So the marmot was wondering why we were there...on top of Flattop Mountain in Rocky Mountain National Park referred to by us locals as simply "the park." Well actually Patrick, my neighbor and friend, and I had climbed the trail to explore the landscape before winter closed in with its deep snows. Patrick had been here before and had taken refuge in the rock pile that is home to this marmot. So we had kind of come back for a visit.
Flattop rises about 12,000 feet, 3,000 more than the lakes which lie at its base to the east. The trail up is somewhat steep, rising through the alpine forest and then through the transitional stunted growth of small, wind blasted trees to the world above treeline. This world is an alpine tundra...tundra, a word from the Sami language of the peoples living in the north of Norway, Sweden, Russia. It means "wide, treeless plain" and is found where cold temperatures, wind and short growing seasons limit plant growth.
The morning was bright sunshine...no wind. The silence on top, only the chirping of marmots and pikas, occasional whirl of helicopter blades flying materials into the park on a maintenance project, and our own spoken words. We were partly on a search for the blinds and game runs that the Utes built to capture the game that still wander up to the tundra in summer, following the ripening short grasses. But it started to rain and, then, hail. We strode through two inches of hail on the trail on the long way down...arriving soaked and cold at the car. But, then, that's high country weather in mid-September: some sun, some rain, some hail. The snow not far behind.
