Wildflowers blow in the constant breeze at the lower Gaylor Lake

The marmots initially intend to “take it easy” this day in preparation for their longest hike of all, the hike to Duck Lake, planned for the next day. But they cannot help themselves and head up to Yosemite to look for wild-marmots. They have been warned how steep and high the hike to Gaylor Lakes is but decide to try it since it is only a mile long. They make the hideous-beautiful drive back up to Tioga Pass and park at the trail just inside the eastern park entrance.

Gaylor Lakes signage extolling the wisdom of marmots and the details of the area trails.

The trail does begin straight up—800 feet in 1 mile, reaching 10, 500 feet. The entire trail is basically a staircase of rocks, slippery gravel, and dust, but it is flanked on both sides by rich meadows and forest. There are Clark’s Nutcrackers all around, screeching and dancing past each other from tree to tree, taking frequent breaks to bury seeds. They seem harried and anxious, like there is much urgency to their task.

The view from Gaylor Pass looking down in Dana Meadows

The marmots frequently have to yield to faster hikers but also occasionally pass others. While waiting at the side of the trail to catch their breath (mostly for Marmot 02), they witness a golden eagle perched in a tree branch. They get a photo but before they can fit the zoom lens on, the eagle flies away. It is lovely to watch.

Marmot 01 asks a couple of descending hikers if they saw marmots at the lake. “What is that?” says one of the hip Europeans. Marmot 01 suppresses an eye roll and describes marmots to him. He says, “No, I don’t think I saw that—sorry.” Marmot 01 feels annoyed yet determined. “That guy wouldn’t know a marmot if it climbed his backpack—I just know there are marmots up there.” She asks a couple of rugged-looking older women if they saw a marmot at the lake. “Is that what that little furry guy was we saw sunning himself on a rock? Here, I got a photo—is this a marmot?” Marmot 01 lights up—“Yes, that’s a marmot! Where did you see it?” Take a left at the lake and look for a large boulder, says the woman. Near the top of the trail, as confidence builds and the hike becomes more and more purpose-driven, Marmot 01 questions one more Euro-hiker. He says he saw two “very fat” marmots past the lake on another trail. The marmots hope to not have to venture that far.

Eventually they climb out of the forest and meadow to a wind-blown, rocky peak. Just on the other side of the peak are more perilous steps down—they will have to climb back up on their return if they want to get to the lake and have a chance to see the marmots. They decide it is what must be done. As they approach the lake they are much more alone. Some of the hikers they passed previously seem to not ever make it all the way.

Gaylor Lake from Gaylor Pass — are there marmots in the rocks below?!?!?

The marmots walk only maybe 200 feet down the trail around the lake before Marmot 01 spies a brown, furry little beastie scamper across boulders. It’s a marmot alright—a yellow-bellied marmot. In their excitement, the marmots seem to frighten the rascal. It dives into its den immediately before the marmots can get a photo. They decide to sit on an opposite boulder to observe, hoping if they stay quiet the wild marmots will emerge. They eat their pbj’s and wait. And wait. They get tired of the wind. Marmot 02 is satisfied that they at least saw a marmot. Marmot 01 is not—she insists on getting photos. Marmot 01 feels the pull of the sunshine on the other side of the lake. If there’s one thing she knows about marmots, it’s their propensity to lounge on warm boulders in the sun. There is a better chance their comrades will surface over there. They continue around the lake, although the trip is exhausting—Marmot 01 is not dressed for the wind and cold and Marmot 02 is just plain dead tired.

Marmot selfie at Gaylor Lake

Marmot 01, playing the sentry, is again the first to spot the next marmot, about halfway around the lake. This one is less shy and observes the marmots from afar as they get a couple of crappy photos.

What fat-mammal dost thou seest on thy yonder rocks?

Slowly they are able to approach more closely. Marmot 01 tosses carrots toward the marmot and it takes the bait. The marmots get some photos and some video of the nomming marmot, but as they approach a little too closely it runs for another boulder and dives into its den.

Beautiful marmot poses for senior portrait on the lake front

Further up the trail the marmots encounter more wild marmots—one in particular is very, very fat. This one will surely survive winter. It is lazily sunning itself on a large boulder amid what appears to be its own scat, which triggers serious disappointment among the domestic marmots. “Omg you guys, have some pride,” the domesticated marmots excoriate the wild marmots. They stare back like, “Look lady, you got carrots or what?”

Queen Marmota sits top her rock at the top of the world!

More carrots are tossed. The wild marmots strangely ignore the carrots and scurry into their dens, but not before some pretty great pictures are scored. The wild marmots may be officially annoyed at this point, but Marmot 02 is glad Marmot 01 pressed her to continue around the lake.

Grumpy marmot is displeased with our offering of carrots…

Tired but happy, the marmots head back up to the peak from the base of the lake. They make a relaxed descent on the opposite side, catching several bonus sights on their way down—first, a bright orange butterfly landing on a patch of wildflowers just in front of them. As Marmot 02 photographs it, Marmot 01 spots the golden eagle again just overhead: “Look, the eagle!” Marmot 02 cartoonishly flings her camera hand toward the sky and snaps a photo arbitrarily. Much to their amazement, the photo actually captures the eagle in flight.

One-in-a-million overhead shot of Golden Eagle

Further below, a tiny hyperactive frog jumps along a branch. Marmot 01 catches the frog and puts it on a large boulder as Marmot 02 gets photos of it static and mid-leap.

Pond frog in Dana Meadows — teeny-tiny little thing

The marmots make the celebratory drive up to the southern ranger station. It’s not as full-service as the northern station but is has what the marmots need—a stuffed marmot to commemorate their success—successful hike, successful vacation, successful 10th marmiversary. Marmot 01 braves the long line to adopt a stuffed marmot while Marmot 02 finds the butterfly she saw on the Gaylor trail in a guide to local butterflies—it is a variety of fritillary.

On the drive back to the condo, the marmots discuss what they should name their new marmot buddy. They throw out all kinds of names—“Gaylor,” “Sunshine,” “Windy,”—but they finally settle on “Tuolumne,” the name of the meadow near where they adopted her.

Stop at the Tuolumne Meadows Visitors Center to adopt a marmot!

On the way home, the marmots stop by the Mono Lake visitor center. Though it is nicely put together, Marmot 02 tends to feel a little sick and claustrophobic in indoor museums and she is looking forward to getting back outside. But the lake itself, a giant salt lake that hosts goodies such as brine shrimp, also smells foul—and because Marmot 02 is a curmudgeon about things that are unpleasant no matter how geologically wondrous, the marmots take a couple of distant photos but mostly skip out on Mono to head back to the marmot ranch for some chicken pepper sausage and quinoa pasta with pesto.

Mono Lake tufas from afar.

That evening Marmot 01, feeling worn out and like she may be catching a cold, relaxes into the sofa to research on the internet where to find pikas in the Sierras—now that the wild marmots have been found, pikas are the next mammal on the bucket list. She reads a recent article by a research group that claims that pikas have vanished from the Eastern Sierras. If the marmots want to see them, they will probably have to head to Lassen Volcanic Monument. Seems ironic that the ranger stations proudly display pikas on so much of their literature.