Two runners in blue shirts jog along a dirt forest trail surrounded by tall pine trees on a cloudy day.
Outdoor camping breakfast with pancakes cooking on a griddle and crepes in a pan on a portable camp stove.
Man in green shorts and blue shirt sitting outdoors on ground, wearing a smartwatch and dark socks with sneakers.

Let's get this out of the way:

What's a picnic? And why do it?


A “picnic” in this setting is a mountain triathlon of sorts. Created by David Gonzales, picnics differ from a traditional triathlon in a few important ways. For one, they are not organized events. Instead, they are self organized challenges that people take on with friends or on their own. And rather than finishing with a run, you summit a peak. The basic idea is to bike or swim, complete the other, summit a mountain, and then reverse the entire route back to where you started.


The most classic picnic is the Grand Teton Picnic. It starts in Jackson Town Square with a 22 mile bike ride to Jenny Lake, followed by a 1.3 mile swim across the lake, and then a roughly 10 mile trail run, hike, and climb to the summit of the Grand Teton. Once you reach the top, you make your way back down to Jenny Lake, swim across again, and hop back on the bike for the ride into Jackson.


So how did I get involved in all of this?


Back in 2018, I watched an REI video called A Walk in the Park, which documented Kelly Halpin’s attempt at the Teton Picnic. I was incredibly inspired by Kelly’s effort, but at the time, I could not fathom doing something like that myself.


Then, toward the end of the summer in 2025, my longtime friend Caleb sent me a text saying he was thinking about attempting a variation of the Teton Picnic. After weeks of texting about it, researching, and eventually making a trip to Jackson to check things out for ourselves, we committed to giving it a shot in July of 2026.

Man in a white cap, gray t-shirt and olive shorts leaning forward mid-stride on a grassy hillside surrounded by green trees.
Two men wearing green shorts stand outdoors with mountain scenery behind them.
Two pairs of worn gray hiking shoes resting on grass and dirt outdoors.
Two trail runners in jackets and shorts jog along a dirt path through sagebrush and wildflowers, with evergreen trees and mountains beyond.
Cyclist in Oceanasan cycling shorts stands over a gravel bike lying on dry dirt ground in a black and white photo.
Tattooed cyclist wearing black Ocean&San bib shorts and white tee, standing beside a road bike outdoors.
Cyclist in a white t-shirt and black cycling bib shorts holding a helmet beside a teal gravel bike on a rocky path near green foliage.
Smiling bearded man in a white cap, teal t-shirt and olive shorts sits on a log among purple wildflowers and tall grass outdoors.

We received great support for this project from Ocean & San and Nnormal.  All of the running & cycling gear from Ocean & San was perfect for this multi-sport effort. The Nnormal Tomir 2.0 was also the ideal shoe once we broke them in. Caleb and I are both still putting tons of miles on them even after months of training in rugged conditions, and they still feel great.

Cyclist riding a blue gravel bike at night wearing a helmet with headlight, black jacket, and gloves.
Cyclist riding at night on a wet road wearing a helmet and dark clothing, with illuminated garden plants in the background.
Cyclist in helmet and blue jersey stands with Giant road bike at night on a dark outdoor trail.

Part 1: Bike

After a few days in Jackson setting up camp, scouting out transition points, and making sure we had all the food we might need, we crawled into our tents around 7:00 PM the night before our attempt. At 2:30 AM, our alarms went off, and we crawled out of our tents into the dark to make breakfast before driving into Jackson's town square.


We arrived at town square at 3:20 AM, fumbled around in the dark, making sure everything was properly set up on our bikes, and took off 15 minutes later. As we rode along Highway 191 next to the National Elk Refuge just outside of town, it became clear our dreams of pushing hard and completing the bike by 5:00 AM were just that, dreams. A heavy fog lay across the valley floor, making it impossible to see more than six or seven feet ahead of our bikes. The fog, along with a couple of mechanical issues with the bikes and a close call with a couple of bucks (thanks to the fog), made for a rather slow 22-mile ride to Jenny Lake.

Two swimmers in wetsuits and caps stand in shallow water preparing for an open water swim on a foggy day.
Two people sit on a rocky lakeside shore at dusk, with colorful canoes resting among trees by calm water.
Two open water swimmers in wetsuits stand in a calm lake on a foggy day, holding safety buoys.

Part 2: Swim

At 5:30 AM, just before sunrise, we rolled into the Jenny Lake overlook parking lot and were greeted by our wives, Quinn and Stephanie, who had inflated paddle boards and were waiting patiently to follow us across the lake on our swim, just in case things got dicey. Caleb and I hastily changed from our bike kits into our wetsuits, grabbed our dry bags, and meandered down a not-so-official goat path to the edge of the lake.


Lucky us, the heavy fog from our bike ride was covering the entirety of the lake as well. The fog was so thick that you'd have no idea there was a 12,000 ft peak just across the water. Oh well, surely Stephanie or Quinn would be able to find the boat dock and flag us down by the time we got close to the opposite shore. Best to just start swimming and try to stay in a straight line.


So swim we did.


It took us roughly an hour and ten minutes to swim the 1.3 miles across Jenny Lake. This was a slightly slower pace than we had hoped for, until we realized we had actually swum 1.6 miles, potentially as a result of our unintentional non-linear route across the lake. Regardless, we made it and generally felt good. We both had tons of energy and still managed to beat the first ferry of tourists across the water. Onward.

Hiker pointing toward a dramatic rocky mountain peak surrounded by evergreen trees under a hazy sky.
Hiker with backpack traversing rocky alpine terrain with green meadows and granite boulders in a mountain wilderness.

Part 3: TRAIL RUN / HIKE

Two smiling hikers with backpacks pose on a forest trail surrounded by tall evergreen trees.
Rocky mountain landscape with a cascading waterfall, evergreen trees, and rugged cliffs under a clear blue sky.
Hiker climbing a steep snow-covered mountain slope surrounded by rocky peaks under a clear blue sky.
Rocky mountain peak with jagged ridgeline against clear blue sky, showing rugged terrain and natural alpine landscape.
A hiker in gray shirt and white cap crouches on rocky terrain near a mountain stream surrounded by boulders and pine trees.
Hiker in green shorts and red jacket standing on rocky mountain trail with scenic alpine views.
Hiker resting on rocky summit with snow-capped mountain peaks in background on a sunny day.
Hiker with trekking poles and backpack traversing rocky mountain terrain under a clear blue sky.

Off we went towards Lupine Meadows, just after 7:30 AM, bobbing and weaving through busier-than-expected trails along the west side of Jenny Lake. For the first 3 miles, we both jogged and walked. Jogging at times felt like it took more effort, with little to show for it due to the number of people on the trails. We were also doing our best to use this time to fuel up, as we knew we were going to be on our feet for the next 6+ hours, and walking made eating much easier.


Just before 9:00 AM we had gone just over 6 miles, were full of energy, above the tree line and staring right at the Middle Teton. We felt incredible. As we walked into the boulder field that leads up the final ~2.5 miles to the summit, we wondered whether we might be back at Jenny Lake by 1:00 PM or 2:00 PM.


Oh, how wrong we were.

If you were to go on AllTrails and read the reviews for the Middle Teton Southwest Couloir, you would read a multitude of people complaining about how awful the boulder field is on the final portion of this route. If you are like Caleb and me, you may notice that many of these reviews come from people living east of the Mississippi and assume they aren't used to alpine environments. And to be fair to Caleb and me, that may still be true, but their complaints about the boulder field were warranted.


The boulder field was awful. Over two miles of large boulders and the occasional snow field, with no clear route through the madness. We entered the boulder field at 10:30 AM, and did not make it to the chimney until just before 2:00 PM .


After a slow trudge up the boulder field, I began to worry about how long it might take us to get down and how much daylight we might have left for our second swim. I convinced Caleb we should turn around just 0.2 miles from the summit, which may sound ridiculous and felt disappointing in the moment, but ultimately proved to be the right call.



Rocky mountain trail with a dead tree, evergreens, and a distant peak under a hazy sky.

Part 4: The mental slip

A hiker with a green backpack and white cap walks along a narrow forest trail surrounded by pine trees and wildflowers.
Rocky mountain peak with snow patches against a clear blue sky on a sunny day.
A hiker wearing sunglasses and a cap poses on a mountain trail surrounded by pine trees and misty peaks.

As we descended down the boulder field, we began to realize that this would likely take just as much time as coming up. It was harder to find a way down than it was to go up, and the repeated pressure on our feet from the sharp rocks we had been standing on for the last 6 hours was starting to take a toll. We lucked out with a little slide down a snowfield that saved us some time, but then immediately went the wrong way around a large rock feature, which left us cliffed out and forced us to backtrack up the boulder field to find a safer route.


By the time we reached the end of the boulder field around 4:30 PM, our feet were really hurting, but we got a second wave of energy. For the last 7 miles or so, we jogged down the trail, outside of the technical sections, and did our best to get back to Jenny Lake by 6:00 PM. Alas, a bathroom break and wrong turn later, we stumbled up to the Jenny Lake boat dock and our distressed wives at 7:00 PM, watching the last ferry depart for the day.  

A man in a Vortex wetsuit with diving equipment and backpack gear stands outdoors at night.
Cyclist in blue jersey and helmet riding on a dark road at night, illuminated by flash photography.

Part 5 & 6:

2nd Swim, 2nd Bike

As we transitioned to the second swim, my temperature seemed to drop rapidly. Caleb was all ready to go as I still struggled to pull on my wetsuit, so he began the swim (and Stephanie the paddleboard) while Quinn helped me warm up and get some water and nutrition. After some food, water, and jumping jacks, I felt warm enough to get in the water, but was still shaking quite a bit. I figured the movement was better than sitting on the beach as the sun set and the temperature dropped.  Quinn hopped on the paddle board, followed behind me, and we started our chase of Caleb and Stephanie the 1.6 miles back across the lake.


I wouldn't say I blacked out in the water, but it was something close. I just kept my head down and my arms moving, momentarily enjoying the beauty of this moment's stillness as the sun set. An hour later, we made it to the opposing shoreline. Finally.


Another quick transition, some packing of the paddle boards for our wives, a restock of snacks for the final push, and we were off cycling through the park. We logged our fastest times of the day on the first 7 miles or so from Jenny Lake, and felt like we were really about to complete this thing we had dreamed of for so many years.

Sadly, nature had other plans.


As we rode the last few miles towards the park exit, lightning began to rain down from the mountains and into the valley. Initially, we thought we were far enough away to keep pushing, but as we exited the park to turn onto Highway 191, lightning struck so close to us that for a moment, everything went white. This was followed by aggressive wind and rain, so we made a tough call and ditched the bikes, found some cover nearby (bushes), and called our wives to let them know we were calling it quits.

Two cyclists pose with bikes inside a dark tunnel entrance at night, illuminated by a single light.
Two firefighters in dark smoky conditions with orange equipment bags at night emergency scene.
Open water swimmers in wetsuits and orange caps navigate misty waters during a triathlon or open water swimming event.
Two hikers with a dog pose on a forest trail surrounded by tall evergreen trees.
Two shirtless men posing outdoors near a sandy area with trees in the background, captured in a Polaroid-style photo.

The next 45 minutes to an hour we spent waiting in the bushes were filled with questions.

"Did we make the right choice?"

"Should we get back on the bikes and finish this?"

"Are we overreacting? How dangerous would it be to keep going?"

"Does this count as a completion?"

"What do we tell people?"

and, of course, as the night went on, "What are we going to eat?"


Once Quinn and Steph arrived, most of these questions stopped. We were bummed, but now there was nothing we could do. The effort was over.


We ended up driving into town, getting food from the Wendy's drive-through, then stopping at a gas station to try to clean ourselves up in the restroom sinks before heading back to camp.


The next morning at camp, we relived the day and discussed all the things we could have done differently over breakfast. As we talked, Caleb and I each made more peace with the fact that we did not truly complete the effort, but what we did do was still worth celebrating. This was many months of training, planning, and research to undertake an effort far larger than anything either of us had ever tried, and, all things considered, we made a valiant effort. Odds are, without the rain and lightning, we likely would have finished, with our only blemish being falling short of the summit by a few hundred feet.


And who knows, maybe we'll try it again sometime.

Jagged blue mountain peaks rise above green trees and a grassy meadow under a hazy gray sky in a scenic wilderness landscape.