Saltair, Utah ~ 23 February 2011

The gate was shut and the sign said that it was closed for the season but the beach was open. I believe that the "season" has now extended for years. The building paid tribute to the original structure but is only a shadow of the original.  I was at Saltair, a somewhat forgotten venue just off of I-80 between Salt Lake and Tooele on the shores of the Great Salt Lake.  I was here today to take some time for myself and think.

As I walked down the entrance to the gravel parking lot, I pulled my backpack on to both shoulders, it contained the things that I like to take with me, my camera, a notebook, pens and the usually odd and ends.  I wasn’t relishing the thought of having to wear it that way because it was usually just slung over one shoulder long enough to get from my apartment to the car.  At that point it surprised me how well it fit against my back, like a well conditioned baseball mitt fits on your hand.  At that moment I was transported to another world.  I was on another adventure.  I was there to get the story, with my faithful backpack in tow.  When I realized what I was feeling, it caught me so off guard that I had to laugh.  It was so real.  I decided to embrace my inner photographer/writer/historian/ conservationist/ adventurer.  I guess it was telling me that it had been ignored long enough. 

Wondering around I could see in my mind what this place could have been like during its hay day and collecting ideas for my “project”.  Making my way around to the shore line, I pictured the people that would have flocked here to enjoy the lake during the summers.  Now you wonder who has stolen the water, for almost as far as you can see it is just empty sand.  I stood looking down at the edge of what would be the beach then out across the emptiness then back down again.  Should I do it, should I take that first step?   I decide to do it.  I can always use another adventure.  I thought that I could tell where the water began but I wasn’t sure and decided that I could always turn around if it ended up being too far.  I took the first tentative step out onto where the lake should have been and a few more unsure steps.  Granted the most moisture that this area had seen for a while were passing storms, I was expecting to get stuck in a messy situation (thanks to a friend’s description of the lake bed).  The sand turned out to be firm and easy to walk on.

It wasn’t too bad of a walk.  There were plenty of photo ops to keep me entertained and leading me further out searching for more subjects.  

 This included changes in the surface of the sand,

 evidence of those that had made this venture before me and those that have made this home.

It was cold but what else would you expect in mid-February.  The sun was nice and bright and it was over cast just enough to give me some great lighting. And with the lake being so low it didn’t really have a true shore it was more like it just ran out of depth.  This created some unique effects along the edge of the water.

After soaking up the sun, wind and water and completely relishing the calm and serenity in the middle of the lake,

I headed back and discovered

 Herman.

Talk about a fish out of water.  I found him about half way between the water and the shore.  I had even taken a picture of him on the way out, thinking that it was some interesting piece of something stuck in the sand.  Luckily I decided to check him out closer on my way back, and was able to get this great shot.

The perfect ending to an unexpected adventure of self discovery.