Thinking of California beaches, what comes to mind (for me, at least) is sun-bronzed asses; swathes of people — movement, food smells; a low rumble of humanity made up of laughter and shouting and faint music and crashing waves. The Venice boardwalk, Newport and Santa Monica , Hermosa. Truthfully, I don't really think any of those things are compelling. So instead, I drove 150 miles into the the desert, in search of a quiet, haunting beach that slowly kills everything around it.
If you've never been to the Salton Sea, the history is pretty interesting.
Dependent on the ebb and flow of rivers shifted by human intervention and geological events, the sea fills and empties on a cycle lasting about 400 years or so. As humans, our memories are short and our ambitions self-centred. So when we accidentally (and then purposefully, trying to undo the mistake) flooded the area and re-created the sea, a resort town began to grow around the edges of the basin. What a magical place! A gigantic, warm lake, created as if by magic — dropped amongst the scrub and the sand dunes so advertisement-perfect 1950s families could come and vacation behind white picket fences and water ski the still, silky blue surface.
The same changeable nature that led to creation of the Salton Sea in the first place led to its downfall. Silt, pollution, and salinity washed in, creating a deathtrap for the fish and local wildlife. As corpses washed up on the edges of the picturesque lake to rot and dry in the sun, the spoiled views and even more spoiled smells drove the revellers away. The sand is hidden under a layer of vertebrae and barnacles which crunch underfoot for a fraction of a second, before the sound seems as though it's sucked away into the mist over the water — as if any sign of life here beyond a few determined, asshole seagulls is simply. not. allowed.
So now, Salton stands alone.
A beach of bones; a fog of death; a silent sea.
All of these photos are my own, taken on my travels all over this pretty blue marble of ours. I hope you like them.