Up and gone from Barstow, California on the way to Visalia, where we catch road 245 north that will take us into Kings Canyon National Park. Before that, we must drive the 99 that cuts a path through nondescript farmland and the suburbs of farming communities. Haze blankets the view of the Sierra Nevadas on one side and the coastal range to the west. Outside of Visalia, we start our climb through the rolling hills and enter the mountains. Our enthusiasm for what lies ahead starts to mount. The morning sun is still low in the sky and there are a hundred great photos to be had along this twisting, narrow road – just not many an opportunity to pull over. Where there is a pullout, we stop, look, and listen. It’s quiet save for the birds, nearly no traffic on this route, but the beautiful landscape distractions make for slow going.

Addition: It’s January 2023, and in the process of creating an index of our travels, I recognized that over the years, some blog posts weren’t connecting to the uploaded photos and instead were using some kind of cached image. This has required me to reupload dozens of day’s worth of photos spread out over some years. In some cases, I see images I should have uploaded or, at least, some I want to upload now. The images that are reuploaded are also being adjusted as in my view, I think I’m able to do a better job using Lightroom. There’s one other image I’m adding below that I’ll also mark as an addition. As for the subject matter, we are at the Kings Canyon Lodge and Gas Station located just outside the national park that no longer exists due to a fire that destroyed it.

Addition: Another photo that I felt offered greater context about where we are; I suppose there are more, but adding another dozen images is not in the cards today.

Sure, it’s only minutes before nine as we are passing the welcome sign to this rarity – a National Park we haven’t visited yet, but there are another thirty miles to the end of the road, which is also today’s destination. Our first hike is at Zumwalt Meadow. Wow, nearly three hours to drive thirty miles, almost a new record for our ability to crawl a road. I’m certain we have gone slower in Yellowstone. On the way, we stop to gaze from half a dozen overlooks, we stop some more at riversides to watch and listen to the roar of the wild white water crashing through the mountains, and then, even more, stopping to check out a waterfall. Finally, we arrived at Zumwalt Meadow. Hey, look at this amazing little footbridge taking us over the South Fork of the Kings River. We have left Phoenix behind.

The meadow trail is a short mile and a half, but that won’t stop us from turning it into a ten-mile all-day hike. How does one turn a mile and a half into ten miles? Slowly. You amble, smell, observe, linger, dawdle, dilly dally, take photos, eat, drink, meet people on the trail, stop to talk with them about their bear encounter the day before, and then you mosey along. Before you know it, hours pass where you could have hiked miles, but instead, you are barely halfway down the trail. This pace is fine by us, though, as who knows when we might return. Kings Canyon is barely open half the year due to heavy snow, and it has taken us years to return to this area; we will soak in every detail our brief time in the park allows.

Living in a desert primes one for loving meadow, coast, green, and shade more than anyone else could possibly appreciate these sights for sore, dry eyes. We bask and stare in disbelief that greenery, wildflowers, and vibrant chlorophyll-laden life still exist on Earth in abundance. Wait a second, was that a bear? Oh, it was just a butterfly. At the front gate, you are warned of bears; at parking areas, you are told to hide food if you must leave it in your car; at camping areas, there are bear-proof boxes for your edibles, and we’ll pass more than one couple toting a bear-proof canister of their food atop their backpacks as they trek into the backcountry. Maybe we’re cynical, but there is an element of disbelief that we would actually see a bear; this is like those roadside signs warning of animal crossings; it just doesn’t work for us.

You can be certain I shot many a photo between the trailhead and this Steller’s Jay, over 135 actually but just how many can I post here with my brief recounting of our day? And for your info, Caroline and I have come to recognize that a good amount of time must pass between the taking of a photo and the appreciating of a photo. You see, after we return from a glorious place, our mind’s eye can still see a clear and detailed view of the beauty we witnessed on our vacation; the photos we took are weak approximations that barely scratch at the majesty a great place can behold. Even choosing the few photos that will accompany these blog entries is labored over as only rarely do we find a photo that really speaks to us.

Roaring River Falls is just up the road from the meadow and is our next stop. It is also the stop for a dozen hams. Self-anointed models are important only to themselves; they jump in the view of anyone in their way and apparently feel that throwing themselves into various contorted poses and postures will complement the waterfall behind them. These more easily accessible roadside features attract all the wrong people. The wanton, loud, rude, and obnoxious flock out of cars, moving herdlike with great fanfare to announce that the stupid have arrived and are here to destroy any ambiance we tree huggers might think was here just for our appreciation. Lucky us, we can outwait those rubes because we have something special called patience – well, I actually only have very little of that patience stuff, but I try. Five minutes pass, and they are bored and quickly gone; it is all ours for a few minutes before the other dancing dorks of delirium drift back to the ruination of the natural order of peace and harmony.

Hmmm, no waterfalls here, so everyone just walks by like it was Swiss cheese. So, the attraction has to have its own sign to have significance. No sign, no interest. This reminds me of the Eddy Izzard skit, where the conquering invader doesn’t find a flag, and so obviously, the land belongs to no one. Plant the flag and claim this ungoverned land as your own; the flag does all the work. I’d nearly bet that if there were a sign where Caroline is sitting that said a rocky mountain, a white water river, and trees were before your eyes at this point, there would be twenty-five people vying for a place on the stage in order for them to best model themselves for that special trophy photo. We just sit here listening, watching, mesmerized by the scene.

It’s not late yet, but we have to get back to Grant Grove Village. We’ll have to check into our cabin and get some dinner because, as you can guess by now, here comes the Junior Ranger part of the story. There is a requirement to attend a ranger-led program to qualify for a Kings Canyon / Sequoia National Park Junior Ranger badge, and we have chosen the Camp Fire talk with John Muir at 8:30. As we walk into our cabin, we both look at each other and begin to ask, are those holes to the outside in the walls? We can’t believe it and walk up for a closer inspection, sure enough, there are gaps in the planks that make our cabin walls. This being the Fourth of July weekend, everyone must be barbecuing because the dining room is almost all ours.

We were done so quickly that we still had time to spend before Park Ranger Frank Helling traded in his persona to become John Muir for an hour and a half. Up the mountain to Panoramic Point, jeez, this road is narrow. At the top of the mountain, we walked the short distance to look out over Hume Lake, the forest, and some really tall mountains, catching the late afternoon glow of the setting sun. Other cars are pulling up and so before the crowd arrives, we decide we’ve seen enough, and the campfire talk will be starting soon. I guess the short walk was too much because as we arrived at the car, no one else had passed us, and no other cars were parked there. On that narrow little mountain road, the sun bursts through the trees, and around one corner, the trees look like they are on fire; who cares if we are late? We must grab a photo of this.

The John Muir presentation was AMAZING. Ranger Helling is a natural fit for presenting John Muir; we were both entertained and educated about this man responsible for much of the preservation of Yosemite, the Sequoias, and the beginning of the Sierra Club.