

The Ochre Room
Canyon-facingA plastered room the colour of the canyon it faces, with an arched window wide enough to lose an afternoon in. Wakes gold, holds the heat, cools to indigo.

A high-desert retreat, forty miles past the last town
Eleven rooms cut into a canyon that has stayed dark and silent for a very long time. You are welcome to do the same.
The canyon was here for six million years before the first wall went up. We tried to build something that would apologise for the interruption.
Eleven rooms, one long table, a pool cut into the roof. Rammed earth the colour of the cliffs, so that from a mile out you would struggle to say where the land ends and the rooms begin. No screens in the common rooms. No music you did not bring yourself.
Every room faces the canyon or a courtyard of its own. Hover to see where each one leads.


A plastered room the colour of the canyon it faces, with an arched window wide enough to lose an afternoon in. Wakes gold, holds the heat, cools to indigo.


A sunken lounge around a low fire, a walled courtyard, a plunge pool that no one else can see. Made for the guests who came here to disappear for a while.
Nothing scheduled. Everything available.

One seating, one fire, one menu that changes with what the high desert gives up that week. Dinner runs until the last story does.

An infinity edge that gives out onto forty miles of nothing. Best an hour before sundown, when the water turns the same colour as the sky.

A domed room, a single shaft of light, heated stone underfoot. Salt, steam, and an hour where the only thing asked of you is to lie still.
A handful of times a year we close the gate and hand Solstice to one gathering. A wedding, a company off-site, a reunion of people who owe each other a long weekend.

A few frames. The rest we save for when you arrive.






A few things worth knowing. For anything else, a real person answers within a day.
Ready when you are.
No deposit to enquire. We hold rooms for two days while you decide.
We're a two-hour drive from the nearest regional airport, the last forty minutes on graded desert road. Send us your flights and we'll arrange the transfer — a single vehicle, met at arrivals, water and cold towels waiting.
October through April, when the days run warm and the nights turn cold enough for a fire. High summer is fierce and beautiful and half-price, if you know what you're walking into.
The main house is adults-only after seven. Dune House and the two garden suites welcome families, and we keep a short list of guides who are wonderful with older children.
We take a handful each year and only ever one at a time — the whole property, yours for three nights. The long table seats forty; the terrace holds a hundred under the stars.