48-Hour in Twentynine Palms

All photography © Paul Martinez

Friday, 3:00 p.m.

Twentynine Palms has long existed as a place you pass through. Thirty minutes beyond Joshua Tree, another stretch of highway before the desert opens again. For many travelers coming from the west, it is a town you never quite reach. But arrive with curiosity rather than momentum, and Twentynine Palms begins to reveal itself.

Check in and unpack slowly. Let the pace drop. Walk the property where you’re staying. Notice how the light moves across land, how shadows lengthen without urgency. This is a town that rewards patience.

4:30 p.m.

For lunch, skip expectations and seek the overlooked. The Rib Co., a roadside institution family-owned since 1997, serves some of the most honest food in town. You can take it to go and eat somewhere quiet, or step inside for a nostalgic meal that feels like eating in someone’s home, popcorn ceilings included. Either way, the food is generous, comforting, and unpretentious.

6:00 p.m.

Spend the afternoon wandering without a checklist. Murals scattered throughout Twentynine Palms tell stories of the Marine Corps, the national monument era, and a place shaped by service, movement, and land. Stop into Corner 62 for records, magazines, and well-curated objects. Continue on to Tin Town, where the Desert General Store offers a thoughtful book selection alongside design-forward shops that reflect the creative pulse of the high desert.

7:30 p.m.

Return to where you’re staying. Sit. Walk. Watch the sky change. Sunsets in Twentynine Palms are unhurried, stretching across the horizon in muted tones. There is no rush to capture them.

8:30 p.m.

As night settles in, drive to Smith’s Ranch Drive-In, a family-owned theater that has been operating for nearly 50 years. Families back their trucks into place. The concession stand glows. Familiar snacks are passed across the counter. Overhead, the sky is deeply dark. The experience feels nostalgic and oddly futuristic at the same time. A living artifact, still very much alive.

Saturday, 8:00 a.m.

Begin the morning at The Jelly Donut. Come for the donuts, stay for the pho. It is unassuming, deeply local, and quietly essential. This is a place where regulars linger and conversations unfold slowly.

9:30 a.m.

Head to 29 Palms Beer Co. for breakfast. The papa con chorizo breakfast burrito stands among the best in the Morongo Basin, hearty enough to fuel a day outdoors.

10:30 a.m.

Enter Joshua Tree National Park through the North Entrance. Choose your pace. Indian Cove offers dramatic scenery. The hike to 49 Palms Oasis rewards effort with shade and water. Or opt for quieter trails near the entrance. Stop by the nearby visitor center for current conditions and context before heading out.

1:30 p.m.

Lunch at the historic 29 Palms Inn, a property whose story is woven into the town’s identity. Walk the oasis on site. Watch birds gather in the shade. The inn feels less like a restaurant and more like a pause in time.

3:00 p.m.

After lunch, stop by Raven’s Books, one of the few remaining small-town used bookstores. Browse slowly. Pick up something unexpected. Then return to your stay and let the afternoon soften. Pool time. Reading. Stillness. The rhythm between town, park, and rest begins to feel natural.

6:30 p.m.

As temperatures cool, gather around a fire pit. Look up. Twentynine Palms offers some of the darkest night skies in the region. There is no spectacle required, only attention.

Sunday, 8:00 a.m.

Wake early. Drink coffee outside. Listen. Morning arrives quietly here, carried by light and wind rather than sound.

9:30 a.m.

Take a final walk through town. Notice details you missed on arrival. How buildings sit with the land. How the pace remains unforced. Twentynine Palms does not announce itself.

11:00 a.m.

Before leaving, take one last drive. This is not a louder place than Joshua Tree. It is quieter. More spacious. More patient. Its history is layered differently, its beauty less immediate, but deeply rewarding.

A Final Note

What might Twentynine Palms have become if the names were reversed? Perhaps that question misses the point. This town does not need to be something else. It simply asks to be experienced with intention.