When I think of the Sierra Nevada, I see marmots, 13,000-foot mountain passes, and waterfalls. I smell the sweet evergreen perfume only nature can produce. I hear the crunch of the dirt beneath my feet (sometimes snow), and the sound of rock and shale tumbling down a slope. I also remember the many days and nights I have spent on the 220-mile-long John Muir Trail. Both literal and figurative ups and downs resulted in waves of sadness, …
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