What started out as a Delightful Distraction turned into a nightmare. Why are there no warning signs about the Salton Sea sinkholes? It could save a life or two. Like ours!
We visited the west shore and southern tip of the Salton Sea a few years ago. Walking the shores of the sea, we marveled at the fact the “sand” is really millions of crushed fish bones. So, a few years later, we stopped by the north shore. However, we did not anticipate the danger that lay before us. Salton Sea sinkholes! There were no warning signs.
Some history of the sea
The Salton Sea itself is a fiasco. For centuries, the Colorado River periodically emptied into a body of water known as Lake Cahuilla on the northern reaches of the Gulf of California. The Salton Sea was formed in the middle of a desert from 1905 to 1907 when the Colorado River burst through irrigation barriers, flooding the Salton Sink. The then freshwater desert oasis was a tourist resort hot spot for many years until its ruin began.
The demise of the Sea
Citing from the Theme Park Insider:
…in the 1970s, a series of tropical storms caused the lake to flood, severely damaging lakefront communities. This damage slowed tourism significantly, and before the area could be fully rebuilt, the Salton Sea’s water source diminished. At the same time, toxic agricultural runoff had been consistently flowing into the Salton Sea from nearby farms. The lake became increasingly concentrated with salt and agricultural chemicals as its water evaporated in the brutal desert sun with no source of replenishment. Fish washed up dead on the shore in masses. A rotten-egg stench clung to the air and grew stronger each year. Tourists stopped coming, and the once glittering resort towns of the Salton Sea were abandoned.
The Salton Sea Sinkholes
After taking several “grunge” photos of nearby ruins, we approached the waterfront to photograph birds close to shore. We treaded an unbeaten path to the “sand,” which is really crushed fished bones. The ground got increasingly moist, but that did not stop us. Suddenly, I sank about a foot – and quickly pulled out. Shortly thereafter, Circe sank about 2 feet into this muck. Actually, the muck was the consistency and suction feel of quicksand. Impulsively heading to go save her, she wisely shouted, “Don’t! You’ll get stuck too. See if you can get that piece of flat wood for me.” Turning, I took a couple of steps and sunk about 12 inches myself. At that point, I remarked, “Well, buddy, we’re pretty well f***ed.” Of course, our cameras are sweeping through the slimy, stinky mud, too.
Getting out of the Sinkholes
Pulling my feet out, the suction caused my shoes to stayed stuck in the “mud.” Not concerned about leaving my shoes behind, I slid on my butt to firmer ground. My rear-end and back of the legs were stinging from that dirty fishbone icky water and crud.
Meanwhile, Circe was still stuck and trying to figure out what to do as to not sink further. I was laughing and shaking like a leaf at the same time. “Whose great idea was this?” I asked, “Mine, I think,” Circe replied. I suggested Circe get her phone and call 911. However, she wasn’t sure moving around to get her phone out of her back pocket was a good idea. I kept yelling at her to get on her butt and slide back like I did. However, she was in a more sticky and deep area of muck than I was. Consequently, she stayed stationary fearing her butt, followed by the rest of her body, might sink further. Luckily, a big stick lay nearby. Circe reached for it and hoisted herself on her knees. Safe at last. She had one shoe that remained stuck deep in the hole. Because of the suction, it considerable effort for her to pull it out. Finally, however, she succeeded, despite my protests to just leave the damn shoe behind!
The happy ending
After all that, we headed for the car.“Don’t you want to try to get your shoes?” Circe asked. Wanting us to get the heck out of there, I told her I didn’t care about my shoes at all. Careful to avoid the broken glass, I continued to walk socking-foot back to the car. Circe following close behind. At the car, we rinsed our stinging hands and arms with a jug of water. I took my pants off and rode home wrapped in a blanket in my wet underwear. In addition, I rolled my t-shirt to my chest to avoid getting my seats soiled. Fortunately, it wasn’t too long of a drive back to the hotel. The hotel staff eyed us suspiciously as I dashed by in socks and wrapped in a blanket followed by Circe covered from the knees down in that thick stinky mud.
Once we were safely and snugly back in our hotel room we cracked some jokes and made the best of it. Once we cleaned up our cameras we grabbed a non-alcoholic beer, some popcorn and fired up our laptops to download our pictures. Above all, we are glad we lived to tell our harrowing tale. Our experience is captured in the video below.
Inclusion, we still wonder, “Where are the signs?”
