Spring break in October at the Desert Springs in Palm Desert

After a 125-mile drive across arid terrain from Los Angeles to Palm Desert, a tropical anomaly rises on the horizon. It’s Desert Springs, the vast JW Marriott resort that defies the local climate and appears instead to be a misplaced slice of the Everglades.

It even has a pond, right out front, populated by pink flamingos. With a body of water seemingly every 5 feet, the giant resort’s contribution to the local humidity surely must be changing the weather here.

It certainly seems to transform the guests, who flock here to shed their cares, frolic in the water and party with friends.

Although half of the Midwest’s small towns can’t match this resort’s population, some magic combination of management and fortitude results in a consistent quality of food, service and atmosphere. After two visits to the 20-year-old resort, one as a conference guest in May and one with my family in early October, I was amazed at how much difference a $35-million renovation can make.

Yet the guest quarters aren’t really the draw. Instead, it’s the opportunity to vacation, wildly at times, at a reasonably priced resort where the recreational distractions are ample and the food options plentiful.

Even after four nights in residence, I’m not sure I’ve adequately experienced all that Desert Springs has to offer. The stats: 884 rooms (rates start at $209 for the rest of this year), two 18-hole golf courses, a driving range, putting green, five pools, four outdoor hot tubs, 20 tennis courts, 17 boutiques, a nightclub, five restaurants and a Starbucks said to be the largest in the Coachella Valley. I can’t even fathom how many conventioneers it takes to fill the 210,000 square feet of meeting space.

The revamped 30,000-square-foot atrium lobby is so big that the 60-foot sushi bar hardly registers against the sprawl of couches, TVs and bar stools. A stairway from the lobby leads to a dock where five six-seater boats ferry passengers through a network of lagoons to several restaurant docks. (Never mind that you can walk faster.)

The resort just got bigger. In July, it opened a spa, with 48 treatment rooms, 165 women’s lockers and separate suites for couples and groups. It’s as busy as the two golf courses, which my golfing pals say are well-kept and offer interesting water and sand hazards. Carts have GPS systems that measure the distance from the cart to the next hole.

I could have used a satellite assist to find my way around: During both stays, I couldn’t quite absorb the slightly labyrinthine layout, particularly in the parking garage.

It helps that the resort reveals itself gradually, beginning with the palm-tree-lined drive. Uniformed valet attendants swiftly helped us unload our bags and directed us to the check-in desk, where attentive staff explained many of the resort’s features.

I asked for an upgrade from our $259 room and got one in the form of an improved view of a pool and the Santa Rosa Mountains beyond.

Despite new décor, the guest rooms didn’t match the sophistication of the lobby. Indistinct edges on the wood furniture make pieces look popped from a mold. Faux wrought-iron mirror frames and ceramic lamps lack heft, and the carpeting in our 420-square-foot room was badly stained.

A family can comfortably tuck its gear into the closet and four-drawer dresser. A big bathroom, done in granite, limestone and marble, included a shower stall and separate bathtub. The rooms smell fresh, perhaps because Marriott has adopted a company-wide ban on indoor smoking.

Sleeping looked inviting. A set of double beds, made up with down duvets, five pillows each, feather beds and high-quality sheets, beckoned. Of course, my sister, Leslie, son, Eli, and I would have liked to have slept, but the raucous boys and their toys next door made it nearly impossible. The guys had hooked up with a party of girls who seemingly knew more about this season’s heel height than a century’s worth of manners.

You’ll get a lot of that kind of behavior here, sorry to say; this resort is spacious enough to allow and even encourage the rowdy. The central pool complex is blasted with lively, cheesy music during the afternoons and kept in cocktails with a poolside bar. The main lobby can be a cruising zone or, during big games, a sports fan’s paradise. Several restaurants, particularly Mikado Japanese Steak House with its knife-juggling chefs, are designed for boisterous crowds and fidgety children.

If you like that kind of high energy and prefer a vacation with gregarious fellow guests, you’ll be happy here.

If you’re seeking some serenity, you can find it, often in the early morning or while the conventioneers are in conference. Outdoor seating for the Starbucks features fire pits, views and silence.

My crew found quiet, fast service and sophisticated food at the Sea Grille, an upscale seafood spot with water views. Had I known about the huge Sunday brunch, a $39.95-per-person extravaganza of pastries, fresh fruit, smoked salmon, individual desserts, made-to-order omelets, a carving station, a raw bar, sushi and much more, I would have forsaken my bran muffin and chosen gluttony.

And if I returned, I would book a spa appointment on a weekday morning, well before the weekend girl groups arrive. The social-spa phenomenon has taken extraordinary hold here, so. expect to see gal pals moving in groups through the locker room and spa, chatting nonstop to one another or on cellphones.

If you can afford it, book the gorgeous couple’s suite or a larger VIP suite with a private lounge, treatment rooms and shower areas. You’ll treasure the privacy. That’s because the main spa is a mess.

Although its 38,000 square feet boast acres of lovely frosted glass, pretty river stones and soothing desert tones, it also has only six spots for women to fix their hair or makeup. The 48 treatment rooms can accommodate 39 massages and nine facials every hour, an amount that consistently overwhelmed the staff at the check-in desk. Dirty towels piled up in the showers and saunas. The adjacent lap pool was too shallow and warm for a serious workout. And if you need reading glasses, you won’t, absent specs, be able to see the electronic panel that controls the four-headed shower set up.

The nearly 30-seat relaxation lounges -- call them conversation pits -- filled to capacity on a late Saturday afternoon. I watched two dozen women head off to their treatments while I was left, six minutes past the hour, to track down my missing therapist. About 10 minutes past the hour, I got a mediocre $140 massage under a scratchy terry-cloth towel. Be warned: Guests are expected to pay before the service and are asked to tip 20%.

Visit the spa without a treatment of $80 or more and you’ll pay $45 for the privilege. That’s in addition to the $20 daily resort fee that, on my recent trip, was automatically assessed. Not even the fine print on the reservation confirmation lists all it includes, such as $11 for self-parking in the hotel lot and other items. The $22 valet parking is extra. Park it yourself and you might walk, as I did, 687 steps to your room.

Still, if I had another chance to return, as conventioneer or tourist, I would, but I would adjust my expectations. It’s not quite a perfect oasis, but if you need a simple sanctuary -- pools, cocktails and lots of food -- this will do just fine.

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