Why marmots will never play slow-pitch softball

Remember when I got literally blown off that saddle from the wind a while ago? Well, I went back.

Mt Pollock and Mt Piegan are easily accessible from that saddle. There is also a third high point nearby called Bishops Cap. Not in my day, but apparently now, these three high points are called the ‘Trifecta of the Garden Wall’. Which I hate. Because if you don’t climb all three on thesame day (not a big deal, maybe 9-10 hours), you have somehow ‘come up short’ and are some kind of hiking loser.

Screw that and people who think that way. I’ve never been drawn to climb the Bishops Cap. That rock doesn’t speak to me or is worth my limited time this summer. But I will enjoy Piegan and Pollock. On my own schedule.

It’s only about an hour and a half up to the saddle between P & P from the Sun Road. I think the saddle is a great destination on its own. You get to watch the peaks of Logan Pass wake up with the sun if you start early.

Once there, it’s only about 30 minutes to the top of Piegan. The climbing is just an absolute joy. You can maintain a standing scramble, with no cliffs, chutes, ladders, or touching death. It’s a nice walk up a nice hill.

And I am so glad I did not try it in the wind. I realized before I was looking at a false summit, and it would have been very, very, very sad to be torn to shreds by the wind with nothing to see but the salty tears as the blowing grit caked my eyes shut.

My time on top was soured a little by another couple who rolled up there a few minutes after I did. Hmmm…. Awkward. Came up a different route.

I’m used to being all alone on my hikes. I talked to them some, mainly because his girlfriend was a hiker hottie (about a 9, which would make her a 5.5 if we were standing in a checkout line at a Target store). He was saying he was some kind of big rock climber from WA state. Hmmmmm. I’ve only lived there for 40 years; there is not a lot of great rock to actually climb. But I was kind and didn’t call him out on the oxymoron.

It was just too fine a morning. I just didn’t care. The views were great, and the sky was azure blue; Piegan glacier was glorious down below. This is a real nice vantage point for any Glacier purist, and the admission is actually affordable. The effort is clearly worth it.

I got the feeling they were doing the Trifecta because they kept saying they had only ‘limited’ time in the park. That’s what people say when they are only here for a day. They need to ‘experience’ as much as possible in a couple of hours. Then document their speed trip with digital photos that will never be seen again once they are safely sent to the Cloud.

I wanted to get ahead of them to have the next summit to myself for a few minutes. I started back down to the saddle. On to Pollock Peak.

Pollock is another animal entirely. It is a totally different climbing experience. Open scree cliffs. A lot more exposure. You have to wedge your body into a kind of long and scary ‘cleft’ to ascend. Used a lot of upper body strength, and some of the handholds were a little on the hairy side given the exposure.

In retrospect, it was not THAT bad. Tons of good foot and hand holds. And if things got a little iffy, as I said, you would just crush your shoulders back into the chimney and create a nice wedge hold. Maybe dangle your feet some for cool photos. 

The chimney was a pretty long pitch, which may spook most people because of the potential for rockfall to take out their skulls. I would have felt better with a helmet. I was wearing my Osprey external frame speed-air pack, which is pretty wide. I had to stash it on a rock shelf at the base of the chute. It should be fine since I’d be right back down after the summit photos and quick video.

But the views! Although close to Piegan, I thought they were better as nothing stood in the way (i.e., Pollock)—no blind spots. The Garden Wall was glorious, and you could actually see the Many Glacier Hotel down on Swiftcurrent Lake. Along with the red scree of both Alytn and Henkel.

I really missed not visiting the Swiftcurrent Valley this summer. I only have the patience for so many shit shows this season, and I hate seeing the area I love so much get so abused this season. I even had a marmot pose on the summit cairn, with a nice backdrop against Mt Gould. Little did I know he was distracting me. I was soon to find that marmots are the criminal equivalent of the Mafia in Glacier Park.

I hung out on the summit until the other couple arrived. It took them a really LONG time. If you aren’t familiar with climbing the horrible rock in Glacier, it can be pretty unnerving. It is so unique that Glacier has its own climb rating system that no other NP uses.

I wanted to make sure the route was evident before descent (waited for the hiker couple to get busy taking selfies on the summit). I didn’t want the foolhardy to drop rocks on me in that narrow chute. I really think if they had not seen seen where I stashed my pack, clearly marking the correct route up (there are a lot of false chimneys that cliff out), that they would not have tried it. Looks impossible to someone that doesn’t know the park.

Once on top they asked all kinds of questions about the Bishops Cap, surrounding mountains, and place names. I I got to do my tour guide bit which was kinda fun. I tell you all this because I was up there a lot longer than planned.

As a result, I returned down the chute to find a marmot gnawing on the sweaty cork handles of my trekking poles clipped into my pack. He had even dragged the pack out from where I had it wedged. I spooked him off. He was pretty pissed, and he jumped down a couple of shelves. Just howling back at me.

But this filthy piece of shag carpet would not back off. He kept growling at me with a sound I had only heard from an angry mammal many times, his fat rat dog size. Now I have to hike with trekking pole handles covered with slimy spit all over them. Probably contract some flesh-eating marmot virus. Then lapse into a mystery coma. End up in a MASH-like field hospital where all the sick transient RV park people are taken. Before I know it, I’m Soylent Green. Lot of movie references here. Might want to open Google.

So out of frustration, and to back off the furry bastard, I picked up an eight-pound flat rock and lobbed it in his direction. As the stone reached it apex in a high gentle arc, I started to wonder about the spatial ability of marmots.

They are too big for birds to prey on. So how often to the look to the sky for threats? If they saw an 8 lb. rock dropping towards them like a meteor, would it even register? Why is that little dot getting bigger and bigger? I wonder if it tastes like salt? Suddenly, Thud. What is all this pain? Why am I seeing the stars of the universe?

Like a slow-motion train wreck, I watched this hurling silent rock from nowhere bean the marmot just behind the left ear. Big cringe for me. Oops. My bad. He caught the full brunt of a Mt Pollock smackdown square on his head.

Why didn’t you just move, little buddy? Just not use to the terror from above? But he howl that came from this diminutive beast was one of the most horrifying sounds I have ever heard. And I have seen a lot of Sci-Fi monster movies.

Then he just kinds of shook it all, and things got really weird. Mr. Marmot started making grizzly bear quality growls clearly directed at me, with the stink eye and everything. Now it’s personal. Eventually he slinked off into a rock crevice.

Feeling a bit bad and vowing never to tell anyone about this lapse of judgement, I prepped my backpack for the descent. Hey, wait a minute, why is that pocket zipper open? Its it because that is where I keep all my food? Whew. All still there. Power bars, propel, even a freezer bag of Wheat Thins. Nothing chewed on or torn open. Guess I got lucky.

Zipped-up, slung my pack, and …. wait a minute. No fricking way. Noooooo. I threw my pack down again. Unzipped every pocket. Nope. Nope. Nope. Gone. My compact Nikon binoculars. The ones that Nancy had just priority mailed me so I can finally see all of this incredible wildlife up close and personal this summer. The ones I just put in my pack for the first time this morning. The ones that were in …. the food pocket. I checked the entire rock shelf. And the next shelf down. And the one below that one. Gone. Those wonderful binos we had had for years. In that wonder faux leather case that must have smelled so good to the mountain mini-mammal.

The next several minutes I only have flashbacks, with no real recollection. There was a flaying of arms, as I believe I threw every rock within a ten-foot reach down the mountain in a reign of shock and awe that would have scared Thor and shook every soul out of Valhalla.

I was spiritually affected as well. I began speaking in tongues. I’m guessing New York City tongues. The firehose of rage and torrent of profanities the spewed from my possessed mouth made regular English feel like a second language. Every consonant and vowel was seamlessly integrated with curses that took the form of every possible grammatically correct tense. Nouns, verbs, adjectives, and even past participles. I orally painted the Mona Lisa of marmot damnation with cussing so loud it could be tasted.

Eventually I came to terms with my loss. How if the Germans had not shared optical lens technology with the Japanese for their periscope advancement, these fine high-quality optics would not now be lost forever. Entombed in the squalid nest of a gloried undeserving pack rat.

I made my peace and gave a little prayer up to the mountain gods, asking that my Stone of Anger did not break his little neck or cause mortal internal injuries. That instead he receives an impacted colon from the cork of my trekking pole handles and the synthetic case of the binoculars. That he dies a slow, bloated, painful death all alone with no comfort from loved ones in his rocky eternal purgatory. Ah, yes, Pollock has him now (and will never let go).

Right at this Zen moment, I heard this faint, questioning, hesitant yell from the couple above still on the summit ‘is everything all right down there.’ I gave the all clear shout for the chute, at the top of which they had been quietly waiting (thankfully out of sight) to descend. I buckled up, and headed back to the car with all speed. I could never face those strangers again. And I really needed some alone time. Not my best moment, but at least I gave them a story to tell.

Snapped one parting picture of lovely Lunch Creek with Heavy Runner Mtn in the background on a wonderful day. Never used those binos much anyway. And marmot eyes are too close together to use them, so we all know who the joke is really on. Silly marmot.