Out of the Fog & Into the Sun: Sequoia National Park , December 1, 2025

    Tule Fog* has hugged California's Central Valley from top to bottom, Redding to Bakersfield, and even seeped into the San Francisco Bay Area, since before Thanksgiving. Low 50s can feel really cold, and low 40s are downright freezing. It has rated news coverage nationwide, even in the New York Times.

Sun at 7,000 feet while Tule Fog (the white in the middle of the picture) blankets the valley.

Tule Fog over the Central Valley in a satellite photo. There are 2 parts to the Valley: Sacramento Valley along Sacramento River to the north & San Joaquin Valley along San Joaquin River to the south.

    At Thanksgiving, when Marilyn's younger son, Stephen, daughter-in-law, Jessie, and big lovable dog, Rio, visited, we ventured out to walk but otherwise snuggled in for conversation and books. 

Rio ready for any turkey that escapes the counter.

    The kids returned home and the fog still here, on December 1, we decided to find the sun in one of our "neighborhood" park: Sequoia National Park. By the time we passed through Three Rivers,  30 minutes from home in the Sierra Nevada Foothills, it was sunny. 

Our "neighborhood" parks. Driving time from home. Sequoia: 1 hr. Kings Canyon: 1.25 hrs. Yosemite: <2 hours. Death Valley: 4 hrs ( 120 mi. as the crow flies).  

Tunnel Rock, once part of Generals Hwy connecting Sequoia & Kings Canyon, is now pedestrian only.

Castle Rocks Massif on a ridge above the Kaweah River. It is said to be granite-climbing at its best, but except for hardcore climbers is more admired than attempted, due to its remoteness & the need to pack in all supplies.

Moro Rock granite dome from Generals Hwy. The top, with spectacular views, is reached via 350+ steps along the edge & across a ridge—with handrails.

    Just before Giant Forest Museum, we made a sharp right onto Crescent Meadow Road. 

We didn't stop at the Auto Log, a Giant Sequoia that fell in 1917.

Doug last drove onto Auto Log in about 2000. When they arrived home that day, son Andrew announced he'd driven on (Auto Log), driven through (Tunnel Log), & walked on (Crescent Meadow) a Giant Sequoia that day. 

Auto Log, Vehicular Use (Public Domain Image, National Parks Gallery).

We did stop for photos at Tunnel Log, a 2,000-year-old Giant Sequoia that fell across Crescent Meadow Rd in 1937.

In 1938, a 17 x 8 foot opening was cut in the log. There is a by-pass for taller vehicles. However, not all taller-vehicle drivers perceive their rig as a taller vehicle & drive it into the top of the opening.

Exiting Tunnel Log.

    We picnicked warmed by the sun among the boulders at Crescent Meadow parking lot. Ensuring everything that appeared to be tasty in the car was out of sight—contrary to some people's sentiments, bears do belong in the park, even in "people" areas—then walked to the Crescent Meadow/High Sierra Trailhead.

Black Bear in Crescent Meadow. All bears in California are Black Bears, even if they are brown. There are no longer any Brown, i.e., Grizzly Bears in California. 

    Once across the wood bridge over Crescent Creek, the trail splits for the Crescent Meadow Loop or the High Sierra Trail. We chose the latter.

    Doug fulfilled a lifelong dream in 2008: backpacking the High Sierra Trail from Crescent Meadow on the West Side of the Sierra Nevadas to Whitney Portal on the East Side, 60 miles—71 including Mt Whitney. Doug was joined by his son, Andrew, then 16, Marilyn's younger son, Stephen, & 5 dear friends. 

High Sierra Trail, Day 1, July 28, 2008: Doug's son Andrew, David Hickey, Jan Bowen, Joel Wheelock, Doug, Marilyn's son Stephen McDaniel, Rob Ojeda, John Sorber.

    Stephen was only able to do the first night, so not needing to pack supplies for 10 days, he brought Tri-tip for the first dinner. In the morning, the other 7 loaded him up with everything they realized they didn't wish to carry another 54 miles, and he hiked the 6 miles back out from Mehrten Creek.

    

High Sierra Trail. Crescent Meadow to Whitney Portal: 60 miles, with Mt Whitney, 71 miles.

High Sierra Trail, Day 10, August 6, 2008, Whitney Portal, after a shower & a real meal: John, David, Joel, Doug, Andrew, Rob, Jan. Perhaps a little the worse for wear, but all smiles.

Our December 1, 2025 hike: Doug & Giant Sequoia siblings. Note burn scar, known as a Cat Eye.

Other trees grow taller, wider, & older, but Giant Sequoias are the world's largest trees by volume. Limbs high up on the trunk can grow as much as 8 feet in diameter.

    The natural habitat of Giant Sequoias is a 260-mile strip at 5,000 to 7,000 feet in elevation on the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, from Placer County in the north to Tulare County in the south. There are 36 Giant Sequoia groves in Sequoia NP. 

Fire is necessary for the Giant Sequoias' small cones to open & release their seeds. 

 Giant Sequoias' thick bark makes them resistant to fire, pests, & disease. Despite this fire resistance, hotter wildfires in the last 10 years have killed thousands of large (4 ft or more in diameter) Giant Sequoias.

The trail gradually steepened from here, with Doug saying, It's just around the bend...

But no matter—Marilyn becomes a mountain goat when the trail begins to climb.

Doug in his element: the Southern Sierra Nevadas. Temperatures were in the mid-40s, but between the sun & climbing, we were soon shedding layers.

Looking out over the San Joaquin Valley's blanket of tule fog. Moro Rock on the right.

On the final stretch to Eagle View we rather wished we'd brought our hiking poles, but we were sure-footed in picking our way carefully.

Marilyn at Eagle View, 6,900 feet, 1 mile from Crescent Meadow, 300-foot elevation gain. Snow-capped Kaweahs beyond.

Marilyn at Eagle View. Moro Rock granite dome & fog-shrouded San Joaquin Valley beyond.

Kaweah Mountains, part of the Great Western Divide.

Ridiculous things: Cell service (well, yes, of course we used it— to check our elevation). Hiking the High Sierra Trail in December. No snow! And...

  

Flowers in bloom...

& Succulents?!?

Castle Rocks from Eagle View.

 Rugged Kaweahs with a dusting of snow. 

Total relaxation.

Pelican Rock.

A last view of the Kaweahs before heading back.

Other than minor amounts here & there, only Crescent Meadow had snow.

Like so many places in the Western US & Canada, wildfires have ravaged Sequoia National Park in recent years. 

Devastation of forests due to wildfires. Wildfire management strategies have varied over the years.

A caveat when driving to Sequoia National Park from the south: the road is replete with curves & hairpin turns.

Sun shining above the Valley fog.

Looking up the Kaweah River, which is dammed to form Lake Kaweah. In good years in spring, we kayak as far up the river as possible meandering through treetops, challenge ourselves in the rapids, & enjoy floating back down.

Horse Creek Campground on Lake Kaweah. It's typically underwater mid-April to mid-July.

Lake Kaweah is currently 16% full, above average for December due to heavy fall rains. 

    With no precipitation since fall, Southern Sierra snowfall for this time of year is only 26% of normal. Snow is essential to fill reservoirs & provide water to agriculture. Tulare County, where we live, is one of the country's major agricultural areas.

Terminus Dam on Kaweah River. California reservoirs are fed by rain & snow melt.

    Nourished by a Sierra Nevada outing, we descended back into the fog. We have seen the sun and even the mountains for a few minutes this week. Possible Valley rain and Sierra snow are predicted for next week and with it the end of the tule fog, at least for now. 

* * *

*Tule Fog: New York Times, "California’s ‘Twilight Zone’ of Endless Fog Is Finally Clearing," Amy Graff, Dec. 17, 2025 [Edited/condensed]    

    For three weeks, David Mas Masumoto, a third-generation peach farmer who is the author of “Epitaph for a Peach” [and other books], in California’s San Joaquin Valley, has worked under a dense fog that has blocked nearly all sunshine. “The fog is good for the life of the tree, but it’s hard for us humans,” he said. “I’m cold all the time.” 

     The gloom that has gripped California’s Central Valley since before Thanksgiving is known as a tule fog, named after a tall native grass that grows in the area’s freshwater marshes. Its size, location and thickness have ebbed daily, expanding and contracting in varying configurations across the 450 miles between Redding and Bakersfield, with fog banks sometimes hugging the valleys and obscuring roads. At times, it has stretched far into wine country in the north, and to the beaches of Los Angeles in the south, making the world outside...feel like the inside of a meat locker.

    Tule fog is common in the Central Valley from November through March....a regional name for what is often called radiation fog...when temperatures dip at night, the Earth’s surface radiates the heat absorbed during the day. If skies are cloudy, the heat becomes trapped, but if they are clear, it rises...allowing the ground to cool off and chill the air near the surface. This...drives condensation and creates clouds — or fog, when it occurs at ground level. [A] long-lasting high pressure system off the coast of California has prevented storms, which would ordinarily move the fog along....The high pressure has also acted as a lid that has trapped the fog at the ground’s surface, [hemmed in by the] Sierra Nevada Mountains to the east and the Coastal Mountains to the west....    

    While afternoon highs in the San Joaquin have been in the 40s for more than three weeks, nearby locations in the Sierra foothills have seen temperatures in the 60s and even the 70s.