If you're reading this, it's probably only because I alerted you to the fact I actually have a new entry after four months. The absence of anything new has probably dropped the number of semi-regular readers of this blog from about six to zero. So, if you discovered this post on your own, thanks! Also, please excuse the inconsistencies in font size throughout this post; there's some kind of glitch I can't seem to resolve.
My New Year started with a trip to a place about which I've been curious for quite awhile, the Salton Sea. It's one of those places people have heard of, but don't seem to know much about. The few things I'd read about it over the years had intrigued me, so I headed there expecting a kind of strangely beautiful place. The Salton Sea definitely did not disappoint.
Overall, I'd have to say that Salton Sea and its surrounding areas are probably the strangest places I've ever seen. The words desolate, weird, other-worldly and surreal come to mind when trying to describe the place. It's a place of squandered potential, stark beauty, abandoned dreams, desperation, disregard, unlikely survival, life and death. Most people would probably have no interest in a place that time has seemingly forgotten, but I found almost every aspect of the place fascinating. Plus, it was incredible to photograph, and made for a much-needed getaway from normal civilization.
I set out intending to spend a day and half at Salton Sea, and a day and half in the Julian area. But, the Sea's unusual natural environment, as well as its equally unusual communities, kept me there for the better part of three days. Julian ended up being only a meal stop on the way home.
DAY ONE
I headed out for my destination, passing through Palm Springs, Rancho Mirage and La Quinta. While those towns are interesting, it was in Coachella where vast open areas and a lot of farmland began to appear. It was between Coachella and the very small town of Mecca, on the Salton Sea where things started looking unusual- while there was still rich farmland, there were also areas of salt-encrusted earth and signs of desolation appearing. Mecca is basically a truck stop, and a very small, run down community.
After passing through, I made it to the North Shore area of Salton Sea. Run down, isolated and half-abandoned just about covers it. The shoreline at the abandoned motel and North Shore Yacht Club is where I made my first real stop, and it was there where I first saw the Sea up close. Exploring the shoreline and remaining structures was a great introduction to this odd place.
I had never seen such a vast, yet completely still body of water. There wasn't a single vessel in sight, and the glassy surface stretched out to a barely-visible horizon. It was often difficult to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began. Of course, that was no stranger than the bizarre makeup of the shore, with it's salt-encrusted, barnacle-like shells, feathers, dried-up fish, brown and green algae, sand, mud and scattered, corroded debris. It was almost all white from salt and being sun bleached. Then there's the smell. An odd mix of salt, sulfur and decay. The wide variety of birds were about the only signs of life, apart from a handful of other people poking around with cameras in hand.
After about two hours there, the sun set and I searched for a place to spend the night. The truck stop in Mecca fit the bill, and I actually got a very restful night's sleep there in the back of my Element.
Abandoned truck, Coachella
North Shore, Salton Sea
Great conditions for rock skipping
DAY TWO
I headed further south down the eastern shoreline of the Sea, stopping to check out the near-empty campgrounds along the way. I wondered if they ever get anywhere near full. I know they can't in the summer, when temperatures are well over 100ยบ. I eventually came upon the little community of Bombay Beach. Bombay Beach amounts to a forgotten relic of a trailer park, with ramshackle "homes"- old mobile homes, camping trailers from the 50s and 60s that are falling apart, and a few permanent structures. I was amazed to see the place inhabited; besides a few newer-looking off-road toys, it reminded me of the poorest neighborhoods I've seen in Mexico. I believe there is one bar/restaurant there (which I initially thought was abandoned), a mini-mart and a mechanic's shop. I had never seen a neighborhood quite like this one in the US before. And the setting is just so strange; it has dirt berms on three sides of the community, which amount to walls, making the neighborhood feel enclosed. Outside the berms are mud flats, desert shrubs, and the shore. Weird place, to say the least.
After Bombay Beach, I went to the town of Niland, which is a few miles east of the lake. This town would be a near-nothing place (the only gas station burned out) if it weren't for Salvation Mountain. This is an adobe-and-hay "mountain", painted over by artist and Jesus-freak Leonard Knight. It's actually pretty impressive to see what Leonard has done there, and he's happy to give any visitor a personal tour of his work. He lives in a trailer, which has no electricity or water, and paints with donated house paint. His mountain has been declared a national folk art landmark, so there are quite a few visitors to his place. Once there, it's easy to see why they keep coming.
From the top of Salvation Mountain, you can see Slab City, just on the other side of the hill. Bombay Beach held the title of Weirdest Community I've Ever Seen for only about two hours; Slab City is the current title holder, and I think its status will remain unchanged for a very long time. Slab City (named for slabs left over from a WWII marine barracks) sits in the middle of the desert, and is inhabited by squatters living in junked old RVs and trailers, and temporary campers. There is no water or electricity, just barren desert and down-and-out or free-spirited people living in their makeshift, bizarre homesteads. It's really kind of hard to describe; I had never seen anything quite like it. It was a place I wasn't that comfortable exploring alone, as it was hard to gauge how welcome a nosy visitor might be. I'd definitely like to go back and explore it further someday.
Leaving Niland, I thought I might leave Salton Sea and head to the little mountain town of Julian, but I saw the sign for Red Hill Marina, which I heard was an interesting place. It's really off the beaten path, an isolated little campground right on the water used mostly by duck hunters to camp in and launch their boats. It's like a little peninsula, and the campground is divided by a hill. It's also in the middle of a bird sanctuary and some very surreal landscapes, and I wanted to explore the area. Plus, at $7 per night, the price was right. I took photos there till sunset, then left for the town of Brawley to get some real food for dinner. After a nice Mexican meal, I headed back to Red Hill, took a few more photos, and settled into my camp spot. There wasn't a single person on my side of the campground, so I was alone, right on the water, with my car backed up to my little campfire. I really enjoyed my night there; nearly silent, tons of stars, and very peaceful.
First "campsite"- across the street from a truck stop in Mecca
Niland
Folk artist Leonard Knight
Brawley
Road to Red Hill Marina
DAY THREE
I took more photos of the area in the morning, and decided to head out. As I left the campground, a ranger told me about the "mud volcanoes" down the road. This piqued my interest, and it turned out to be the most unusual thing I saw on the entire unusual trip. About a mile inland, in a flat, open area about 50 yards from the road, were about 12 or 13 mounds of mud dried mud, ranging from a foot to about seven feet high. When I stepped out of the car, I heard weird gurgling sounds, and saw steam emanating from the mounds. As I approached, I could see spurts of mud shooting from the tops for the mounds, and bubbling little craters. Like many other things on this trip, I had never seen anything quite like it. It was probably the single most peculiar bit of nature I've seen.
On that note, I finally left Salton Sea for the historic town of Julian in San Diego County. Heading west on highway 78 through Ocotillo, there was a change from arid desert to lush mountain topography, and the air cooled dramatically as the elevation increased. I reached Julian around 4 pm, had an early dinner (including apple-pumpkin pie), poked around a few shops, had some hot apple cider, and headed home. It was a fun, educational and relaxing trip.
Second campsite, Red Hill Marina
Mud volcanoes
Highway 78, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park
The landscape changes as the elevation increases
The historic town of Julian
I have many more photos than I've posted here, so if you'd like to view a more extensive slide show of my trip, click here. Thanks for reading!
My New Year started with a trip to a place about which I've been curious for quite awhile, the Salton Sea. It's one of those places people have heard of, but don't seem to know much about. The few things I'd read about it over the years had intrigued me, so I headed there expecting a kind of strangely beautiful place. The Salton Sea definitely did not disappoint.
Overall, I'd have to say that Salton Sea and its surrounding areas are probably the strangest places I've ever seen. The words desolate, weird, other-worldly and surreal come to mind when trying to describe the place. It's a place of squandered potential, stark beauty, abandoned dreams, desperation, disregard, unlikely survival, life and death. Most people would probably have no interest in a place that time has seemingly forgotten, but I found almost every aspect of the place fascinating. Plus, it was incredible to photograph, and made for a much-needed getaway from normal civilization.
I set out intending to spend a day and half at Salton Sea, and a day and half in the Julian area. But, the Sea's unusual natural environment, as well as its equally unusual communities, kept me there for the better part of three days. Julian ended up being only a meal stop on the way home.
DAY ONE
I headed out for my destination, passing through Palm Springs, Rancho Mirage and La Quinta. While those towns are interesting, it was in Coachella where vast open areas and a lot of farmland began to appear. It was between Coachella and the very small town of Mecca, on the Salton Sea where things started looking unusual- while there was still rich farmland, there were also areas of salt-encrusted earth and signs of desolation appearing. Mecca is basically a truck stop, and a very small, run down community.
After passing through, I made it to the North Shore area of Salton Sea. Run down, isolated and half-abandoned just about covers it. The shoreline at the abandoned motel and North Shore Yacht Club is where I made my first real stop, and it was there where I first saw the Sea up close. Exploring the shoreline and remaining structures was a great introduction to this odd place.
I had never seen such a vast, yet completely still body of water. There wasn't a single vessel in sight, and the glassy surface stretched out to a barely-visible horizon. It was often difficult to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began. Of course, that was no stranger than the bizarre makeup of the shore, with it's salt-encrusted, barnacle-like shells, feathers, dried-up fish, brown and green algae, sand, mud and scattered, corroded debris. It was almost all white from salt and being sun bleached. Then there's the smell. An odd mix of salt, sulfur and decay. The wide variety of birds were about the only signs of life, apart from a handful of other people poking around with cameras in hand.
After about two hours there, the sun set and I searched for a place to spend the night. The truck stop in Mecca fit the bill, and I actually got a very restful night's sleep there in the back of my Element.
Abandoned truck, Coachella
North Shore, Salton Sea
Great conditions for rock skipping
DAY TWO
I headed further south down the eastern shoreline of the Sea, stopping to check out the near-empty campgrounds along the way. I wondered if they ever get anywhere near full. I know they can't in the summer, when temperatures are well over 100ยบ. I eventually came upon the little community of Bombay Beach. Bombay Beach amounts to a forgotten relic of a trailer park, with ramshackle "homes"- old mobile homes, camping trailers from the 50s and 60s that are falling apart, and a few permanent structures. I was amazed to see the place inhabited; besides a few newer-looking off-road toys, it reminded me of the poorest neighborhoods I've seen in Mexico. I believe there is one bar/restaurant there (which I initially thought was abandoned), a mini-mart and a mechanic's shop. I had never seen a neighborhood quite like this one in the US before. And the setting is just so strange; it has dirt berms on three sides of the community, which amount to walls, making the neighborhood feel enclosed. Outside the berms are mud flats, desert shrubs, and the shore. Weird place, to say the least.
After Bombay Beach, I went to the town of Niland, which is a few miles east of the lake. This town would be a near-nothing place (the only gas station burned out) if it weren't for Salvation Mountain. This is an adobe-and-hay "mountain", painted over by artist and Jesus-freak Leonard Knight. It's actually pretty impressive to see what Leonard has done there, and he's happy to give any visitor a personal tour of his work. He lives in a trailer, which has no electricity or water, and paints with donated house paint. His mountain has been declared a national folk art landmark, so there are quite a few visitors to his place. Once there, it's easy to see why they keep coming.
From the top of Salvation Mountain, you can see Slab City, just on the other side of the hill. Bombay Beach held the title of Weirdest Community I've Ever Seen for only about two hours; Slab City is the current title holder, and I think its status will remain unchanged for a very long time. Slab City (named for slabs left over from a WWII marine barracks) sits in the middle of the desert, and is inhabited by squatters living in junked old RVs and trailers, and temporary campers. There is no water or electricity, just barren desert and down-and-out or free-spirited people living in their makeshift, bizarre homesteads. It's really kind of hard to describe; I had never seen anything quite like it. It was a place I wasn't that comfortable exploring alone, as it was hard to gauge how welcome a nosy visitor might be. I'd definitely like to go back and explore it further someday.
Leaving Niland, I thought I might leave Salton Sea and head to the little mountain town of Julian, but I saw the sign for Red Hill Marina, which I heard was an interesting place. It's really off the beaten path, an isolated little campground right on the water used mostly by duck hunters to camp in and launch their boats. It's like a little peninsula, and the campground is divided by a hill. It's also in the middle of a bird sanctuary and some very surreal landscapes, and I wanted to explore the area. Plus, at $7 per night, the price was right. I took photos there till sunset, then left for the town of Brawley to get some real food for dinner. After a nice Mexican meal, I headed back to Red Hill, took a few more photos, and settled into my camp spot. There wasn't a single person on my side of the campground, so I was alone, right on the water, with my car backed up to my little campfire. I really enjoyed my night there; nearly silent, tons of stars, and very peaceful.
First "campsite"- across the street from a truck stop in Mecca
Niland
Folk artist Leonard Knight
Brawley
Road to Red Hill Marina
DAY THREE
I took more photos of the area in the morning, and decided to head out. As I left the campground, a ranger told me about the "mud volcanoes" down the road. This piqued my interest, and it turned out to be the most unusual thing I saw on the entire unusual trip. About a mile inland, in a flat, open area about 50 yards from the road, were about 12 or 13 mounds of mud dried mud, ranging from a foot to about seven feet high. When I stepped out of the car, I heard weird gurgling sounds, and saw steam emanating from the mounds. As I approached, I could see spurts of mud shooting from the tops for the mounds, and bubbling little craters. Like many other things on this trip, I had never seen anything quite like it. It was probably the single most peculiar bit of nature I've seen.
On that note, I finally left Salton Sea for the historic town of Julian in San Diego County. Heading west on highway 78 through Ocotillo, there was a change from arid desert to lush mountain topography, and the air cooled dramatically as the elevation increased. I reached Julian around 4 pm, had an early dinner (including apple-pumpkin pie), poked around a few shops, had some hot apple cider, and headed home. It was a fun, educational and relaxing trip.
Second campsite, Red Hill Marina
Mud volcanoes
Highway 78, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park
The landscape changes as the elevation increases
The historic town of Julian
I have many more photos than I've posted here, so if you'd like to view a more extensive slide show of my trip, click here. Thanks for reading!
2 comments:
I just wanted to say you are an amazing photographer. My husband sent me the link to read and I'm just amazed with your art.
Wow these are some nice pics..you have an interesting imagination..
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