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We hiked across an open meadow and over another stretch of lava rock on our last full day in the national forest. Around one, we set up camp, had lunch, and left our things behind for a short hike to a viewpoint. There, volcanic ridges covered in green pines stretched away in front of us, leading to three different mountain peaks from the ones we’ve seen at other points on the trek. It’s a mountain lover’s paradise out here.
But as soon as we returned to camp, evidence it had been ransacked while we were out greeted us. A scrap of blue fabric. A piece of red canvas. Lots and lots of scat.
“This is new.” Mitchell tugs gently at the ground-level hole in Lila’s tent. A six-inch tear has been chewed into it, and I think I can guess the guilty culprit.
Marmots. I’ve seen their work before. I’m not superstitious, but maybe it was bad luck to tell that particular story.
“We haven’t had anything like this happen out here.” Deena holds the piece of blue fabric.
I’ve memorized the shirt it came from.
Lila’s face is as pale as it was when she caught the fish. “Do you think it’s still in there?”
“Nah. There’s an exit hole on this side.” Scott’s on the opposite end of her tent, looking at the damage like it’s all part of the fun.
“There’s one over here, too,” Cindy adds from the back wall.
“Maybe there was more than one.”
“More than one would explain all the poop.”
Lila swats the side of the tent, watching the nearest rip in the fabric as though she expects several marmots to run out squealing. Nothing happens. She crouches to unzip the door, holding the zipper between her thumb and forefinger like it might bite. When she finally kneels inside, a sad little sound of dismay fills the air.
“My shirt…my extra socks…my leggings…”
“Did she keep any food in there?” Mitchell asks me.
“I don’t think so.” My thoughts head straight for the granola bar wrapper. I have no idea if she ever put it in one of the odor-proof bags. Judging by her wrecked tent, I have a sinking feeling she didn’t.
Lila stands, shaking her head as though the scene is too unbelievable to accept. She puts her face in her hands, and her shoulders shudder. It’s an unfortunate way to end her first hiking trip, but I hate to see her like this.
I move closer and slip a hand onto her back. I trace over her skin as though I can smooth out her sobs. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s just stuff. It can all be replaced. The important thing is, you’re safe.”
Not that marmots would have attacked her, but I can think of about a hundred ways this trip could have ended worse for her.
She pulls her fingers away from her eyes. Tears shine there, but…she’s laughing?
“I’m cursed, aren’t I?”
Her giggles make my heart lighter, easing away some of the guilt. “I wouldn’t saycursed.”
No better explanation comes to mind, though.
“I’m not meant to be a camper. Or a backpacker. Or a lake swimmer.” She swats at the tears rolling down her cheeks, but she keeps on laughing. “I’m just a girl who likes to stay inside my cozy home and sip drinks while I read books. I want to move from one temperature-controlled room to another. I’m just not outdoorsy. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not.”
Her wry expression gets lost in a fit of giggles. “There’s so much poop in there. More than I think a marmot even weighs.”
“They’re magical creatures.”
That sends her into another round of laughter.
“Let’s air out your sleeping bag.” Deena stoops to pull it from the tent, shaking marmot scat as she goes. Mitchell does the same with the sleeping mat.
As the tent flap flutters behind them, I catch a glimpse of Lila’s clothes strewn around the floor. That marmot must have taste-tested everything in its effort to get to the wrapper.
“I checked the other tents,” Shannon says. “No sign of any damage.”
