King's Canyon

 October 1-2, 2025

Today we headed into Kings Canyon National Park—rolling right past the unmanned entrance kiosk thanks to the government shutdown. There was no ranger, no fee collection, no one asking for camping reservations, and most importantly, no gate. So, we drove right in. 

The park was eerily empty—like we’d scored a VIP pass to nature. Of course, we were slightly annoyed that we’d actually paid for our campsite like responsible citizens when we could have camped for free. But hey, we basically had an entire national park to ourselves, so I should stop complaining. 

We biked downhill to Grant’s Grove to visit the third-largest tree in the world (by volume)—a giant sequoia so massive it made us feel like LEGO people. There was a group of cowboy-boot-wearing farmers there for some kind of all inclusive customer appreciation event for buying massive amounts of fertilizer. We knew they were from the south because they were throwing out "ya-alls" left and right. 

While we were admiring the majestic General Grant tree, one of them casually traipsed right past the barrier meant to protect the third-largest tree in the world. He struck a pose for a photo and proudly declared, “President Trump said I could! And no one’s here to stop me!” Technically, he wasn’t wrong. The park was closed, the rangers were gone, and apparently, the rulebook had gone on vacation too.

After sufficiently admiring General Grant's glory and being entertained by the questionable decision-making of our new cowboy friends, we hopped back on our bikes and started the climb back to camp. 

That’s when we saw it: a sign that read “Panorama Road.” We assumed this led to an epic view and naturally we had to see it. What we didn’t realize was that “Panorama Road” translates to “1,000 feet over 4 miles.” At 6,000 feet elevation, every switchback was a personal crisis for me as I contemplated quitting. But some stubborn part of me needed to prove that I could have ridden the road to Garnet Ghost Town—if only it had been paved. 

When I finally reached the top (without stopping once), I felt triumphant. But I also felt like throwing up. Maybe altitude sickness? Hard to say. But then I saw it—the view. Mountain after mountain fading into blue haze, Lake Hume glimmering in the valley below. Totally worth the suffering. And the best part? The ride down. Four miles of pure gravity-powered joy on a paved road—no pedaling, no regrets. 

The next morning, we drove into the main part of Kings Canyon National Park. Fun fact: the park is split into two sections separated by Sequoia National Park. Honestly, I’m still not sure why the smaller part isn’t just part of Sequoia National Park; it's like King's Canyon had to have its share of Sequoia trees. 

The drive in was spectacular—mountains unfolding like a nature-themed pop-up book, with cliffs, waterfalls, and enough scenic pullouts to derail even the most disciplined itinerary. The road winds down into a dramatic canyon with a river slicing through the middle, and then… it just stops. It's literally called “Road's End.” Points for clarity, I guess.

At Road's End, we hopped on our bikes for a short 7-mile ride along the river on a rocky, dirt road that sometimes felt like pedaling through a smoothie. I wanted to take a picture of George riding up ahead of me through the frangrant pine trees, but self-preservation won out as I was too busy trying not to faceplant into the pine mulch, sand, or rocks.

Kings Canyon is another one of those underrated must-see parks that I had never heard of before. To commemorate our visit, we added a shiny new Kings Canyon sticker to our growing collection on the side of our camper.