Convict Lake in the mid-day sun

Though the bed is far more comfortable than in most rentals the marmots have stayed in, they wake up feeling… not great. Marmot 02 thinks she has a cold because she is boogery and dizzy. Marmot 01 says “that’s just the mountains—don’t worry, you just need a cup of tea and you’ll feel better soon.” Marmot 01 doesn’t feel great either but she knows what to expect. Sure enough, after a cup of tea and many nose-blowings, the marmots feel much better. They call the property management company to report the things needing repair, and are assured a technician will be out that day. Great, they think—they can hike all day and come back to a nice working fireplace and Marmot 01 can enjoy some Monday night football.

Next, the marmots embark on their first hike to “test the waters.” The hike is Convict Lake, at about 8k feet. The lake and sky are clear. The surrounding mountains are a little dizzying. Their stark nearness confuses the brain. The trail is mostly flat and tracks the lake perimeter, though adventure seekers can hop on the John Muir trail from a connecting point here to end up in the mountains on the PCT.

A John Muir Wilderness trail heads west up Convict Canyon

Cookie and Gertie hop out of the camera bag for a few poses at the John Muir trail juncture. Marmot 02 starts out very slowly but after an hour or so of warming up she begins to feel much better. The sunshine is welcome and the air smells clean.

Cookie admires Convict Lake and looks towards the east.

About halfway around the lake, ominous clouds blow in and the sky gets dark. But wait—is that a perfect boulder-sized rock for marmots? The marmots climb upon the still-warm rock to pose for marmot-esque photos.

The perfect hot rock for a marmot

Suddenly they hear thunder and see fishers from all sides of the lake scamper back to their trailers and cars like little animals burrowing into their dens. It begins pouring rain. The marmots skedaddle back to the car to avoid being struck by lightning, but because they are on vacation and it is not too cold, the rain is fun and charming and they laugh the whole way. Marmot 02 is very pleased she is able to skedaddle, knowing this means she has adapted to the altitude relatively quickly.

Clouds from the west drop some mid-afternoon rain on the marmots!

Back in town, it is still raining. The marmots decide to head to the Mammoth Fun Shop to get some rainy-day goodies. They pick up a new game called Lanterns, a squirrel jigsaw puzzle, and a Nano wooly mammoth (Nano are like miniature logo kits). Then they head to Mimi’s Cookie Bar, new in town since Marmot 01 was last here, for some outrageous cream-stuffed gluten-free Florentines. But no sooner do they buy the goodies than the skies clear again. The marmots are so pumped to be on vacation they go out for another adventure—this time down the precarious one-lane, cliff-side death-road with no guardrail (that is frequented by gargantuan Winnebagos) to Devil’s Postpile National Monument. At 15 mph it feels like hours coming down the 3 miles of the worst part of the road.

Devil’s Postpile National Monument in the late afternoon

The marmots fortunately make it to the trailhead without incident to get some dusky photos of the Postpile and then head over to Minaret Falls, which connects with the trail. Minaret Falls is more pretty than powerful, as it glazes down and across myriad boulders in seemingly arbitrary steps.

Minaret Falls flows over volcanic rock

They get more dusky photos of the charming falls and mosey back to the car. By the time they make it back, it is almost dark, which turns out to be a major advantage heading back up the horrendous one-lane death-road. No one else is coming down the road—people around here seem to do everything in the mornings and it is very quiet in the afternoons and at night.

Back at the condo, the marmots arrive to find two of the three light bulbs have been replaced, and batteries have been put in the fireplace’s remote control. Still no remote for the cable. The marmots can’t wait to turn on the fireplace after their chilly evening hikes. But—the remote control to the fireplace doesn’t turn the fireplace on. The marmots get sad, droopy ears and whiskers and grumble about the incompetent bureaucracy of property management companies before hitting the sack.