I was told they were cute. I was told they were shy. And I was told they chose flight over interaction with humans.

Yet there I was 10 years ago literally face-to-face with a marmot.

What’s a marmot?

It’s a super-sized squirrel that populates high areas in the mountains that some say is comparative in size to a large domestic house cat.

I wouldn’t disagree with the assessment except Garfield looks downright anorexic compared to the marmot that was in front of me.

The marmot’s powerful rodent incisors experts say grow continuously were less than a foot from my face. And the incisors looked like they were powerful enough to punch a hole in the top of an oil drum.

So where did I encounter my first marmot?

It was on the last 30 to 40 feet vertical feet of a 100- to 150-foot Class II scramble up to the summit of Mt. Hoffmann at 10,845 feet roughly at the geographic center of Yosemite National Park.

That final distance required the use of both feet and both hand to reach the summit.

I had been advised the approach from the south was relatively easy and relatively disaster free as if I lost my footing it wouldn’t result in a high risk plunge as opposed to the hundreds of feet on other approaches that require technical climbing skills that were way out of my league.

Mt. Hoffmann is a 6-mile round-trip hike from the 8,710-foot elevation of the trailhead off of Tioga Pass Road.

A trail takes you to May Lake that, as far as I’m concerned, is among the most stunning, if not the most stunning, of all lakes in Yosemite.

To reach Mt. Hoffmann that looms in the distance over May Lake, it requires going beyond the end of the maintained trail and eventually across a boulder field until you reach the fun spot.

I reached the base of the vertical section just after a group of three women hikers from Berkeley that were in their late 20s.

One of the three was a little more than apprehensive about the last stretch.

They suggested I go first but I insisted they did.

It had nothing to do with chivalry and more with the fact it would give me a chance to pause after hiking three miles. And to be honest, I wanted to have a face saving escape and retreat if needed as I was a bit apprehensive myself after scanning the vertical section looking for an obvious path to the top.

They started up with the skittish one taking the rear.

After she got perhaps 10 feet or so above me, I started up.

Perhaps 10 feet from the top she froze, telling her friends that had summited that she wasn’t going to go any further.

She then told them she’d wait where she was at until they were ready to come down.

I should have gone back down and waited to start again after they came off the summit.

But I was only 10 feet from the top.

So, I looked for a different route to get around her.

I ended up moving roughly 20 or so feet to the east until I found what were do-able rock outcroppings to continue my scramble to the top.

There was a point where I found a ledge of sorts two feet above my head.

Just as I made my way to the point my chin was just above the edge of the “ledge”, I noticed movement to my left.

In a matter of seconds, the biggest marmot I had ever seen — probably because it was literally in my face — was staring me down.

After a few seconds, it bobbled it’s head up any down giving me an up close look at its incisors.

All I could think was not to do anything to tick off the marmot.

The standoff went in for what seemed like minutes, but it was likely only 30 seconds or so.

I didn’t panic. Not just because that wasn’t a good option, but I realized the reason the marmot was so “friendly” was likely why his squirrel cousins often were at lower elevations in Yosemite.

It was clear that it wanted a handout. And as much as I would have liked to have accommodated him, I was in no position to reach into my backpack to grab a granola bar or trail mix given I needed both hands to steady myself.

The marmot eventually gave up and I made my way to the top.

The summit, for me anyway, was ruined thanks to a park service antenna tower occupying a good share of the space.

There was a nice overall view of Yosemite including Half Dome and Clouds Rest.

But the view I remember vividly is the close up look at the marmot’s incisors that would have made Bugs Bunny jealous.