim over to the other boat dock.

I reached the game trail that took me to the beach and popped out to find Tyler awaiting my return. He spent the day paddleboarding, reading, and trying to find a cool rock to jump off of into the lake. He appreciated his “beach day”. Meanwhile I was frustrated at myself and the situation. At this point I felt really good! The altitude had definitely taken a toll up top. I never thought it would affect me that low. I generally never really feel it until reaching 13 or 14k, depending on my fitness level.

Oh well, what I was doing now was essentially practice for the next Picnic attempt and for the most part exploratory in nature. How far would I make it across the water? How fast? How would the bike ride feel or would I just tap out the moment I got to the other side?

At the time there was no “Picnic” to complete, I thought. I was free to figure out how this section, after the arduous mountain running portion, would feel. So much for the Picnic, now it was time to finish my long day in the Tetons.

My swim started as it did the last one, a quick beginning before settling into a pace between 1:40–1:50 per 100 yards. My triceps were very tight and sore, but otherwise the body felt good. I was worried about my legs cramping up and while there were a few niggles here and there, my legs held up. The water temperature wasn’t uniform and there were instances where I swam through much colder water. After a long hot day on the trails, that burst of cold felt so refreshing on my body! Hitting those sections were probably the best part of my day.

I hit the other end of Jenny Lake in just about the same time as I swam earlier that morning. I was incredibly impressed and thrilled with the consistency of my swims! I have one swim speed but it seems like it can go on for a long time.

What it could have been

I changed my clothes and packed up the rest of my dry bag. As before, everything barely fit and I was only able to turn the top once before closing the bag. I ate one last waffle, figuring that it would sustain me on the 1.5 hour ride back to Jackson while also making me hungry enough to stuff my face with whatever we could get in Jackson Hole on a holiday weekend Saturday night.

The first stop on the bike was to the Jenny Lake Visitor Center, as I was out of water. After a quick refill, I was back on my way.

As I was biking I realized why I thought my heart rate was a little higher this morning: the path was slightly uphill the entire way into the park. I figured this out by realizing that the path in front of me was slightly downhill. It felt pretty nice to let gravity take the reigns. This would also likely result in me finishing this bike faster than when I was fresh this morning. Even still, it would still take a good chunk of time.

It was the point of the day where the sun was beginning to set behind the Teton Range. The shadows were pretty chilly but manageable without a jacket. I didn’t feel like stopping anyway; I was ready to be done. Just gotta keep moving forward.

I finally bonked around the Gros Venture roundabout, with about 10 miles to go. Thankfully the path was still a slight downhill and there was a significant downhill awaiting me that would lead right into town.

Of course, when I got into town, I had to deal with the traffic. Between the slow vehicles and the pedestrians crossing the street willy-nilly, it was a bit of an arduous path to get to the town square. I was finally able to frogger my way over to the elk antler arches where I started earlier this morning.

I was finished! In total it took me 11 hours and 38 minutes. I was happy to have finished in under twelve hours. To turn this into an epic where I would finish at dark would not have been ideal, and we were probably a half hour away from that.

Yay I'm done!

Candid response

Despite all that, there was still a pit of dissatisfaction of the Picnic attempt. Probably because it ended up being an attempt, and I didn’t quite meet the credentials of the crazy objective that I set out to do. In my mind, there wasn’t that sense of accomplishment. It was a long day of being active in the mountains, but I was unsure how to consider it.

It wasn’t until a couple weeks later when I was able to fully understand the scope of my success. I was talking with my friend David, himself a very experienced mountaineer, about how hard it is to bail with grace in the mountains. Physical toll aside, combating the summit fever with making good decisions in the process, even if that means turning around, especially when so much time and effort has been given for the opportunity to be in the arena in the first place.

It leads to a longer discussion of where the accomplishment lays within the adventure. Did I complete The Picnic? Well, no, because the big one is the one where you summit the Grand Teton. Did I complete the Teewinot Picnic? I wouldn’t say so, in the same vein of saying that completing a mountain climb includes getting to the tippy-top of the peak. So with that in mind, what was accomplished?

Bailing is hard. What was harder was bailing after creating circumstances for higher success (Teewinot vs The Grand). Having been around others having dizzying altitude sickness and knowing the consequences of a misstep or losing consciousness while scrambling, I am fortunate that I was able to recognize that I wasn’t just tired, but that pushing through it was incredibly dangerous.

It was a good decision to turn around, even if it was difficult at the time. That should be celebrated. It is hard to bail, especially on a project that had so much anticipation. Bailing with grace is an art form and should be encouraged more as part of being responsible in the mountains. During other mountain objectives, returning to the car safely is the #1 goal. Why should that change here?

Additionally, the decision to continue with the swim and the bike were a big lesson in resiliency and what I consider the next biggest accomplishment of the day. It would have been real easy to bail the whole project for the day after not making it to the top. Making the decision to swim back across Jenny Lake, the true crux of the challenge, should have been a harder decision than bailing on Teewinot. However, the pressure was off at that point. I hadn’t made it to the top; so what if I didn’t quite finish the second swim and bike legs? The second half was exploratory to see how that would feel for future Picnic attempts, and that was achieved flawlessly. And I felt very good during it all! While there were many positives to take away from the day, my resiliency on the back half was a big one.

Finally, simply leaving Jackson Hole town square on my bike that morning was an accomplishment. I had been daydreaming about this for so many years, and whether it be not being in shape, weather not cooperating, or not having the support, each summer ended with me another year older with no Picnic attempt. This year the stars aligned with my fitness, the weather, and a willing friend, which allowed me to make an attempt at this in the first place.

Which brings me back to the original question: does it still count if I don’t summit anything?

Maybe I didn’t quite fully complete what I set out to do, but quite frankly the summit was the original turn-around point that I needed to adjust due to circumstance. It sucked in that instance, but considering this was a personal challenge inspired by many others, quite frankly it is what I make it.

Our society puts so much focus on accomplishment to the point that anything less is a failure and that the work attempting it is not celebrated. Why do I need to feel like I need to complete everything to feel like I accomplished something, for it to “count”? Regardless of which side of the debate you’re on, it shouldn’t take away from what was accomplished that day. I set out to see what I was capable of. I found my limit for that day, and I made the good decision to turn around when I did. And after that, still completed the swim and bike back. That’s all gotta count for something, right?

So all in all, it was a successful day in the mountains. I learned where my limits were for that day, what I need to do to improve for next time, and didn’t bail out on the return trip despite the issues high up. Just beginning the adventure at 8 that morning put me further along than the years before, when attempting this challenge was still an aspiration.

This Picnic was an intimidating and exciting challenge. To look at the arduous road that laid in front of me that morning and confidently go after it is something that I was fortunate to experience. This was an opportunity that I was so lucky to have been given, and I was so happy to finally get to be a part of the multisport story contained in the Tetons!

There will be other opportunities. Other attempts. This is not a one-and-done deal. I thoroughly enjoyed this challenge and I am so excited to make another crack at it, whenever that may be. Hopefully sooner than six years from now.