Heaven and Hell: separated by a Purgatory known as Indio

This... this is the Salton Sea.

It is 400 feet below sea level, a prehistoric inland sea that was nothing but a salt pan until 1906. In that year, a levee breach occurred on the Colorado River, refilling this gorgeous inland sea. It took nearly two years to stop the water rushing in, leaving a 'sea' that's 50 miles long and 20 wide.

This was a mecca for fun seekers from the LA basin for decades. Boating and fishing, sunning, drinking, and the surrendering of virginity - Salton Sea is filled with memories for generations of people.

Now, 30 miles from one of the most preposterous displays of wealth, Salton Sea is a treachery beyond description to those generations of memories. Perhaps during other times of the year there are joyous young people frolicking near nakedly in the surf; but I have a feeling if they're frolicking there, they're really poor.












Jail, master, fishing. What do these word hold in common? You triple their value by adding the word 'bait' of course! This is the Bait Shack on the Northshore. Now filled with malt liquor bottles and other signs of sick humanity.






The virginity I mentioned? I'm guessing occasionally lost (perhaps just misplaced) in "Aces and Spades" in the 60's and 70's.

Another 25 miles on down the east shore, past Mecca Beach, we come to Bombay Beach. It is a living, breathing town, consisting of single-wide trailers, double-wide trailers, burned out unidentifiable structures, piles of cars and other modes of transportation, and people of a sort. I was driving a borrowed Lexus and felt like a shit-heel for even pulling in here. But I bought some Fritos and a Coke. I did not, however, stop into "The Ski" bar and food place. It scared me more than I should be scared as a taxpayer free to roam this great country.










This is a home. An operational, people-live-here, home.











This was one of the nicest homes, guarded by none other than Santa.











This was a home too. At some point. The odd thing about Bombay Beach - one of the many odd things - is that every fourth home or so looked like this. Like Katrina had hit it. And no one had ever thought, "I live next to this. I gotta clean this shit up." It was surreal.











This place was on the outskirts. Like he'd been exiled because they didn't like that he had a fighter plane fuel drop tank as a decoration. Not classy enough. Insult to injury? The tank is full of bullet holes.











My favorite thing about the whole place was this sign at the far corner of the settlement.