The Great Salt Lake is on either side of us as we drive into the island. Our campsite is directly on the water, but the beach is about a half mile wide with chalky, cracked sand. It looks like we’re on the moon. There are no amenities here, and as we step out we are confounded by the lack of noise. Only a few songbirds call here and there, and the occasional bark of coyotes up in the mountains.

We have the place basically to ourselves. We hike out past our site, trying our best to avoid the scratchy, prickly brush surrounding the beach. The Great Salt Lake is seven times saltier than the ocean, and is 75 miles long and 35 miles wide. As I walk I’m disturbed to notice dozens of bird skeletons, only adding to the obscure nature of this place.

This kind of quiet serenity is exactly what we are looking for.

We decided to hike a four mile trail along the water, watching little lizards zip from under our step and hopping over the giant piles of buffalo poo that were scattered about like land mines. Did I mention there are 700 buffalo on the island? I think that’s why they have strict dog leash laws . . .

That night, while making our rounds around the campground, we met a local named Tom. He was excited to hear about our trip, and spread all his maps and books on the picnic table with a headlamp. He outlined where to stay (for cheap) and what to do around Utah. We told him that he was a part of our plan—to chat with locals rather than researching online. He said if he was us, he would trek down to Moab rather than Zion, being that there is Arches National Park, Dead Horse Point, the Colorado River, etc. He drew us a route, complete with step by step instructions. We were elated.

Day 2:

Today we are heading out  to a 133 year old homestead on the other side of the island. Not long after we left camp we saw them—a herd of about a hundred buffalo dotting the beach. Apparently the older bachelors keep to themselves, while the heard is mostly mommas and babies. We saw a loner lounging about on the side of the road. He looked so handsome; reminding me of the movie Beasts of the Southern Wild; perhaps because they share the same sad, intelligent eyes.

We toured the homestead, furnished with the original furniture, tools and clothing, as well as an old covered wagon. Mikey suggested we could, in fact, live in it. “What else do you need?” he said. Ah, Mikey.

 

Tomorrow—Moab.