Man, I love this site!

What a great question. Somebody through another log on the campfire. . . . Here's my
Having "sampled" the Sierra by living briefly in several locations on the western slope, and having spent even more of my time accessing the backcountry from east side trailheads, I tried for a long time to wrap my senses around the idea of the "whole" Sierra as a point of view. So when a question like this arose, I found that I couldn't zero in on any one place or region. The experience also taught me that my holistic assumption was too grandiose to serve much purpose in describing how I really felt about these mountains. Of course, my most cherished memories are always of specific locales, and that's how I have to approach the question. Each region tugs at me equally and constantly!
After several summers at Scout Camp on the Stanislaus, then frequent fishing and backpacking trips to the upper Mokelumne/Carson drainages with high school chums who were similarly afflicted, like me, with a constant Sierra hankering, and a few visits to Yosemite Valey and Tuolumne Meadows, I had the good fortune to work one summer for Sierra NF. I was based at Shaver Lake, but spent most of the time in Arne Snyder's High Sierra Ranger District, backpacking, horsepacking and driving remote roads in a 4WD. It was my first visit to heaven.
A second summer based in Porterville working for Sequoia NF gave me access to southern Sierra backcountry with multiple 10-day excursions into the Kern Plateau and the Little Kern as well as the Greenhorn Mts and the slopes of the Kaweah drainage. I loved that country, too.
Over the years, I filled in the "gaps" with hiking and xc backpack excursions piecing together segments of the Muir Trail and its laterals. I wouldn't turn down an offer to live in any part of this range.
Today, looking out any window of my house, I'm surrounded by mature second-growth mixed conifer forest. The 3 stately ponderosas that shade the back deck, each about 4 feet d.b.h. and over 100 feet tall, were probably the left overs - - too small to cut when Blair's mill was supplying lumber to the mines, railroads, and gold rush towns around here. There's a huge black oak, too, as well as firs, cedars, madrones, dogwoods, and even a sugar pine within view. The teamsters driving freight wagons to the Comstock were known to camp overnight in what is now by back yard. The American River is just a few minutes away, and the high country just a few more minutes beyond. I can easily get to my favorite east side trailheads, and there's just enough winter snow to keep life interesting. That's where I've ended up, and its just fine by me.
