Kerri T.
Yelp
While much has changed in the world since my husband and I first sat down with Scott and Steve in 2007 to discuss the plight of cake in modern day society and the wedding we were then planning at the B&B, I'm happy to report that time has been nothing but generous and kind to this exquisite establishment.
As local residents of Joshua Tree and certified/certifiable Crazy Desert Folk, my husband and I attended a Chamber of Commerce mixer and raffle about a year ago. After imbibing a few cocktails, I sashayed over to the raffle table to survey the proffers and almost choked on a piece of ice when I noticed that one of the prizes was a night at Sacred Sands B&B. Oh, holy night, batman! After successfully wrangling six dollars from my husband's wallet, I clomped back over to the raffle table and dropped the whole wad into the goldfish bowl for Sacred Sands. Now I've never won a raffle in my life, nor (come to think of it) entered one, so I was stunned when my number was called out later that night, and somewhat embarrassed to be the person going home with that "One Night Free" gift certificate in my sweaty little hand. I vowed to give the gift certificate to one of my very good LA friends who had been kind to me over the last year, and then left it at that.
Flash forward a year later. It's been a really tough year for me, personally and professionally; I'm just starting to plan my husband's 41st birthday party; and that LA friend is still making excuses as to why she can't manage to drive beyond the LA city limits, not even for a free night at the swankiest overnight in the Mojave. [ I KNOW, RIGHT? ]
Just call me Indian giver.
Last weekend was GT's 41st and after dozens of our friends and family converged upon us, we escaped up Quail Springs Road to the B&B. We pushed through the gorgeous custom metal entryway (new since our last visit - nice job, guys) and walked the familiar planks. Even though we knew - we remembered firsthand just how magical the place was during our wedding - we still gasped when the door swung open, we still jumped up on that giant "if a bed were a boat" mattress and then collapsed into the raft of pillows, side by side, and giggled like little kids with pockets full of purloined candy. Later, I showered outside and watched the tourists cars wind slowly up the road towards the National Park entrance. If I squinted "just so" I could just barely make out my house, the cars in the driveway, and the barking dog in the yard. The party loomed, and I knew that guests were there, ready and restless. But for that one, long, blissful minute, standing there in the maturing light of the desert sunset, I had no responsibilities or obligations; nowhere to be, in particular, except here.
And it was completely, and utterly magical.
Our out-of-town guests agreed this was one of the most beautiful, comfortable, and perfectly executed overnight stays of their lives, and the four of us were blown away - again and again - by the delectable breakfasts that were served in two courses, al fresco, along with binoculars for spying on the 18 quail babies being herded from shrub to shrub.
Bravo, boys. Bravo.