The desert throng

It's a strange experience to spend an afternoon in California's Coachella Valley among icons of American culture knowing that across Highway 10 rumbling natural forces threaten to expose at any time the puniness of humankind.

Outside Palm Springs, in Desert Memorial Park, a simple tablet marks the grave of a man whose voice carried through much of the 20th century, "Francis Albert Sinatra 1915-1998" . Placed on it was a small bunch of white carnations, a red rose, three cents and a Palermo brand cigarette. Sober offerings on this occasion because fans have been known to leave miniatures of Jack Daniels to keep Ol' Blue Eyes company.

A few minutes' drive from here and the palm-shaded hotel pools, golf courses, Starbucks, Walmart and Winchell's Donut House you can be in the bleakly beautiful Colorado Desert and contemplating the unseen shifts of the San Andreas Fault. The very name is enough to shudder the soul.

This crack in the Earth's crust and the turbulence it creates has twice brought death and destruction to San Francisco, 500 miles to the north, and nudged City Hall in Los Angeles 10 feet from its original site. Subterranean restlessness is increasing and there are now up to 700 quakes of varying strengths recorded each week in California, many of them around Coachella where Morgan Levine is a naturalist guide with Desert Adventures Inc. She takes customers lurching over sun-scorched rocks and through gullies just wide enough for a Jeep, pointing out the remains of Indian settlements, the Gold Rush dreamlands of the 1800s, the haunts of mountain lions and golden eagles, and the places where 52 varieties of reptile dart and slither.

But it's geology which concentrates Levine's mind – she lost a home to an earthquake in 1986 and next time it could be worse. She showed us a print-out of seismic activity, numerous red squares indicating movement within the last hour. It puts into perspective the state's financial crisis whose impact, like the physical upheavals, is often beneath a ravishing surface.

"The big one is coming," Levine said matter-of-factly. "We don't know where or when or exactly why the tremors are increasing because it's a hard science, but around here you can sense the earth writhing beneath us. This is an incredibly tortured landscape."

You wouldn't know it in the lushness of the cemetery where Sinatra lies not far from Sonny Bono, of Sonny and Cher, and "other interments of interest", as the information leaflet puts it, many of the names associated with Hollywood, two hours away by car.

In the towns which make up the Desert Resorts there is no avoiding political power, wealth and celebrity. Many of the roads are named after presidents or entertainers who have lived and played here, so that Washington and Jefferson Streets cut across Country Club Drive, and Bob Hope intersects with Gerald Ford. There's a blurring too because off Grapefruit Boulevard – a nod to the citrus industry beneath the snowy peaks – it's not clear if Monroe Street is in honour of Marilyn or the fifth president of the United States.

Amid all the glamour and name-dropping – oh, here's Arnold Palmer's Restaurant and appearing to be in better shape than some of Tiger Woods's business interests for the forseeable future – Castleford's famous son has also found a place: five sculptures by Henry Moore in the Palm Springs Art Museum. The answer to how the valley powers many of its human activities is found in the San Gorgonio Pass where Amercans are doing more than is generally perceived to combat the effects of global warming and provide alternatives to the oil they're still extracting not far from downtown Los Angeles and offshore. The pass is one of the windiest places in the world, hence 4,800 turbines up to 300ft high.

You pass them on the way to LA, south of which is Orange County, another of California's good life destinations, which draws those escaping the fraught energy and sprawl of the city. Beside the ocean is a mixture of arty communities and hushed conservatism, shopping malls, piers that look like transplants from the English seaside, and a surfing culture that's easy to imagine being still rooted in the '60s of the Beach Boys. The clich looks much the same: flop-haired guy cruises his Mustang to Huntington Beach – Surf City USA – rides the waves and then it's off to Ruby's Diner for a burger and shake with his golden-haired Californian girl.

Down the coast is Newport Beach which the city's publicity department describes as "like having a permanent passport to paradise", a paradise not everyone recognised at first. A century ago, they couldn't give building lots away after it failed to develop as a sea port. Sheep and cattle became the main residents until sharper visionaries saw the potential for a holiday destination. Then tycoons and Hollywood stars began building their mansions here and today Newport has some of the most valuable real estate on the continent. It looks recession-proof until you take a trip around the crowded harbour, where John Wayne had a home, and spot a banner saying that the elegant hull it's attached to has been repossessed by the bank. Hotels are also feeling the financial chill, which means some reasonable deals in luxury surroundings if you hunt around.

A few still have fortunes to spend, like the billionaire developer who has spared no expense, and without a dollar of debt they say, in turning 500 acres overlooking the sea into a private resort inspired by the great Renaissance architect Andrea Palladio. The idea has been to recreate something of Tuscany, even to the extent of an aqueduct-style archway at the main entrance and importing 750 olive trees.

Some might consider their opulence over-the-top – did my bed really need seven pillows and cushions and so many gadgets and lights that in the dark the illuminated switches resemble the starry heavens? But if you want golf with an ocean view, to swim in the world's largest circular saline pool, to recover from a choice of dining experiences in a spa with 22 treatment rooms offering everything from reflexology to four-handed massages, Pelican Hill is for you, at a price.

It's not been open long but already features in the Leading Hotels of the World guide. And if you happen to be in the United States on June 12 there are worst places to be in front of a telly watching the locals take on England in the World Cup.

FACTFILE

John Woodcock was a guest of The Resort at Pelican Hill, Newport Beach, California www.pelicanhill.com

In the Palm Springs area he was the guest of Hyatt Grand Champions Resort, Villas and Spa, Indian Wells www.grandchampions.hyatt.com

www.palmspringsusa.com

www.visitnewportbeach.com

Desert adventures – www.red-jeep.com

Travel operators such as Trailfinders can tailor packages that include return flights to California, hire car, and a range of accommodation from luxury to motels. www.trailfinders.com 0845 054 1010.