Customize Consent Preferences

We use cookies to help you navigate efficiently and perform certain functions. You will find detailed information about all cookies under each consent category below.

The cookies that are categorized as "Necessary" are stored on your browser as they are essential for enabling the basic functionalities of the site. ... 

Always Active

Necessary cookies are required to enable the basic features of this site, such as providing secure log-in or adjusting your consent preferences. These cookies do not store any personally identifiable data.

No cookies to display.

Functional cookies help perform certain functionalities like sharing the content of the website on social media platforms, collecting feedback, and other third-party features.

No cookies to display.

Analytical cookies are used to understand how visitors interact with the website. These cookies help provide information on metrics such as the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.

No cookies to display.

Performance cookies are used to understand and analyze the key performance indexes of the website which helps in delivering a better user experience for the visitors.

No cookies to display.

Advertisement cookies are used to provide visitors with customized advertisements based on the pages you visited previously and to analyze the effectiveness of the ad campaigns.

No cookies to display.

1.760.852.4580 Contact Us

Cynthia’s Story

Cynthia's Story

One sunny fall day at the turn of the last century, I took a random journey deep into the Mojave Desert. With Las Vegas in my rearview mirror, my road got pretty exciting cresting the Spring Mountains, and even more so when it dropped down onto a middle of nowhere highway on into California.  But when a sharp steep twisting put me high on a ridge dividing Two valleys, I just couldn’t believe my eyes.  Forever mountain ranges in brilliant and hazy desert light made me ache in the strangest way with the sight of it.  Onward, I was surprised by a cool, moist, green corridor on either side of the road, followed by a creepy ramshackle encampment (Tecopa, where I now live).  Then down, down, down into a thick oasis, the terminus of thousands of journeys before me.  I was home in the profoundest sense.  But how to live here, never leave?  Oh, I know.  I will just close my business, sell my home, cut my city connections, and make it work.

I did make it work. But first I had to learn many things from scratch. In that epic personal journey, the desert beat me up, cradled me, challenged me, nurtured me, scared me, and finally empowered me. I know tarantulas are kindly creatures on a mission every October, I know coyotes think I’m ridiculous and entertaining. I know Great Horned Owls have no fear of any living creature, and vultures care only for the dead. I know pack rats will actually steal my jewelry. Billion-year-old rocks have the magic of teaching deep time. The less technology the better. Growing old is as wonderful as being young. The dark night sky is heartbreaking, but I have to watch.  Walking on footpaths made by the ancient feet made me understand I am no different – same problems different epoch. And finally, when people walk on my footpaths, it will be the same.

The desert is where I belong, because it effortlessly touches my ancient self, and when it happens it’s a relief as familiar as it is strange. If you are open, the desert will teach you all manner of amazing things about you, too. If you think you want to immerse yourself in such a place and see what happens, I will do my best to share all the secrets and special places I have discovered in my time here. It is my great joy.

Proceed Booking