Shamen and lay lines...and the odd margarita

Karen believes that if you've never seen a black sky full of a million, million stars from the warmth of the desert, and watched shooting stars flaunt themselves briefly in the night air - you haven't lived.

Admitedly, ten years on from Karen's last visit, things have changed a bit - a few more people, and the shooting stars are joined by a number of winking flights to 29 Palm Springs airport from LA. But this is place is high on Karen's list of favourite places on earth, and in essence, hasn't changed a bit. The food is still fabulous, the people are still so relaxed you think they might be liquid, the place is still spookily chilled, you can lose the will to live waiting for the toast to brown in the pathetic toaster and the water pressure is still dire.

From this temple of chilledness, we ventured into the Mohave Desert and the Joshua Tree National Park. A different kind of desert, Joshua Tree is haunted by stumpy, spikey trees which give the ark its name. In many respects, Joshua Tree can appear to have slipped down the ratings of awe - it's slightly less barren, slightly less impressive in the height of its ranges, slightly less huge than Monument Valley or Death Valley.... but nontheless, it's worth several second glances. Joshua Tree National Park

Warning...

Reason for warning - vicious things!
Karen looking chilled

In the centre of the desert, only Fiona would be able to find a farmers' market - but find it she did, in Joshua Tree, where a host of innocent looking, drawling Californians were looking to part us from our money. And they did, to a certain extent. But common sense, restricted luggage space and the US customs authorities prevented us. Like they would have prevented us adopting a kitten, Little Guy, a tabby with a PhD in cuteness.

Back to the 29 Palms Inn and a little swim before dinner. We could get used to this...