Deadland
The Salton Sea has been calling to me for years. My friend Joe Nichols had taught elementary school down there and had described the strange, hot, brutal countryside.
Even though Joe was long gone (he moved to the East Coast before he died) I wanted to visit to see where he had lived and to see the Sea. I didn’t want to go during the hot part of the year, and the hot part lasts about 9 months per year, so I kept missing my window, year after year.
Some background: the Salton Sea is California’s largest lake, and it is dying. Created by mistake, it was doomed from almost the beginning. An extreme rate of evaporation combined with industrial agriculture on its shores have left the formerly great lake a saline, shrinking, toxic pond.
The shores of the lake are dotted by failed housing developments (“Lots $4995” read signs), closed businesses and graffitied-over abandoned homes. The roads are so cracked and buckled by extreme heat and neglect that there are moguls, and driving Gladis felt like riding a particularly high-strung dolphin.
And yet the lake is beautiful, rimmed in the distance by desert mountains. The winter clouds pour across the lake in dramatic bands creating ripples of light and shadow. At sunrise and sunset, the mountains are aflame with reds, orange and pinks right up until the point where darkness falls.
People still hang on here. They have to. For some, this was where their single-wide vacation mobile home was, and they ran out of other options. They build structures over the roofs of their metal homes to try to survive the long summers.
Other people are farm workers, braving temperatures of up to 120 degrees to bring us food year-round.
These are the people whose children and grandchildren Joe served as a teacher. He didn’t start teaching until he was in his 40s. He admitted that there were many nights where he laid on the floor drinking ice water, drained from facing the challenges of being a beginning teacher in a blistering climate.
“But the kids are so great,” he said. “I feel like I have to stay here for them.”
I thought of Joe as I drove around and slept on the shores of the Salton Sea. The wind blew hard and the air was tinged with something sharp and metallic. I had never been somewhere so strangely beautiful. I can’t stop thinking about it.
Joe is gone and soon the lake will be gone, too. I wonder who will teach the children then.
This was on the shore of the lake. Now it is about half a mile away because the lake has shrunk.
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Suebob's Red Stapler 
One of those places at the top of my bucket list! It looks so amazing…
One of those places at the top of my bucket list! It looks so amazing…
It really is. The light is magical.
Captivating story. If only the winds could tell more of the past. Makes me feel like a perfect place to go and fall of the grid. I wish it went on longer. Thanks.
Thank you. My post on Salvation in the Desert talks about Slab City, where you really CAN fall off the grid. A lot of people do.
Truely magical😉
Thank you.
Beautiful
Thank you!
Beautiful tragedy. Thank you for sharing.
wow.cool!
I love your vivid descriptions of this place. Your pictures are beautiful!
Thank you so much! I love to travel and explore.
This is the first time I hear about it, great information and nicely described😊
Thank you. The world is full of wonder.
Love the shots of the blue sky, the air must be really clean. I really like the mobile vacation home decorated with graffiti .
Ironically, the air is not clean. The soil is contaminated and the strong winds kick up dust, so many people in the area experience asthma and other breathing problems. But the desert light makes the sky so beautiful.
Nice article, From World Eye Watch
Thank you! I appreciate the compliment.
I like picture
Loved it!
thank you