I have a distinct mental image of "The Sierra"—and this isn't it. My Sierra is heavy on Owens Valley and fourteeners, with lots of dry, dusty, austere granite brooding high above sun-baked desert. I'm generally aware of other, wetter parts, such as Yosemite, but like the beach some two miles from my house I tend to forget it exists unless it's right in front of me.
As much as I've explored the range, the truth is I hardly know it, which is kind of wonderful. It allows me to randomly drive up a road to 'see what's up there' and walk 0.5 miles up a trail to a bench with my kids and suddenly be gobsmacked by a view like this: Little Lakes Valley, just past the Mosquito Flat parking area.
I've been collecting Harrison maps, and the more I get, the more I find blank spaces where I have no idea what I'll find there. Huge, vast stretches just waiting to challenge and expand my understanding of the range. I'm really starting to relate to Muir's famous quote: The Mountains are calling, and I must go.
Yes, yes, yes!