Inspired by the prose of a renaissance fairy tail, the once upon a times pertaining to a desert sink existing at the realm of societal and geographical obscurity, the Salton remains a tireless beacon for the victimization of industry and development. As water levels continue to shrink, the hysterical cry of change and injustice resounds through out the state and unfortunately reaches the senate in Sacramento.
The sea was created accidentally between 1905-07 during efforts to irrigate the adjacent Imperial Valley as millions of gallons of Colorado River water flowed onto the low level land. In the process, profitable salt mining operations were destroyed and a body of water saturated with an excessive sodium content remained.
During the 1950’s and 60’s resorts propagated around the 70 miles of shoreline as developers named the Salton Sea experience as the Desert Riviera destination. Boating per capita in the region became one of the highest in the state and the cycle of seasonal tourists remained strong through out the mild winters and dead in the heat of 100 degree plus summer days. A handful of fish species were introduced and angling became abundant. The days and nights of wondrous family holidays in and around the Salton were ingrained in the consciousness of many Californians.
The decrepit concrete buildings baking in the afternoon sun aptly replace any need for skull or cross bone signs warning the swimmer of potential hazards from exposure to the water. If not deterred by the ruins, than the shallows coagulated by the carcasses of thousands of dead fish should aid in the decision making process. As the tea water green from algae and composed of salinity mirroring the Great Salt Lake or the Dead Sea laps wearily against a shore without a tide, the smell is impossible to ignore and the subsequent imagination of solid waste and sewage treatment plants nearly turns the stomach. Then, there is the beach.
To reach the edge of the water one crosses over an array of finely grounded barnacles, fish bones and assorted array of body parts which have become calcified over the last 100 years. Each step rivals the art of walking through a snow drift or over a mass of dry cereal. The ambiguity and bizarre experience is amplified by the shear unknown lay beneath the mass fragmented ivory grave.
As the faint reverberation of a seagull's call overtakes the ceremony of the setting sun over the Santa Jacinto mountain range, the filtered light shining brilliantly off the metal playground of what was an age of innocence, the tears begin to well. The blunders of mankind have once again contributed to a veritable environmental roller coaster ride and 500 miles to the north the buses of Berkeley are outfitted to transport the future progressive on a pilgrimage of witnessing and spiritual growth. Those who played within and around the once pristine waters return yearly with to spawn a fresh batch of young minds, both for personal reflection and a love for the ideals of guilt. In the late September black heat of the evening, the drips from Ben and Jerry's ice cream cones coalesce with the layers of dead marine life and blind idealism is propagated as the Salton is utilized as a representation for all that is wrong with the fundamentals of society. As the sun hides behind the cinnamon hills to the west, the volatile compound of spirituality and bad science is mixed tediously and the emotions of the day culminate in a blind perspective. Though the raw smell of the sea is augmented by a hint of Canadian bud, the young activists are now ready to challenge the world.
Of course the important questions remain lost within the group think tactics and the loose adherence to socialism. Is it government's duty to maintain an environment created by an engineering blunder? The Imperial Valley remains one of the most crucial farming regions in the union. Should the government demand that Imperial Valley farmers reduce irrigation runoff from their land? Though the area that encompasses the sea, known as the Salton sink, historically existed as a natural destination for water including periodic flooding from the Colorado River, should efforts be made to connect the sink with the Gulf of California? If allowed to evaporate, will the exposed sea bed afflicted by dried chemicals become a health hazard?
Suffice to say, experiencing the Salton borders on the surreal and viewing the rundown buildings from the height of seasonal tourism is a trite depressing. However, the reality remains that a large and shallow body of evaporating saline water with no recharging river or stream exists within a desert climate. Are expectations feasible that a palm tree or cactus habitat be maintained near the glaciers of southwest Alaska? Though an engineering folly lead directly to the existence of the sea, it cannot be the expectation of government to take steps to reverse the receding water levels and take preventative measures to hinder tainted runoff from regional farmers.
The Salton has endured a slow death since birth and in the process created a platform for hot button debate in California. As an obvious beacon for the core values of the environmental movement, the justification for the existence of the sea points a finger directly at government. Thus, the taxpayer should endure the task of rehabilitating the impossibilities of a body of water. One does not have to dig very far to realize the injustices shown to the desert environment by the conversationalists. As a man made sea continues to exist, the depths of salt water mar a pristine expanse of desert. Rocks, scorpions, brush and sand remain flooded under cubic volumes of water. Tears are shed over the increased salinity and cyclical fish kills, but where is the progressive sympathy for Edward Abbey’s beloved decrepit topography of the west? Within the narrow confines of environmental doublethink future becomes the present and past becomes the future. We should all take serious measures to increase our fluency in Mandarin.
