At the top of Rock of Ages Pass, a furry marmot scurried forth from a jumble of rocks, his nose twitching hungrily. I sat down between him and my pack, in case the rodent tried any funny business. Their craving for salt, even in the form of dried human sweat, was legendary. To further dissuade him, I lobbed several stones inches away from his head, but the creature didnít even flinch. He simply waddled closer and stood up on his hind legs like an obese prairie dog.