We’ve seen a fair few National Parks over the last six weeks as we’ve made our way across this ever changing country, and every one has been incredible in their diversity. From the blinding, rolling dunes of White Sands, through the desert wonderland of Joshua Tree to the sweeping majesty of the Grand Canyon. We had one more in our sights for the final part of our trip, nestled high in the forested mountains of the southern Sierra Nevada lie the mystical and ancient forests of Sequoia and King’s Canyon National Park.

Rather than heading straight for Sequoia, we decided to cut the journey up and spend a few nights by the Pacific Ocean first, so we headed for the swanky LA suburb of Malibu. Bam was super excited about this one, because one of her heroes, Barbara Roberts, is from Malibu. For those of you reading this thinking “who the hell is Barbara Roberts” (shame on you) – that is actually Barbie’s real name. 

We stopped off in LA for some lunch, at the awesome Spirit Of Texas craft BBQ. Hunter has recently decided that (like me) he absolutely loves smoked meat. This restaurant allows you to buy whatever weight of each of their carefully smoked meats and sides you want to create your perfect lunch platter. We had an incredible selection of brisket, pulled pork, rib tips, burnt ends and pork belly, with bacon beans and mac’n’cheese on the side. I’ve never seen Hunter eat so much meat in one sitting in his life!

Stuffed to the gills, we hit the road and soon found our RV site overlooking the Ocean on the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu. I was expecting it to be gloriously hot in Malibu. Well, I expected it to be gloriously hot in California in general to be honest. But that was not the case. It wasn’t exactly cold at around 20 degrees, but it was just about the coldest weather we had seen so far on our 6 week trip across the States. In fact, it was a full 10 degrees colder than the weather in England, which was disappointing to say the least.

Ah well, we headed off to the beach anyway to see what all the fuss was about. To be brutally honest, we all thought the beach was a tad underwhelming. It’s definitely not up there with the best beaches we’ve been to, and the water was chilly. AND IT WAS COLDER THAN ENGLAND! It was nice enough, but these beach houses along the beach in Malibu sell for up to 40 million quid. I think I’d rather buy one of the mansions we saw on the Gulf Coast  back in Alabama for about 3 million, and have 37 million change in my back pocket while I sweltered in the 30 degree heat thank you. 

We had a lovely fish supper in Malibu Seafood before making our way home for a good night’s sleep. The following afternoon we caught an Uber into Malibu Village to see if perhaps that end was more worthy of the celebrity status this LA beach community has managed to garner. The shopping village was expectedly pretentious, with overpriced boutiques and “whole food” grocers poised and ready to empty the wallets of fashion conscious, trout-lipped Malibu socialites. Even though Cindy Crawford has a restaurant here, and Robert De Niro’s Nobu is just around the corner, we opted for a more low key lunch in Marmalade cafe before taking a walk down the old town pier. I love a good pier, there is nothing more seasidey than an ice cream and a wander down a Victorian pier. But Malibu has somehow managed to “upscale” this experience as well by having one overpriced restaurant outfit monopolise the options. 20 bucks worth of ice cream and a ten dollar snow cone (TEN DOLLARS WORTH OF ICE – I’m in the wrong game) and we still weren’t allowed to sit on the outside benches, so we had a wander along the beach before heading home. 

There were plenty of surfers taking advantage of the gloriously long, rolling waves of First Point. This is a great coast for surfing, with many beaches and breaks offering up something for every skill level. The beach here was awash with gnarly old surf bums, with leathery weather-beaten faces, and young families playing in the surf. There was definitely a much cooler vibe on the beach front than in the village, but I guess that was to be expected!

It was time to pack up and head north for our final National Park experience in the Sierra Nevada mountains. The first three hours of the drive were fairly uneventful, but the final 25 miles saw us veer off the highway and up through the rolling, golden foothills. We climbed steadily on precarious mountain roads, through various hairpin bends sweeping past sheer certain-death drops as we made the 2500 foot ascent to our RV site in Badger. We were greeted and checked in by what looked like the Woodsman from Little Red Riding Hood. Sporting his checked shirt, manly beard and waist mounted bone handled hunting knife, our host looked every bit the mountain-man part as he lit the evening fire accompanied by his enormous boneyard hound. We sat around the campfire all evening, trading stories with fellow travellers from far and wide, while the kids roasted marshmallows and played with the fire. It felt like the most authentic “actual camping” experience of our trip so far. There’s something about the primitive nature of a campfire which seems to settle and unite people. And the kids didn’t miss their iPads for the entire evening!

Refreshed from a peaceful night’s slumber, and with a morning of home school under our belts, we ventured up the mountain to see the objects of our 8 hour Californian diversion – the giant Sequoia trees. We had another 45 minute drive to reach the Park, climbing a further 4000 feet along the winding mountain roads. The snow had only recently melted in the park, and was still visible in many areas at the sides of the road. 

Our first stop of the day, after we finally reached the park entrance, was Big Stump Grove. This was home to, you guessed it, some really big stumps, including most notably the enormous Mark Twain Stump. This was once upon a time one of the largest trees in the world, but was cut down in 1891 so that a cross sectional slab could be put on display all the way over in New York to prove such gigantic trees actually existed, a fact that was not widely believed at the time.

As the fog rolled in across the mountain tops, we made our way into King’s Canyon to check out the monster trees in General Grant Grove. The main attraction here is the eponymous General Grant itself, towering over us at 267 feet tall. This is the second largest tree in the world, measured by trunk volume. There are all sorts of tree statistics that people use to judge them by. These trees are not the tallest, widest or oldest ones you can find, but if we’re talking about sheer volume of timber contained within them, then these are your boys. They are massive. 

I remember when we visited the ancient Kauri trees in New Zealand being humbled and awe struck at the ancient nature of these behemoths, and I was getting the same feeling here.

Having seen the second biggest, there was only one way to head next… a full 30 miles through the park along the epic General’s Highway lay the real prize, the biggest tree in the world, General Sherman. Why all the General names you’re probably asking? Well, this park was founded not long after the end of the American Civil War, and these trees were named after Generals who played a part in the war.

The weather became progressively more and more moody as we snaked our way along the highway. There were several viewpoints along the way that should, in theory, reward you with incredibly far-reaching views of the canyons and valleys below. The clouds had entirely engulfed us by this point however, and not only could we not see the landscape stretching out below us, it was actually pretty difficult to see more than 50 yards down the road. Whilst it was disappointing to be denied the views, the rolling fog did lend a particularly ethereal feel to the surrounding woodland. Especially in the recently scorched areas of woodland. 2021 saw some significant wildfires in Sequoia, resulting in 88,000 acres of woodland being destroyed. Obviously this is devastating in terms of park management, but as the fog tumbled through the burnt embers of thousands of skeletal trees, the result was nothing short of mesmerising.

Eventually we reached the car park at the General Sherman trail, and the weather was now becoming slightly more troubling. There were distant flashes of lightning beyond the mountain peaks, and the constant, rumbling thunder was accompanied by one or two drops of rain. The path to General Sherman was only around half a mile, but it was all downhill. The descent of 212 feet was inevitably to be followed by a more arduous half mile walk back up, and at an altitude of 7000 feet. Ah well, as long as the rain holds off long enough, it should be fine, right? Famous last words perhaps.

The trail was gorgeous, and at the bottom you are greeted by the imposing figure of the largest tree in the world (by volume of course!). It’s really hard to do these trees justice when taking pictures, they’re just so big. The best way is to take panorama photos from top to bottom, but this inevitably ends up distorting other items in the photo, most noticeably people’s faces and bodies. 

It became a slight running joke that all our panoramic tree selfies squashed our faces and made us look like a family of hobbits from Lord Of The Rings. Hunter was not impressed, so of course I’ve included them here anyway against his wishes, for your viewing pleasure. What a good Dad.

The rain had gone from a few drops to a full blown downpour. We hurriedly checked out the giant tree slab, and cool tunnel cut through a fallen tree before bracing ourselves for the wash-out climb back to the car park. We were mentally prepared for rain, but as the lightning drew ever closer, the rain turned into marble sized hailstones. I actually preferred the hailstones. Yes, they sting a bit more, but you don’t get wet. And the kids found it more fun. 

As fun as the hailstones were, the sheer volume that fell over the next half hour instantly covered the already nail-biting mountain pass with a thick, snow-like layer of slippery ice balls. We now had to drive 30 miles in a 3 ton, 25 foot rolling hotel room with dubious handling, along a sheet of ice while trying to avoid the 1000 foot plummet on every corner. Needless to say, it took a while to make our way back to the park entrance. But the thunderstorm had the added side effect of clearing out the viewpoint slightly, and we actually managed a view or two over the valleys on our return journey. Well, I say we. I jumped out and checked out the view while the girls opted to avoid the cold and wet while enjoying the view from the nice warm van.

We made it back to the campsite in time to see that Hans the lumberjack (not his real name obvs) had lit the fire ready for another round of fireside chit chat and marshmallow roasting. There had not been a drop of rain in Badger, it had been winter on the mountain but we returned to a summers evening by the fire. 

That was it for our final USA National Park experience. There was just enough time in the morning for the kids to enjoy a bit of old fashioned fun on the tyre swing before we headed back down the mountain side and back through those golden foothills towards the ocean once more. We passed by an unfortunately flattened snake on the way down, and I risked pulling over for a closer look while avoiding the many passing gangs of heavily bearded bikers. We hadn’t come across any rattlers during our 6 weeks on the road, and I was hoping this would be it. But nope, my quest for a rattlesnake selfie continues…