Marmot Stories

First trip to the Tetons, and mountaineering, I had a marmot run across my chest at like three in the morning on the Grand.  I was lying in my sleeping bag open air camped at the cliff edge near The Caves, full of marmots. I sat up with a gasp, and realized it was the marmots playing over the top of me. I then spent a sleepless rest of the morning voluntarily trying to breath, apnea of course, having flown in the morning before from years at sea-level, hiking up with zero acclimatizeing to 10,000 ft. Rascal marmots. Just couldn't let me suffocate in oblivion.

I heard this one from a friend. It’s a little more macabre…
His party was camping below a peak in Colorado. He had a large party, and was occupying a nice site with a few tents. It was pretty late, and a heavy rain had started. They’re hunkering in their tents when a SAR party wanders in and asks if they can share the site for the night; they are on a body recovery mission. A couple of the SAR team members continue up the mountain to try and locate the deceased so the morning’s recovery op goes smoothly.
The pair returns later and muster the full team. They want to go up and recover the body immediately, in the dark and the rainstorm. The rest of the team voices their opposition- why can’t it wait until the morning??
“Marmots”, one of the scouts says. The searchers had located the subject and observed that marmots had converged and had begun to scavenge the remains…

Not so cute to me, anymore. 

We came down from a day of climbing in the Tetons to find that marmots had eaten the foam grips off our poles. And stolen my partners sunglasses. Super annoying!

Wendy Laakmann wrote:

We came down from a day of climbing in the Tetons to find that marmots had eaten the foam grips off our poles. And stolen my partners sunglasses. Super annoying!

Salt.

On my first trip into the Tetons we returned to our camp to find the marmots had eaten some food. The insult though was one pee'd and pooped on/in my sleep bag. I was so tired (just did the north face) I did not care, I just shook the bag out, crawled in and went to sleep. Since then I have wised up to them thar marmots.

I was backpacked into a cirque in Colorado (Mystic Island). We set up camp and left for 30 minutes to locate the start of our scramble so it would be easier to find the next morning in the dark. After returning to camp 30 minutes later, I see a marmot run out from under the tent vestibule. Open up the fly and there is a hole in the wall of my 3 person 4 season mountaineering tent. Enter the tent and there is marmot piss and shit all over the sleeping bags and pads of the other two in my group. The back padding of my gregory denali pro pack is chewed to shit. We had left zero food in the tent.

One sleeping pad had soaked up so much piss that we couldnt take the smell in the tent so we shared the two remaining sleeping pads the rest of the trip. Moved camp location. Duct taped backpack. Had tent repaired after returning home from the trip.

Had my trekking pole handles chewed up in CO as well but that seems almost standard.

Years ago we were doing the D7 raps down the Diamond. I look down and a marmot is chewing on my boot. I start yelling and throwing little pebbles at it. Little bastard looks up at me and pushes my boot off out of spite. I watched it tumble down towards the lower east face, imagining my hike out in one climbing shoe. Miraculously it stopped right before taking the big plunge, teetering on the edge. It was pretty sketchy to go down and get it, but at least I was able to hike out in proper footwear!

Rock Jock wrote:

I heard this one from a friend. It’s a little more macabre…
His party was camping below a peak in Colorado. He had a large party, and was occupying a nice site with a few tents. It was pretty late, and a heavy rain had started. They’re hunkering in their tents when a SAR party wanders in and asks if they can share the site for the night; they are on a body recovery mission. A couple of the SAR team members continue up the mountain to try and locate the deceased so the morning’s recovery op goes smoothly.
The pair returns later and muster the full team. They want to go up and recover the body immediately, in the dark and the rainstorm. The rest of the team voices their opposition- why can’t it wait until the morning??
“Marmots”, one of the scouts says. The searchers had located the subject and observed that marmots had converged and had begun to scavenge the remains…

Not so cute to me, anymore. 

Marmots gotta eat too...

Both times I climbed the Petit Grepon in Colorado's RMNP, there was a super fat marmot half way up the climb on a big ledge.  The guy was clearly used to having climbers come along and came over and begged for food.  Pretty impressive that he lived so far up the route.  

Ryan Franz wrote:

Years ago we were doing the D7 raps down the Diamond. I look down and a marmot is chewing on my boot. I start yelling and throwing little pebbles at it. Little bastard looks up at me and pushes my boot off out of spite. I watched it tumble down towards the lower east face, imagining my hike out in one climbing shoe. Miraculously it stopped right before taking the big plunge, teetering on the edge. It was pretty sketchy to go down and get it, but at least I was able to hike out in proper footwear!

Marmots with attitude...

Relaying my wife's story: Years ago, she guided for Outward Bound in Colorado and one early morning, she set the alarm on her watch for 3am so the group could tag a summit and get down the other side before afternoon lighting storms. Only, she overslept: A marmot had made off with her watch in the night. The consolation is that to this day the little bastard is waking up every morning at 3am.

Garth Sundem wrote:

... Only, she overslept: A marmot had made off with her watch in the night. The consolation is that to this day the little bastard is waking up every morning at 3am.

Wait...I'm still laughing...It's a rain day with nothing better to do for entertainment. 

It seems the marmots in CO and WY are just a bunch of furry hooligans. I’ve spent countless nights in the high Sierra for almost 50 years and never had any trouble with marmots.  Maybe I’ve just been lucky.