A Mountain Guy - and a Curmudgeon?!

As I've written on previous occasions, one of the ways that folks can be classified, at least in my opinion, is as "coastal people" or as "mountain people." Some people find solace in the pounding surf and the infinite vistas that the seacoast provides; others, like me, are restored by spending time in the mountains. Our recent trip through the northwest of North America provided both - we spent several nights near the coast of Northern California and central Oregon; several more nights where the Bitterroot and Saphire ranges come together in western Montana. And our trip home - through central and southern Idaho, and most of the breadth of Nevada's basin-and-range country and over the Sierra crest - provided more time in the mountains. Our travels confirmed that I'm a mountain guy - and my reaction to the ever-increasing numbers of people in these mountains as we traveled west confirmed that I am, increasingly, a curmudgeon!

Since our oldest daughter, Lara, has been at college at Montana State University in Bozeman, I've had the opportunity to explore a little bit of the northern Rockies. I've driven through the Cascades, passed the Rubies, and through the Blues and Wallowas. I've hunted in the northern Coast Range. But most of my mountain time has been in the Sierra Nevada - mostly between Sonora Pass and Sierra Valley. I've been in these mountains in every season - from spring snowmelt and summer camping to autumn fishing and winter snow sports. I won't claim to know all of the moods or special places in these mountains - but I'm working on it!

Each time I've visited mountains in less populous regions, I'm struck by how crowded the Sierra Nevada have become. We camped in the Bitterroot Valley over the Independence Day weekend - and there were vacant campsites. We floated the Salmon River - and saw only a handful of other boaters. But as we approached Reno from the east - and as we crossed Donner Pass on our way home - the traffic grew progressively worse.

I've spent at least one night somewhere on Sonora Pass most of the years I've been alive. During the last several trips, I've been saddened by the amount of trash I've found along the Stanislaus River. On summer weekends, I've found it increasingly difficult to enjoy the solitude I love in the mountains near my home. I'm finding that I want (and need) to go deeper into the Sierra to be alone.

As we crested Donner Summit and headed down the interstate towards our foothill home, I was struck by the differences between the northern Rockies and the Sierra Nevada. I've loved most of the mountains I've visited; none more than my native Sierra. But the mountains of my childhood and youth are now within a day's drive for almost 30 million people. And while I don't begrudge others the opportunity to enjoy the mountains I love, I miss being alone in the Sierra. I suppose that makes me a bit of a curmudgeon!