Chapter 11 – Urban Gems and Natural Wonders
Green River, Utah, to Green River, Wyoming.
We awoke in Green River to a beautiful blue sky with the softest clouds. The past ten days had been a forced march across the country, and the girls were clearly in need of a slowdown. Tensions had run high, and the anticipation of an explosive encounter was genuine. I had pushed through a few difficult discussions in previous days, filled with the empty threats of cutting our grand adventure short. But I had no intention of stopping now. It could turn into a miserable tour across the West, but I had no intention of that either. So, we had a lazy breakfast in the hotel before heading north toward Salt Lake City.
The air was warm, and the view was filled with dusty landscapes dotted with joint-firs and Utah Juniper set before the distant Book Cliffs. We continued up US-6 until just north of Wellington, where we began to climb toward the Wasatch Range. Again, the landscape transformed into a lush forested Alpine summer, with shades of the deepest greens beset against the cerulean sky.
By late morning, we had crossed the Wasatch Range and fell into the beautiful Salt Lake Valley. We picked up I-15 south of Provo and hugged Lake Utah as we ran up the valley toward Salt Lake City. I searched for a nearby Asian Market, and we stopped at the aptly named Asian Market just before eleven. It was of the utmost importance that we took advantage of civilization when we stumbled upon it. We replenished our supplies with fresh vegetables, herbs, and delicious hot and fresh snacks for an early lunch.
We sat and enjoyed our edible delights, and I searched for a place for the girls to do something they had asked for much of the trip—a sleek modern palace of commerce to satiate their hive-like desire to shop. After a bit of Googling, it was clear that City Creek Center was a must-stop on today’s agenda. Combining both sleek and modern shopping avenues with the historic Temple Square at the center of the Mormon world. Rallying the troops with the promise of cash registers and clothing stores, we made our way to the heart of Salt Lake City.
As we exited the interstate, it was instantly clear what our challenge would be. The broad avenues common in cities in the West offered no open parking lots here. This made for beautiful thoroughfares and sweeping views, but the realities of underground parking were prohibitive in our oversized beast-of-a van. I crisscrossed the streets of downtown, circling the center, until I found something promising. Tucked away, slightly obscured, on the south side of the center, I found an entrance to underground parking that listed a height limit that appeared to be acceptable.
I, with a delicate touch, slowly guided the van through the entrance booth and down into the garage. The garage had a drop ceiling just high enough to slide us underneath. Additionally, I thought the flexibility of the drop ceiling may absorb any issue. The reality was that we made it around the garage and found a parking spot with no additional hassle other than my white knuckles from the anticipation of ripping out the ceiling above. After we parked, we exited the van and realized exactly how tight it was. What an incredible fit indeed.
Located across the street from the iconic Temple Square in downtown Salt Lake, City Creek opened to shoppers in 2012. Boasting an impressive list of upscale shops and eateries, the Mall centerpiece is the famous Fountains and simulated creek that flows through the property. Designed to appeal to pedestrians, the Mall features six acres of green space and an award-winning retractable roof to keep shoppers dry on rainy days.
I found a spot in the warm late-morning light and sent the crew scampering to find souvenirs or a warm sweater for the coming mountain weather. For several hours Diem and the girls roamed the massive palace to commerce, while I made a few calls, edited photos, and otherwise relaxed in the warming Utah sun. Here and there they would return with bags of spoils, and as I sat enjoying not driving, I searched for something to do nearby to balance out our Mall visit. Finding exactly what I was looking for, I gathered the troops and we headed for the van.
We drove around downtown briefly, admiring the wide streets and historic downtown architecture, from the Assembly Hall, where the famous Tabernacle Choir performs, to the Union Pacific Depot, which opened in 1908. Downtown Salt Lake City is a beautiful slice of Americana. But from here, we were headed for something more unique and interesting.
We picked up I-80 just west of Temple Square from downtown and marched toward the horizon. Not far outside the city, we exited the interstate and found Frontage Road, which hugs the southern edge of the Great Salt Lake. As we came off of I-80, the view filled with distant salt flats, with a misty body of water on the horizon. Beautiful red mountains floating in the distance. We briefly checked out an Audobon Society bird sanctuary before continuing to today’s most remarkable sight.
In the beehive state of Utah, nestled amidst a landscape that oscillates between the alpine allure of the Uintas and the red rock wonders of Arches, lies an attraction that neither boasts the snow-capped peaks of the former nor the archaic artistry of the latter. Yet, the Great Salt Lake State Park commands a unique charisma, a saline splendor that lures the inquisitive traveler into a briny embrace.
As our white beast rolled into the park, the Great Salt Lake stretched before us, an expanse of water so vast it seemed like an ocean, albeit one that had lost its way and found itself surrounded by mountains and desert. The lake is often called America’s Dead Sea for reasons that became clear as we trooped down to its shores. The water, more brine than broth, is a liquid ledger of geologic time, fed by rivers yet devoid of outlets, its contents concentrated by the merciless evaporation of high-desert sun.
To set foot on the shores of the Great Salt Lake is to walk on the crunchy carpet of its salty beaches, the grains glittering under the sun like a million tiny crystals. A shimmer that suggested we had stumbled upon a pirate’s forgotten treasure. The lake’s high salinity means few organisms can live in its waters. But, those that do, like the brine shrimp and brine fly, paint the lake pink in the shallows and form living clouds as the swarms of flies hover and flow above the water’s surface. All this activity attracts a host of birds. Indeed, this is a Mardi Gras for birdwatchers, where avian life flocks in astonishing diversity. Making the Audobon site we visited earlier, unsurprising.
The park’s marina was a study in contrast. Boats lay anchored, their masts pointing skyward like a forest of white birches in winter, yet the water they floated on defied the very principle of buoyancy with its density. I recalled a line from Bill Bryson about how you could read a newspaper while floating on your back in the Dead Sea and quipped to Diem that perhaps you could write one here.
Diem and I made our way to the water’s edge, and the sterility of the scene was arresting. The tiny shrimp and flies that filled the water and air betrayed a landscape devoid of other creatures—no vegetation, no fish, no algae, only water, shrimp, and flies. Seeing other kids splashing in the salty water, the girls headed straight for the shoreline. Discarding their shoes at the water’s edge, the girls, with palpable resistance, shuffled into the heavy water.
Diem and I stayed back, exploring a little peninsula covered with quite a quantity of Cairns. She walked through the structures, stopping for photos as we kept a watchful eye over the girls in the water below. The mirror-like silvery-blue water, distant red-hued mountains, blue sky, and voluminous titanium white clouds created an incredibly peaceful and beautiful scene.
As everyone found something to entertain themselves, I headed to some flats to closely examine the lake’s unique echo system. Dotted across the beach were random piles of salt, evaporated and collected as traffic on the water created a small tidal-like effect as the man-made waves slowly battered the shoreline. The tiny brine flies zipped and swarmed as they flooded the surface, looking for a mate. The water is filled with pink wriggling brine shrimp and black discarded casings from the fly’s metamorphic state.
Just offshore, I noticed another niche in the local food chain. Just out of the water’s reach exists a world teeming with spiders. With species of Orb Weavers, Funnel Web, and Cob Web Spiders setting traps across rocks, driftwood, and whatever other dry surface they can find. All these spiders and flies attract an impressive collection of bird species. Quite astonishingly, well over 1/3 of all North American Migratory birds pass through the Salt Lake basin on their journey home.
After exploring the park, we went to the visitor’s center for a bit of education. The visitors’ center offered a trove of information. Its exhibits unfurl the history of this peculiar lake. We learned of the Bonneville Flood, a catastrophic deluge that shaped the region, and the lake’s importance to the Native Americans, pioneers, and the settlers who harvested its salt. As we meandered through the displays, the timeframes were impressive, whisking us back through epochs where this body of water was both highway and hindrance, pantry and puzzle.
Yet, the Great Salt Lake’s story is not just one of beauty and wonder. It is also a narrative of concern. Conversations with park rangers and interpretive signs revealed the lake’s declining levels due to prolonged drought and upstream water diversion. The lake, we understood, was a barometer for the region’s health, its plight a whisper of endemic problems across the Southwest. The massive Salt Lake is really a basin, as it has no outlets. Several rivers feed the lake, leaving the sun to bake the salt and mineral-rich waters into massive deposits. With decreasing water inflow due to the drought and increased usage as a water supply, the hypersaline waters concentrate even further, pushing the delicate ecosystem to a salt saturation tipping point.
It could collapse brine shrimp and fly populations. Further decimating bird populations that depend on the Great Salt Lake for a vital food source to tide them over on long migration flights. A massive aquaculture industry has also developed on the lake. Brine shrimp are harvested in colder months producing a hatchable food source for fish farms around the world. A breakdown in the lake’s food chain could also cripple the local economy, as millions of dollars are harvested from the lake each year, supporting thousands of jobs. Clearly, there was far more going on here than we had time to discover today, but we had learned so much. Salt Lake would definitely be on the return list.
As the afternoon faded under the falling sun, we had to bid farewell to the Great Salt Lake. Our curiosity appeased, we turned the van east and barrelled towards Wyoming. Utah was the 12th state we had crossed in the past 11 days. What an incredible accomplishment. We weren’t even halfway through. As the sun began to fade quietly in the west, we crossed into Wyoming in preparation for our next grand adventure. We settled in Green River, a confusing name as it was also where we stayed the night before, 300 miles south. I prepared a simple stir fry in our mobile kitchen, and we settled in for a long spring nap.
We were originally meant to camp here in Green River, but the night had become a casualty in the rush to rearrange the camping nights. So we settled for the Super 8 and piled in. Tomorrow will be Lisa’s birthday, and I have a surprise in store that I hope mesmerizes the entire family. A day that promises to be the most spectacular day of them all. but that, as they say, is a story for another day.
To explore some of the Parks and Monuments we’ve explored and more, click here for the National Park Services.
