This is the year of the slowest snowpack melt on record. As of June 1, the Peak-to-Peak Highway was not yet open because there was still over 13 ft. of snow on the road. So about 1.7 mi into our 2-mile mountain hike, we ran into a snow field, as shown. What you can't tell from the photo is that the snow was at least Tucker-waist deep in many spots, even though it was probably close to 60 degrees outside. So we decided to turn back a bit short of the lake, judging it preferable to losing our son somewhere along the path in a snowbank.
We did several shorter low-land hikes over the following two days, flat ones around lakes and streams, saw elk, visited visitors' centers, and generally had a wonderful few days of family time before the summer workload began to hit. I think the kids had the most fun on the rocks quite near to our campsite, which Tuck promptly proclaimed "my fire truck!" and let his sister come along for the ride. Here they are, and someone has borrowed his daddy's hat: