A Snowy Spring Slip and Slide – Grand Teton National Park

We made it to Grand Teton National Park on just the second day the visitor center was open for the season—and it felt like we’d timed it just right. The building itself is a stunner: huge glass walls frame the jagged skyline of the Tetons so perfectly that the exhibits inside almost fade behind the grandeur of the real thing. It reminded us of Arches’ visitor center—modern, well-designed, and clearly the result of a public-private partnership done right. New, sleek, and purpose-built to make you feel like nature is still in charge.

This early in the season, the road to Yellowstone was still closed—just a few days from opening. But thankfully, the Rangers had Junior Ranger books and badges ready to go, just like at Arches. These well-funded, high-traffic parks know what’s coming: school groups, family road trips, badge-chasers. So they’re ready.

We packed up and headed off for a picnic near a mountain stream, where snow still blanketed the shaded banks, but the midday sun had us peeling off layers in 60+ degrees. Out came our usual travel lunch: hard cheeses, hummus, and crackers with Poky trying to sneak a snack.

There was only one hike recommended without snowshoes or cross-country skis. Spoiler alert: this was less a recommendation and more a shrug of “we’ve got nothing else.” A quarter mile in, we hit snow. Half a mile in, the trail disappeared completely—just a well-trodden ribbon of boot prints winding through a forest still buried deeper in snow than James is tall.

But we pressed on—over 3 miles out and back through packed snow to reach Taggart Lake. Frozen over. Quiet. Reflective. Still. The sky was a crisp, cloudless blue and the air was so calm it felt like we’d entered a painting. A ranger had told us it was an “unseasonably warm day,” which felt like a gift just for us.

We all sat on a rock overlooking the lake, snow-capped peaks soaring above us. We talked about how these granite mountains are still rising—and how some are too steep to even hold snow. We passed around snacks and tried not to think about the snow we’d have to slog back through.

And just when we thought the surprises were over, we spotted a moose resting quietly under a tree on our way back—perfectly still in the snowy shade, like it, too, was soaking in the calm of early spring.

This was backcountry in spring. A rare window where the trail is barely navigable, but the rewards are wild and uncrowded. The kids definitely earned their Junior Ranger badges today.

And we earned some sore calves.