The first time I went to the Salton Sea, an other worldly body of water about 60 miles southeast of Palm Springs, it was 1992 and I was with my ex-wife. We were in our fifth year of marriage and we had established a tradition of heading north from L.A. a little further on each of our wedding anniversaries. This particular year we were broke, so we went south. We may have camped in Anza-Borrego desert. But on this particular night we ended up in the Salton Sea and checked in to a motel with sagging ceilings and a musty bedspread. It was a real horror show. I shut the motel room door and she immediately broke into uncontrollable sobs. I got our money back from the surly front desk clerk and we drove to Palm Springs, spending money we didn't have on a decent room.
But I was hooked on the Salton Sea. It's too salty and polluted to maintain much life. Fish skeletons litter the shoreline, as do crumbling mobile homes and cardboard-like houses, remainders of a time when the area promised to be some sort of desert lakeside resort town. But now it's the land of half-submerged swing sets, rusted out trucks, and one room convenience stores selling dusty trinkets, motor oil and cold drinks. I've never seen a human in the lake. But the surface of the Salton Sea is often glassy, the atmosphere is hazy, and altogether it looks like some kind of social-geological ghost. It's great for taking pictures.
In more recent years, I've explored the lake again a number of times with my daughter, a talented photographer and an amazing travel companion. We both find the decay of the Salton Sea inspiring. It's like the end of the world is just a few hours away from L.A.