Brian and I planned our 10th wedding anniversary years ago. September, 12, 2025. We were going to go to Glacier National Park in Montana, backpack through as much of it as we could, day hike other trails, enjoy every site and definitely not get eaten by a bear.

Glacier has been a dream trip of mine for most of my adulthood. It was a dream so strong it crept to the top of Brian’s bucket list, too.

So many dreams died with Brian. His dreams. Our dreams. Most of my dreams. Glacier is one dream that didn’t die, but it did drastically change. Today on our 10th wedding anniversary, I am not in Glacier, nor do I have plans to visit Glacier. Nevertheless, adventure called this year of what should have been our 10th anniversary, and I went.

In June I had the wonderful opportunity to fly to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and spend a week in Grand Teton National Park and the surrounding area.

The Plan

My Uncle Scott and Aunt Bridget are avid outdoorspeople. Their honeymoon was a whitewater rafting trip through the Grand Canyon and their adventures have only increased since that trip 30-plus years ago. They’ve traveled to Grand Teton National Park umpteen times and I’d venture they know the area as well as many locals.

Last year Bridget floated the idea of going to the Grand Tetons together. A week in the mountains? Few earthly things sound more glorious.

This wasn’t the first time we’d shared the Tetons. Our first trips overlapped in 1997 when we planned a family vacation there and she and Uncle Scott separately planned their trip. Overlapping dates meant we got to spend some time together out there.

But as a 13-year-old, I lacked the appreciation for nature I have now, and did not have the stamina or desire to get into physical condition to tackle some of the more challenging areas of the park. This time, as a woman more than thrice that age, it all changed.

Their incredible knowledge of the area meant they could plan a trip where all I had to do was show up the right equipment. I spent months strength and endurance training so I could tackle the trails, distance and hopefully acclimate quickly to the altitude. My only requirement? Don’t get eaten by a bear. Bonus requirement? See a moose.

Tetons: Adult style

My kids and my work schedule dictated our trip timing, which turned out to be mid-June. A bit early in the season, but the timing simply enabled us to experience the area in a new way. Melting snow from higher altitudes yielded roaring waterfalls. Delicate wildflowers popped through our week there, coloring the landscape with yellow, red, orange, purple and more. Mosquitoes swarmed our campsite in droves.

The following are just a few of the highlights I’ve spent months trying to—and falling short each time—find words to express even a fraction of the glory and majesty of the Grand Tetons.

Jenny Lake and Inspiration Point: After a breathtaking descent into Jackson Hole, we lunched with a view of the mountains then took off to take the ferry across Jenny Lake and climb up to Inspiration Point by way of Hidden Falls. The power of the water cascading down the stream and at the falls themselves made me feel nearly giddy. The temperature change when stepping into the falls’ vicinity was notable. Mountain water droplets sprayed in a refreshing, exhilarating mist. We continued up the trail to Inspiration Point, sitting at a pretty 7,200-foot elevation. We could see across the brilliant, deep blue Jenny Lake and see the Gros Ventre mountains in the distance.

Altitude: The altitude was one thing I simply could not prepare for. Overtraining and maximizing my fitness seemed like the best way and some friends who live at elevation told me to hydrate hydrate hydrate. I live at just under 1,000 feet elevation; Jackson, Wyoming, is around 6,200 feet. The trails only took us uphill from there. Our first full day there they planned a more aggressive hike from Teton Village to Rendezvous Peak by way of the Wildflower Trail. Not only was the trail littered with switchbacks and mostly exposed, but it was several miles of straight uphill. It hurt my pride more than anything. I knew I could physically handle straight uphill, but my lungs simply would not rise to the challenge. Once we got to the top we enjoyed a picnic lunch we packed, plenty of water and panoramic views. We made it as high up as the Bridger Gondola; the trail ascent to Rendezvous Peak itself wasn’t yet passable with snow and ice. I questioned my ability to hike any of our planned routes the rest of the trip on this day. I sweat so profusely and wiped it off of my forehead so frequently that I took all the sunscreen off and was left with a sunburned, painful, puffy face. Fortunately, my self-doubt and wounded pride was short-lived. Uncle Scott and Bridget knew what they were doing on this day of acclimation and by the last day out west I felt strong enough to power up nearly any trail.

The views: One could spend an entire week in the area just driving from overlook to overlook, and for good reason. They are breathtaking. The vistas, the topography, the peaceful majesty of it all. Oxbow Bend and Snake River Overlook were two of the areas where visited just to look. Crowded though the areas were, there’s something so humbling about being in the presence of such magnificence that I don’t recall it being loud or the people being inconsiderable of others. We were all there to take it in, knowing the many photos we snapped captured but a fraction of what was in front of our eyes.

Kayaking on the Snake: Our trip out west in the late ’90s included a whitewater rafting adventure down the Snake River. I’ve since associated the Snake River with aggressive water, so never considered the idea of a calm stretch to kayak down. In a fete of incredible packing efficiency, Uncle Scott and Bridget crammed an inflatable kayak and paddle into a large suitcase. We took it to Jackson Lake Dam a couple times, inflated it, I put on a borrowed PFD, hopped in and floated down the river. Ahead of me was tranquil water, woods, birds flying overhead, mountains in the distance. Two playful river otter flitted by on one of the floats, chasing each other, playing whatever game they were, just enjoying life. Behind me were the mighty Tetons. Craggy, snow-capped granite monstrosities. Both feral and beautiful.

Campsites: Our campsite along Jackson Lake fit our tents, minivan, picnic area and bear bin well enough. After a bit of a snafu where our original campsite was double-booked, we settled into our new patch of land. Camping out west requires some thoughtfulness—namely, stashing any food, toiletries or anything that has a scent in a bear bin when not in active use. We enjoyed delicious, nutritious meals over the campfire, including salmon, chicken, asparagus and other produce. We poured wine into plastic cups and sipped cautiously, finding the balance between enjoying the evenings and not letting the wine affect us at altitude and hamper the next day’s ventures. We swatted at mosquitoes who targeted any bare area of skin and didn’t hesitate to bite through layers of clothing.

Grandview Trail: This trail turned into one of my favorites. It’s still a lesser-known one to tourists and was just a delightful morning. The wildflowers were popping when I arrived in Wyoming and by the time we hiked this trail midway through the week they were even more brilliant. Thousands of yellow arrowleaf balsamroot bloomed across the fields. Breathtaking.

The Backpack: Weather conditions prevented our original backcountry plans as crossing Paintbrush Divide still required crampons and ice axes—a skillset I do not have and was not willing to learn on the fly. The park rangers worked with us to find an alternative route so rather than the originally planned loop, we went in and out via Cascade Canyon.

This was my first ever backcountry backpack trek and I hope the first of many to come. It’s not your typical relaxing vacation. It takes months of preparation and plenty of physical and mental grit on the trail to haul pounds of gear, food and water. It’s hard to walk uphill and sometimes even harder to go downhill. The snow and ice on our hike to Lake Solitude was scary. It was deep, slick, and the sunshine melted enough to form a slushy top layer that was all too easy to fall on. (I think all of us fell at least once.) But the pride, the exhiliration, the awe of being out there and of actually doing it is a high I don’t think I will ever be able to stop chasing.

Uncle Scott is a prolific writer and summarized our backcountry days beautifully, that I share here: Our exhilarating backcountry trek was saturated with challenge and awe. We saved ourselves 2.5 miles taking the boat across Jenny Lake then commenced a 6-mile trek into the North Fork of Cascade Canyon. We camped at 8,000+ feet on an island of soil surrounded by fields of snow. The thunder of turbulent snow-melt fed streams and cascades granted soothing white noise. Adorable marmots hungry for a treat greeted us, but we declined their overtures. The vista from our site, one of grandeur (no delusions), offered the Grand, above our site a series of teepee like peaks called the Wigwams, the distant wall leading to Paintbrush Divide, and a hint of the path toward Lake Solitude. Day 2 ‘twas a trying trek to “solitude”. The 1.5-mile ascent to Lake Solitude at 9,000 feet was through a field of snow and across a footbridge below which the effluent from Solitude raged. We followed in the path of foot prints and postholes of blazers before us. Still mostly frozen Lake Solitude was its namesake – much from the setting and some from the achievement. We were fueled by AAA – Adrenaline, Aerobic, & Awe.

Our backcountry sustenance included mocha coffee (Starbucks instant coffee and hot chocolate), ramen noodles and cheese, protein bars, and rehydrated (just add boiling water) dinners of prefabricated Backcountry Pantry dehydrated foods combined with Laurie’s delightful dehydrated greens, rice, and venison.

The wildlife: I have wanted to see a moose in the wild since our trip to Jackson in 1997. We didn’t that time, nor have I on several trips to Maine, other national parks or on any other travels. Uncle Scott and Bridget know all the moose hangouts and oh my did we try to find moose. We spotted elk, buffalo and shared our campsite with marmots. We spotted bear several times. The moose, however, remained elusive. Hikers on our backpack would tell us about moose or other wildlife spottings up ahead, but by the time we got there, the moose was gone. But on our hike out from Cascade Canyon, a couple told us about a young moose just around the bend. Giddy at the possibility, we ran ahead and there it was. A young moose enjoying early morning foraging. We also enjoyed several mama and baby bear sitings. One was on the Grandview Trail, a mama bear and her two first-year cubs. The second was also on the hike out of Cascade Canyon, this time a black mama bear and her two second-year cinnamon-colored cubs. These gentle giants are a sight to behold. The crowds that gathered watched reverently.

The sites: Jackson Hole is nature and outdoors, but we also needed to give our bodies some breaks. We visited the National Museum of Wildlife Art one day to see appreciate paintings, sculptures, photography and education about wildlife. The Great Elephant Migration exhibit was in its final days on display—a global fundraising effort to power human-wildlife coexistence projects and protect migratory animals. The exhibit of 100 elephants traveled across the U.S. Artisans crafted each sculpture out of an invasive weed and modeled it after a real elephant. The Laurance S. Rockefeller Preserve Center is another worthwhile visit. It offers educational programming and has terrific sensory exhibits, including tactile, auditory and visual.

The people: Outdoor people are among the kindest, most genuine people out there. We’re all out there to challenge ourselves and to enjoy the world in its purest form. Along each of the trails and at each of the stops, we chatted with people from all backgrounds. We talked with people along the Grandview Trail who had impressive knowledge of the area’s flora. A woman at Inspiration Point noticed my Children’s Grief Awareness Day shirt and struck up a conversation about support for grieving families. We celebrated reaching Lake Solitude with several other people who visited the site—most of whom happened to be from North Carolina! We ran into one of those North Carolinian groups at our campsite a few days later and another couple a few days after that at a trailhead. On another hike, a stranger offered to take my photo then text it to me. The text didn’t go through, but we ran into that same couple at a local restaurant that night and she re-sent it. On another hike I got a bit nervy about crossing a stream near the edge of a waterfall and a stranger reached across and had me take her hand for support. For an area as crowded as Jackson Hole, it’s a small world of like-minded individuals in pursuit of their next trail.

Delta Lake: This is a hike that nearly didn’t happen because of a pretty severe blister on my left foot. Something in me knew it was going to be worth it and I believe I used the phrase that I was “hell bent” on doing the hike. So with plenty of blister bandages secured on my foot, we went. The beginning of the trail was benign enough, with a gentle ascent in shade. As it progressed, the grade became steeper. Switchbacks once again reared their ugly head. But unlike that first day on the Wildflower Trail, I steadied my breathing and gleefully galloped uphill, gaining about 2,200 feet of elevation. The final stretch of the trail to Delta Lake isn’t park maintained and was about a mile of boulder scrambling and a final short but steep 52-degree ascent. (Going up that wasn’t terrible; going down that grade was a different story.)

Once at the top, it was more than I could have imagined. Delta Lake sits at the base of the Grand. Glaciers feed the lake, which empties into a waterfall cascading down the mountain. The lake is an otherwordly clear blue, pure as can be. Each person exuded joy. Several hikers took the polar plunge. One young woman was celebrating her birthday with her family, and many of us joined in a stirring rendition of singing Happy Birthday to Summer. (We also climbed this trail on the first day of Summer; how appropriate!) Delta Lake truly felt like being on top of the world. It was the perfect ending for a remarkable trip filled with adventure, healing, moments of defeat, more moments of victory, laughter, joy, reverence and awe.

Happy hour in the hostel

Jackson Hole is not an inexpensive area and if you appreciate happy hour, perhaps the best way to do it is to get some cheese, crackers and beverage of choice at the grocery store. Get a WiFi connection (or have a cellular carrier that actually has reception in the area), find a fun playlist to boogie to in your room and — voila! — you have happy hour.

On my final night out west, we took turns finding mountain-themed songs to share and dance to. Uncle Scott or Bridget pulled up “Sing to the Mountains” by Elephant Revival. I’d not heard that song before and it’s quickly made itself at home on my frequently played songs. “Sing to the Mountains” references the connection between humanity and nature and embracing self-expression and authenticity.

Humans are designed to feel connected with the outdoors. I believe we are supposed to feel small and humbled in the presence of the powerful and awe-inspiring mountains. But we don’t feel small in a diminished or shrunken way; we feel small because we gain rare perspective as to the magnitude of this world and our place in it.

Where else can we be our authentic selves, if not in the mountains and under the same heavenly skies under which our ancestors existed and generations to come will? It is where we can connect with ourselves, with others and feel closest to those we have love and lost.

It is where I’ve felt closest to Brian since he died. I carried his photo in my pack as a tangible reminder that he was with me. His memory and his spirit live, always, in my heart. I wept he wasn’t experiencing the trip alongside me. And I found moments of true joy and even moments when my inner turmoil calmed as I crested hill after hill, soaked in view after view, looked up to the heavens, which felt so much closer in that vast country, and said, “Look Brian! Do you see what I see? I did it. We did it.”