Salton Sea: Edge of Oblivion

An adventure to the Salton Sea is a bit unique. There are no trails; no signs; and the horizon before you seems to lead you to a flat and desolate expanse… but you couldn’t be more wrong.  You’re walking to one of the most critical but bizarre ecosystems in California; and it’s on the edge of oblivion.

A former gateway to the Salton Sea, the Red Hill Marina now looks more like an abandoned mobile home park and former quarry than it does a once bustling harbor.  A jetty break no longer protects the shore from water since… well, there is no shore line here.  And a solitary sign “Loading Unloading Only” hints to you that at one time boats were welcome.  As you look over the flat horizon, your mind almost believes the water in the distance could only be a mirage.  To top your already strange welcome to the largest lake in the State,  you should also realize that you are also standing on one of the only active volcanoes in Southern California.

The Salton Buttes are a line of four small volcanoes on the southeastern shore of the Salton Sea.  Scientists estimate they last erupted between 6,500 and 10,000 years ago and studying past events, geologists believe pyroclastic flows, surges and explosive eruptions could occur in the future,” U.S. Geological Survey

As you walk the old sea floor, you can try to imagine how deep the water was when the lake was first formed by mistake (Nature too!). But thanks to the drought, reduction in agricultural diversions (the life blood of the Sea) and some bad water management, this Sea is disappearing.   The Pacific Institute, a nonprofit organization in Oakland,  anticipates that around 2025 the  volume of the lake will decrease by 60 percent; more than 100 square miles of lake bed will be exposed and the water could get more than 3x times saltier.

California is relying on Imperial Irrigation District to make a significant contribution, because it is the largest single diverter of Colorado River water and which is connect to the water level at Lake Meade. But if the district reduces its diversions, that will mean less farm runoff draining into the Salton Sea. This means the sea will shrink, causing a cascade of ecological problems.

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Hiking out here, you also get to experience some of the local wildlife that calls this salty sea home.  From coastal sea birds, to raccoons and even coyotes, the early mornings and late evenings are the best time to experience the Sea. And though much of the fish population is hidden beneath the water surface, you will probably have the chance to see some local Tilapia… though it will not be a fresh as you may like.

 

Fish populations thrive in the Salton Sea. The aquatic ecosystem is extremely productive because of the large amounts of nutrients it receives. The nutrients stimulate growth of phytoplankton and algae, which in turn, support zooplankton and worms. All of this provides a continuing supply of food for fish. Periodically, decomposition of large algal blooms diminishes the dissolved oxygen in the water. This decomposition has been tied to occasional fish die-offs that occur throughout the year.

When you finally get close enough to hear the waves crashing on the beach (yes… its big enough for waves) the ground beneath your feet will start to change and the aromas of the Salton begin to fill your lungs. First, you feel the hard pack dirt and can taste the salty air.  Then, as you reach tilapia death fields (the high water mark of the last fish kill in the area) the trail you forge changes to a softer path – thanks to a high groundwater table keeping the ground cushioned. Then you notice the delicate hints of sulfur as they begin to mix with the sea salty breeze.

After about a 15 minute walk from the arid marina (remember that at one time this was all water) you reach the squishy, bone filled, jet black sulfur mud.

The area around the lake (Salton Sink) is a very active geological area and as you slosh through the sticky mud (shoes not recommended) you begin to open little pockets of sulfur that have been trapped by the viscous goop that is the edge of the Salton Sea. You question if the air ever actually smelled of salt, since the only odor you absorb now is rotten egg, and the sulfur bubbles continually popping between your toes spatter blobs of black goop up to your knee. The rich mud clings to your feet and ankles and you feel the tiny fish bones, laying quietly beneath the mucky abyss, scrape your toes every step you take.

But it seems like if you stood here too long you would be absorbed into the dark rich salty geothermal molasses that is the edge of the Salton Sea… so you dare not stop moving.

As the Sea dies, the thousands of fish here, mostly tilapia, would share the same fate.  If so, the migrating birds that now depend on this 100+ year old rest stop will have little to eat and may too suffer to find refuge. The exposed sand, dust, nutrients (from historic agriculture) and rotting fish, blown by hot desert wind, will create toxic to dust clouds that could engulf Southern California.

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Once you reach the water, everything changes.  The sulfur smell, if there ever was one, is overwhelmed by a breeze that rivals the best ocean air on the planet. Your embattled legs, covered in shells and ‘exfoliated’ beyond what the best spas in the world could do for you thanks to your mud ballet, are now welcomed by both warm and cold pockets of water. The suffocating goop, in what could only be a miracle, slides off into the water as if it was never there. The birds seem ecstatic that you made it to their world, chirping at as they simultaneously fly circles around your head.  As you look back at the path you created, you can realize the journey you just experienced and if you squint really hard, you can even see how amazing the Salton Sea was (and still is).