The Mojave desert has a way of attracting people who want to build things that shouldn’t exist. You drive out past the main strip of Joshua Tree, past the kitschy crystal shops and the overpriced coffee spots, and you eventually find yourself looking at what looks like a cluster of giant, earthen beehives. This is Bonita Domes in Joshua Tree. It isn’t a hotel in the traditional sense, and it definitely isn’t a tent. It is a massive, tangible experiment in living with the earth rather than on top of it.
Honestly, it’s strange.
Most people come here because they saw a photo on Instagram and thought the smooth, white curves looked "aesthetic." But once you actually step inside a dome built from Superadobe—basically long tubes of earth, sand, and a little cement—the vibe shifts. It’s quiet. Not just "no traffic" quiet, but a heavy, thermal silence that feels like being inside a mountain. Lisa Star, the woman who brought this place to life, didn't just want a cool Airbnb. She was a student of Nader Khalili, the architect who founded CalEarth and basically pioneered the idea that we should be building homes out of the dirt beneath our feet.
The physics of living in dirt
You’ve probably heard people talk about "thermal mass" before, but you don't really get it until it’s 105 degrees in the High Desert and you’re standing inside a dome that feels like it has the AC cranked to 70. It doesn't.
Superadobe is incredible for this. The walls are thick—often over a foot deep—which means the heat of the day takes so long to soak through the earth that by the time it reaches the interior, the sun has already gone down. Then, that stored heat radiates inward during the freezing desert nights. It’s a literal battery for temperature.
Staying at Bonita Domes in Joshua Tree means leaning into this rhythm. There are the "Pod" units, which are small, cozy sleeping quarters that feel a bit like a high-end Hobbit hole. They share a communal kitchen and bathhouse. Then there is the larger Villa, which is more of a proper home. The texture of the walls is the first thing everyone touches. It’s rough but sealed, a constant reminder that you are essentially sleeping inside a sculpture.
Why the "Village" vibe actually works
Privacy is a funny thing out here. While the domes are self-contained, the property is designed as a circular village. There’s a kiva—a sunken fire pit—that serves as the heart of the place.
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If you're the kind of person who wants a sanitized Marriott experience where you never see another soul, you'll hate it.
But if you like the idea of brewing coffee in a communal kitchen while the sun hits the San Bernardino Mountains, it's perfect. The kitchen itself is a marvel of rustic utility. It’s outdoors, or at least open-air enough to feel like it, which means you’re constantly aware of the wind and the light. You'll find yourself talking to other travelers about which trail in the National Park is currently the least crowded or where to find the best date shake in 29 Palms.
The domes are located on about two acres. It’s enough space to feel the vastness of the desert, but close enough to the town of Joshua Tree (about a 5-10 minute drive) that you aren't totally stranded if you forget to buy olive oil.
The reality of the Superadobe lifestyle
Let’s be real for a second: this is still the desert.
There are bugs. There is dust. Sometimes the wind howls so loud against the domes that you’d swear the world is ending, even though the structure doesn't vibrate a millimeter. The Superadobe method is earthquake-resistant and fire-resistant, which is why Khalili originally pitched it to NASA for moon bases. Living in Bonita Domes in Joshua Tree is basically a trial run for lunar colonization, just with better scenery and nearby tacos.
People often ask if it feels cramped.
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The Pods are definitely snug. If you’re claustrophobic, the lack of traditional windows might bother you, though the skylights at the peak of the domes do a lot of heavy lifting. They let you watch the stars from bed. Since Joshua Tree is a Dark Sky community, those little circles of glass provide a better show than any 4K television.
What most people get wrong about staying here
The biggest misconception is that this is "glamping."
It’s not. Glamping is a canvas tent with a faux-fur rug. This is architecture. It’s an "Earthship" adjacent philosophy that requires a different mindset. You have to be okay with low-flow systems and being mindful of your footprint.
The luxury here isn't gold-plated faucets. The luxury is the silence. Because the walls are made of earth, they dampen sound in a way that feels almost supernatural. You don't hear your neighbor's car; you don't even hear the wind unless it's a gale. It’s a sensory deprivation tank that you can live in.
Planning your trip to the domes
If you're looking to book a stay, you need to plan months in advance. These domes are some of the most sought-after stays in the Coachella Valley area.
- Timing: Spring (March-May) and Fall (October-November) are the sweet spots. Summer is brutal, though the domes handle the heat well. Winter nights are bone-chillingly cold, but the domes keep you warm enough to sleep soundly.
- The Gear: Bring a headlamp. The paths between the domes and the bathroom can be dark, and you don't want to stumble over a Mojave Yucca in the middle of the night.
- Food: Shop at the Joshua Tree Certified Farmers' Market on Saturdays before you check in. Getting local honey and bread to eat in that outdoor kitchen is the peak version of this experience.
Beyond the Domes: The Joshua Tree Connection
You can’t talk about Bonita Domes in Joshua Tree without talking about the park itself. The West Entrance is just a short drive away. Most people do the Hidden Valley loop or scramble up Intersection Rock, which are great, but the real magic of staying at the Domes is that you're close enough to the park to do "Golden Hour" runs.
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You go in at 4:30 PM when the crowds are leaving.
The light hits the monzogranite boulders and turns everything a deep, bruised purple. You hike for an hour, then head back to the Domes just as the kiva fire is getting started. It’s a seamless transition from the natural chaos of the park to the intentional geometry of the domes.
Is it worth the price?
You’ll pay more for a night in a dirt dome than you would for a decent hotel in Palm Springs.
Why?
Because you're paying for the realization that a house doesn't have to be a box. You're paying to see what happens when someone takes a radical architectural theory and actually builds it. Lisa Star’s work at the Domes is a tribute to sustainable design that doesn't feel like a sacrifice. It feels like a discovery.
It’s the kind of place that stays with you. Long after you’ve left and gone back to your 90-degree-angle apartment, you’ll find yourself thinking about the curve of the ceiling and the way the air felt at 3:00 AM under a Superadobe roof.
Actionable steps for your desert visit
- Check CalEarth First: If you're interested in the architecture, visit the CalEarth Institute in Hesperia on your way in. It provides the context you need to appreciate how the domes were built.
- Book the Villa for groups: While the Pods are iconic, the Villa offers the full kitchen and living area experience if you're traveling with more than two people.
- Download offline maps: Cell service at the domes is spotty at best. Download the Google Maps area for Joshua Tree and Yucca Valley before you leave the 10 freeway.
- Pack layers: Even if the forecast says it's hot, the desert floor loses heat rapidly. A light puffer jacket is mandatory even in "warm" months.
- Respect the quiet: The domes are built for peace. If you're looking to throw a loud party, this isn't the spot. Keep the volume down and let the desert do the talking.
The draw of the desert has always been its emptiness, but places like this prove that when we do fill that emptiness, we can do it with something that actually belongs there. Staying at the domes isn't just a vacation; it's a reset for your internal clock.