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volume of water, flowing with increased strength and velocity as it defined for itself a more distinct channel down the steeper grade of the Basin, began cutting in the soft soil a vertical fall that from the foot of the grade moved swiftly up-stream…a great gorge through which a new-made river flowed quietly to a new-born and ever-growing sea. The roar of the plunging waters, the crashing and booming of the falling masses of earth that were undermined by the roaring torrent were heard miles away.” –Harold Bell Wright, The Winning of Barbara Worth, 1911 History and Facts: If the Salton Sea dried up, Death Valley’s Badwater would no longer hold the record for the lowest point in the United States. Archaeologists theorize that a former inland lake existed in the area and named it Lake Cahuilla after a nearby Indian tribe that now controls a large chunk of Palm Springs real estate. Ancient watermarks on the surrounding mountains suggest that the Sea was over 20 times its present size as recently as the year 1500. The lake may have existed sporadically into the 17th century, and legend dictates that a treasure-laden Spanish galleon floated through these parts before getting embayed and trapped by the whims of the Colorado River delta. (See “Lost Ship of the Desert.”) The deepest part of the mucky bottom lies over 300 feet below sea level. In 1905, heavy rainfall caused the Colorado River to inundate a dike which was built to provide water for the Imperial Valley’s farms and the formerly dry Salton Sink took the brunt for almost two years. When the berms were finally fixed, a 15 by 35 mile artificial lake remained. The town of Salton and a Southern Pacific railroad siding (and some say an entire railroad engine) were completely submerged. In 1944 and ’45, the crew of the Enola Gay made secret flights to the Sea from Wendover Air Base in Utah to practice their aim, adding a few dummy atom bombs to the treasures that await when the water inevitably dries up again. This might take years, as the Salton has become a stopover site for millions of migrating birds, as well as a profitable fishing lake, as long as people (and recently, a pet food company) don’t mind life-threatening levels of selenium in their food. |
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but there are of course bribes to keep things in check. With no Border Patrol agents to stop it, the black river crosses into the U.S., and makes its way though the Imperial Valley, picking up more miraculous molecules on its way. When it finally reaches the Salton, this chemical smoothie feeds massive algae blooms, which periodically choke most of the oxygen out of the water leading to mass die-offs of aquatic life. In fact, much of the shoreline appears to be ringed by pleasant stretches of white sand, until a closer look smashes that illusion: the beach is littered by dead and dying fish and birds, lying on the billions of bleached bones of the less hardy that have preceded them. Thousands of pounds sun-dried fish jerky await the seagulls. The smell is unpleasant but not unbearable (depending on the wind) and gives little hint of the recreational bonanza that was once the Salton Sea. |
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bait shops and liquor stores. A 20-foot high berm surrounds the remaining streets and homes of the dilapidated community and its population of 366 remaining homesteaders. There seem to be far more homes than people. A few children scrape out whatever games and mischief that their imaginations can dream up. Adults have long ago forsaken the outdoors and stay inside with satellite TV and Internet connections, if they have them. The median annual household income as of the 2000 census was about $17,000. Dead towns seem to favor the eastern shore—the four-lane highway from Palm Springs to El Centro runs along the west side of the Sea, and most establishments survive on the increased traffic. Some 16 miles north of Bombay Beach on highway 111 are the remains of the North Shore Beach and Yacht Club. Abandoned in the late 1970s, the facility became a rehab center and then an old folks home before it was finally left to the elements. It’s now used sporadically for location shoots when a rock video calls for the ubiquitous run-down building to be transformed into a rockin’ roadhouse through the simple magic of a pentatonic guitar solo. The windows are boarded up and the soot-encrusted shadow of an elegant stairway crawls up the wall in the lobby. The beachfront swimming pool is fenced off and filled with trash. A covered boat dock rests 10 feet above the waterline, and a playground sits half-buried in fish and bird bones. |
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The Dead Sea The Salton Sea is one of the most mysterious and enigmatic places in California. This baking-hot, below-sea-level region had flooded and evaporated, like a puddle-in-a-parking-lot, thousands of times over the course of millennia. |
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I’ve spent a lot of time exploring the abandoned places along the Sea’s edge, but one of my favorite, seldom-talked-about spots is the Salton Sea Test Base. Opened by the Navy in 1942, the 8,000-acre southwest shore facility served as a training base for PBY Catalina seaplane operations. In 1944, B-29s, including the Enola Gay, secretly flew over 150 missions from Wendover, Nevada, dropping dummies of the atomic bomb at the Test Base as practice for the Hiroshima run. Abandoned in the mid-70s, the SSTB was used for live-fire military training exercises through the ‘80s, completely destroying all of the structures at the facility. Today only the Marines and Navy Seals use the Test Base for training. Surrounded by signs warning of unexploded bombs and almost inaccessible due to encroaching sand dunes burying sections of the access road, the base has always held a fascinating attraction for me. One night I finally slipped over the dunes and into the base just to see what was out there. As I expected, all the base buildings were gone and the long seaplane pier had been bombed down to its pilings. The only structures still evident were the concrete ordinance-storage bunkers. As I rode my mountain bike out of the SSTB late that night, tripod slung over my shoulder, several Apache attack helicopters on maneuver buzzed me repeatedly. No doubt I was leaving an infra-red trail visible in their night scopes. Plainly trespassing on restricted government land, I high-tailed it out of there. –Troy Paiva |
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The fall of the Salton Sea was due to the salinity levels of the lake growing dramatically from local farming. The water table was directly affected. If I'm correct, the Salton Sea was once connected to the ocean. The salinity levels became so high that fish by the millions, as well as birds drinking the water, died. Hence the beach of bones. And I'm talking no sands. I'm talking about walking on a beach of nothing but bones. The smell of the rotting dead bones with a mix of head and shoulders shampoo and hot stale humid area is enough to make anyone puke on contact. The communities that grew around the lake vanished or simply moved to Niland. They were left in abandonment utterly and completely as if a whole community just picked up and moved out. But some people live there still and I guarantee that they will never get dandruff. Further north of the communities is the yacht club, lavishly designed with a Frank Sinatra kind of rat-pack-casino-Mafia look. The road to the yacht club off the highway is laced evenly on both sides with palm trees. The lavish club had all the amenities, an open walk around roof not to mention a lakeside pool and spa. Half under water, there is a small convenience store, not to mention the Texaco gas dock and its ancient sign. Who knows where to boats went? The dock was crushed and lies on the side of what seems to be a breakwater. This is a must for anyone that likes creepy things. The motel is adjacent to the yacht club. It’s two stories high and fully boarded up with yet another empty swimming pool in it with u-shaped boundaries. The motel is a Hitchcock movie just begging for attention. I shot two rolls of film here, and none of the pictures came out.
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