Most of the time when my wife and I go on a hike together, it’s a nice break from reality. We’re able to mentally reset from a world that’s “go-go-go” 24/7.
However, every now and then a hike goes beyond that. It restores and inspires.
The Lake Solitude via Cascade Canyon Trail at Teton National Park took us to that level.
The Morning
A couple months ago, early in the morning on the 4th of July, we woke up both nervous and curious. As we opened the blinds at 4:30 AM, it was cloudy and damp from a cool, rainy night. As a morning person, I quickly got dressed and packed our soft cooler Stanley backpack with tuna fish sandwiches and plenty of snacks.
My wife, who isn’t a morning person, got ready surprisingly fast so we could head out ASAP.
We left in our car with me gittery with excitement, and my wife calmly settling in for the 2+ hour drive. For years I’ve put off going to the Tetons, and each year I get more antsy to go.
As we entered Teton National Park, it wasn’t what we expected. The left side is absolutely jaw dropping with the Teton mountain peaks, while the right side was more hill-like than mountainous.
As our GPS directed us to a specific car park, we were surprised by how packed it was at eight in the morning. After a quick bathroom break, we made our way to the Jenny Lake boat shuttle. (It was $20/person for a round trip ticket and saved us from a 2 mile walk around the lake each way.)
Moving across the lake was surreal. The chilly post winter air and monolithic cliffs were a daunting sight. Bubbling up feelings of inadequacy and fear of taking a wrong turn on the 14 mile hike ahead.
After all, this wasn’t just our first time on the Cascade Canyon Trail, it was our first time in the Tetons!
The Beginning
Walking off the boat at 9:45 AM, we had no idea what was instore for the day.
How many people would be on the trail? How much wildlife would there be? What’s the condition of the trail?
Sure, we looked at photos beforehand, but every winter slightly changes the conditions. All we knew was that we needed to be back down by 4 PM. Aka, we had just over 7 hours to hike up 2,362 ft over 7 miles, and then back down.
That’s doable. We’d just need to average a 30 minute mile.
Something that really helped at the start, but quickly became annoying, was how many people there were.
We needed to move faster at the start, since we would get slower as the day progressed. But when you’re walking in a group reminiscent of a crowded high school hallway, that’s not really possible. Even when we made it a couple miles into the hike, we were still having to walk slower than we wanted to.
There were less people, but the trail became narrower. Two people could barely walk side-by-side. Thankfully my wife helped me be patient, since neither of us wanted to ruin anyone’s experience on the mountain.
Eventually we made it to a fork in the road. Thinking I was following the GPS on my phone, we took a right turn. This turned out to be wrong.
I didn’t realize this until we traveled nearly a mile in the wrong direction. We only knew this because we could hear the small waves crashing on the lake shoreline.
This put us in a bit of a pickle. Do we stick with the plan, hike to the peak of the trail, and potentially ruin our timeline? Or do we call it, casually hike around, and make it our timeline? (We had a family gathering that evening.)
With my wife’s optimism and calming presence, we decided to go for it. And go for it we did!
The Ascent
There’s one key detail I haven’t shared. My wife was also at the start of her period. So, we knew the day was going to be extra tough for her. (I still can’t believe she said yes to the hike a couple days before.)
Out of nowhere though, she did something I’ve only seen her do two other times in our four years of marriage. She flipped a switch and completely destroyed anything in front of her.
Despite feeling sick, achy, and crampy, she held such a fast pace that I was starting to have a hard time keeping up with her. I can’t even begin to describe how humbled, yet proud I was on our ascent.
I don’t know how she does things like that. But every time she does, I’m left staggered.
Eventually we got into a comfortable rhythm and enjoyed the astonishing beauty of Cascade Canyon. This day was quickly becoming one for the record books.
The clouds were constantly battling the sun on our way up. Enhancing every view and perspective as we made it to different points.
We would go from overheating and taking off our sweatshirts, to getting cold and throwing them back on. At one point it started to rain, and for some reason we couldn’t help but smile and laugh.
I don’t know why, but this elated us.
On a long hike like this you have a lot of time to think. And if you’re with someone you love and care for with your whole being, those thoughts are usually intertwined with you and them.
These are the moments I hope for on a run, hike, or a simple walk.
Where we forget about ourselves and rediscover purpose and meaning in places we’ve forgotten or become blinded to.
The Peak
The Tetons are grand, and to truly get to their peak requires a lot more preparation and a much more treacherous path. Our peak was Lake Solitude.
A place protected by a circular wall of light gray cliffs. Constantly on the cusp of complete silence. Interrupted by wind shooting up through the canyon, the rustle of earthy green trees and bushes, deep yet powerful thunder booming at different moments, and the pitter patter of water droplets.
After a few minutes of enjoying this orchestra of nature, and catching our breath, light rain joined in. Disrupting the once glass-like top of Lake Solitude.
As we made our way around part of the lake, the bone chilling wind coming up the canyon signaled it was time to begin our descent. We quickly grabbed our tuna sandwiches out of the pack and slowly made our way over the compact patches of snow from seasons past.
The Descent
Once again, the mountain left us in awe as we made our way back down the canyon. We were blessed to re-experience mystical areas that encouraged us to keep going on our ascent.
Such as grassy fields so tightly knit they seemed impenetrable. Groups of small yellow flowers that reminded me of nature’s fragility. And invisible rivers hidden by ancient rockslides. You only know they’re there because of the sound of rushing water beneath your feet.
Eventually though, the physical exhaustion started to come in.
Our feet were beat, knees spent, and we only grew more tired and sore. The snacks we had eaten and could still eat no longer helped. As we reached mile 10, it was hard to know that we had over 4 miles left because of the wrong turn I put us on that morning.
My wife once again showed what real grit looks like. She continued to lead us at a solid, consistent pace. Occasionally turning our hike into a downhill trail run.
Step-by-step, we made it back down to the boat dock. Eternally grateful for the benches we could sit on while waiting for the next shuttle. Miraculously, it was 4PM.
And on that glorious boat ride back across Jenny Lake, my wife and I looked at each other, amazed by what we accomplished and grateful for making it down safely.
The Recap
On July 4th, 2025, we hiked 15.8 miles, with 2,750 ft of elevation gain, in 6 hours, 7 minutes, and 41 seconds. Thanks to the breathtaking, kickass woman I’m so lucky to call my wife, we averaged a 21 minute, 58 second mile time.
Completely obliterating our goal of a 30 minute pace.
I can’t wait to return to the Tetons. We only scratched the surface by doing one of the 118 hikes in the park.
My wife and I have a lot of other national parks to see, but so far, the Tetons are by far the most beautiful we’ve witnessed yet!