Where the Giants Live

There are six national parks in California. In July, I led guests to three of them — the three where the giants live.

The largest tree in the world, the General Sherman tree, stands in Sequoia National Park. The third largest, the General Grant tree, stands in Kings Canyon. Sequoia and Kings Canyon are technically two separate national parks, but they share an entrance station — which tells you something about how close together these giants really live.

Fully Escorted, From Albuquerque and Back

Phyllis in Yosemite. — Visiting the Giants!

Sun Tours, the company I primarily work for, is based in Albuquerque. If you’ve read this blog before, you’ve heard me say it: every Sun Tours trip is fully escorted from Albuquerque and back to Albuquerque, no matter where in the world it goes.

Here’s a wrinkle I haven’t written about yet. In 2022, a Tucson-based company called PleasureBent Tours bought Sun Tours. The two companies are still merging, which explains a lot of the growing pains you’ll hear tour directors like me talk about. Right now, both names still exist. Some tours are exclusive to Albuquerque guests under the Sun Tours name, some are exclusive to Tucson guests under PleasureBent, and a lot of tours — like this one, Majestic California National Parks — are open to both.

So this trip started with me meeting my Albuquerque guests at the airport, flying to Phoenix to pick up the Tucson group, and then continuing on to Fresno. Three more guests were arriving from other cities a couple hours behind everyone else, which can be a juggling act — but as a tour director, I’m not the one solving that puzzle. The tour coordinator sorts out who’s arriving when. I just have to know who to watch for.

Four tour guests wearing Sun Tours and Pleasurebent lanyards, sitting together and laughing at the airport gate — Guests waiting at the gate — Albuquerque and Tucson groups about to become one.

Two smiling guests seated together on the airplane, cabin full of fellow travelers behind them — Guests waiting at the gate — Albuquerque and Tucson groups about to become one.

Fresno and the Gardens Underground

We landed in Fresno on a 110°F day — and Fresno, I’m convinced, is one of the hottest places on Earth. Straight from the airport, we went to lunch, and then spent the afternoon at the Forestiere Underground Gardens, which turned out to be ten degrees cooler and one of the highlights of the whole trip.

Charmaign on an airport escalator beneath a large Welcome to Fresno sign with a giant sequoia mural — Welcome to Fresno — hot, and proud of its trees.

I’d stumbled onto a YouTube video about these gardens about a year ago, so I was genuinely thrilled when I saw it on our itinerary. The story: a man named Forestiere came to the U.S. from Sicily around 1900, chasing the same better life every Gold Rush-era immigrant was chasing.

A citrus tree growing through an open skylight in the stone-walled underground courtyard, with a staircase visible through an archway beyond — One of Forestiere’s underground courtyards, citrus tree and all.

He wanted to plant a citrus orchard, the way his family had back home, and bought up more than 100 acres of land to do it.

But Nature had Other Plans.

Then he hit caliche — a hard, rock-like layer just inches under the surface — and realized Fresno’s heat and dryness weren’t going to cooperate with an orchard anyway. So the orchard idea went on the back burner. But he still had the land, and he needed somewhere livable, so he picked up a shovel and dug a room. Twenty-five feet underground, it was pleasant — so he dug another. And another.

… and Kept Digging!

For 40 years he was digging. What’s left today is a five-acre underground complex, still standing, still owned by his family. And that orchard he gave up on? He ended up growing it underground too, with openings cut to the sky, and some of those trees — planted over a century ago — are still producing fruit. I’ll stop there, but it was fascinating. With my architecture background, this place scratched an itch I didn’t know I had.

A small stone-carved underground bedroom with a quilt-covered bed, labeled the Winter Bedroom — Forestiere’s “Winter Bedroom” — built further into the earth, with its own fireplace.

Sue standing in an underground kitchen area beside an antique stove and a vintage icebox stocked with fruit — Forestiere’s “Winter Bedroom” — built further into the earth, with its own fireplace.

Kings Canyon: Deeper Than the Grand Canyon

Day two, we went looking for trees. Kings Canyon, it turns out, is deeper than the Grand Canyon — but unlike the Grand Canyon, it has one steep, narrow, twisty road that takes you all the way down to the bottom.

Two guests posing together inside the hollowed base of a large fallen sequoia trunk — Walking through a fallen giant.

Large tour group posing at the Kings Canyon National Park entrance sign with the motorcoach parked behind them — Walking through a fallen giant.

We saw the General Grant tree, had a lovely picnic at Hume Lake, and spotted a bear near the end of the road. Waterfalls and roadside stops kept everyone entertained the whole way.

A black bear crossing the road in Kings Canyon National Park

I was grateful our coach was only 35 feet — some of the buses navigating that canyon were 45.

The General Grant sequoia tree, known as the Nation's Christmas Tree, towering over the surrounding forest — General Grant — “The Nation’s Christmas Tree.”

A waterfall cascading down a granite rock face surrounded by green foliage in Kings Canyon — General Grant — “The Nation’s Christmas Tree.”

Sequoia and the Big Stump Trail

We stayed in Fresno again that night, then headed into Sequoia the next day — sharing that same entrance gate with Kings Canyon. We drove deep into the grove to see the General Sherman tree on a guided tour and stopped at the Giant Forest Museum, which is genuinely well done, tucked right into the heart of the sequoias.

Families gathered at the base of the General Sherman tree, taking photos beneath its massive trunk — General Sherman, the largest tree in the world by volume.

On our way out, I led an optional two-mile hike on the Big Stump Trail. When sequoias were first discovered, loggers moved in fast and cut down nearly a third of the grove before anyone raised the alarm — and that outcry is part of what sparked the early conservation movement, the thing that eventually stopped loggers from taking every last ancient giant. The saddest part of the story: sequoia wood shatters when the tree falls. All that effort, and the wood was really only good for toothpicks.

Wooden staircase built into the side of the Mark Twain Stump, with guests gathered on top — The steps up the Mark Twain Stump.

A group of tour guests standing together on top of the wide, flat Mark Twain Stump surrounded by forest — The steps up the Mark Twain Stump.

So the Big Stump Trail is exactly what it sounds like — a walk past the stumps those loggers left behind. The most famous is the Mark Twain Stump, which has steps built to the top. We got a group photo up there, of course.

Yosemite: From Giant Trees to Giant Granite

Instead of heading back to Fresno, we climbed toward Yosemite, where days four and five were dedicated to the park. We hiked into Mariposa Grove in the morning to see the famous tunnel tree, then had free time in the village that afternoon. We also stopped at Tunnel View, of course — you can’t skip it.

Guest in a sun hat standing beside blooming purple lupine flowers with a fallen sequoia log in the background — Lupine in bloom along the Mariposa Grove trail.

A large group of tour guests posing in front of the massive root system of the Fallen Monarch sequoia in Mariposa Grove — Lupine in bloom along the Mariposa Grove trail.

Visitors walking through the tunnel carved into the base of a giant sequoia in Mariposa Grove — Walking straight through a living giant.

Sun Tours motorcoach parked at the rocky Wawona Tunnel entrance in Yosemite with guests walking nearby — Our coach at the Wawona Tunnel.

The scenery shifted here, from giant trees to giant granite monoliths.

Half Dome's granite face rising above the forest, framed by oak branches in the foreground — Half Dome, framed by valley oaks.

The Lodge

We spent two nights at the lodge on the valley floor, which meant a full day of exploring without the motorcoach — delightful in theory. Mornings were completely free, afternoons had a two-hour guided tour.

Yosemite Falls cascading down a granite cliff, framed by tall pine trees along a valley footpath — Yosemite Falls from the valley floor.

The one thing that really wore on the group was the lodge itself. It’s historic, but also seriously rustic — it felt dirty and run-down, with no air conditioning in 100-degree heat. Some rooms had patio doors that opened, which the local squirrels took as an open invitation. Every room had a box fan, and two of my guests told me they took theirs apart and cleaned it before they felt comfortable turning it on.

All of that might have been tolerable on its own. But we arrived already late, at 2pm, and our rooms weren’t ready until 6pm. That wrecked the whole afternoon — mine, at least — and I did my best to shield my guests from the chaos of it. To make things worse, the bus had to stop a full quarter mile from the check-in desk. I jogged that quarter mile more times than I’d like to admit that day.

And Then the Last Day Came

Bronze statue of John Muir seated on a rock with a walking stick, displayed beside historical exhibit panels — John Muir, watching over the valley he loved.

The final day’s agenda was simple: get everyone back to the airport and home. It stayed uneventful right up until we hit the outskirts of Fresno, when someone two cars ahead of us stopped short at a light our driver wasn’t expecting.

I was walking the aisle handing out prizes, holding onto seatbacks as I went — proper procedure. But the bus decelerated from 55 to 0 in a short enough distance that I couldn’t hold on through it. I went backwards, caught air, grabbed for seats that weren’t there, slammed the backs of both upper arms into armrests, landed on my shoulder blades, and slid a couple of rows while my guests watched in horror.

I had the wind knocked out of me and came away bruised head to toe. Luckily nothing broke. It’s been almost two months now, and there’s still a little residue left from it. I was also lucky it happened so close to the end of the tour — I got everyone checked in and to their gate, and then I think I finally checked out myself.

The bruises are now gone, even if a couple of sore spots linger.

Bruising on the back of an upper left arm from the sudden bus stop — The damage, a few days after the fact.

Bruising on the back of an upper right arm from the sudden bus stop — The damage, a few days after the fact.

But if you don’t come home with a good time, at least come home with a good story. No complaints here — the guests were lovely, the trip was fascinating, and even the one incident could have gone so much worse in so many ways. I still love this life, and I still love this career.

Phyl's Journey

Follow along on my Journey around the globe (not with IBM)