Bombay beach and beyond

There’s something unsettling about watching the American dream curdle under a relentless desert sun. Head southeast from Palm Springs and things quickly begin to unravel. The manicured golf greens fade to dust, cell service disappears and the air starts to taste like something died in it. And maybe it did.

I have arrived at Bombay Beach, a ghost town situated at the Salton Sea. Think Mad Max with fewer rules and worse plumbing.

Once a booming town in the 1950s, this was the site of a tragic ecological disaster in the 1970s. The draining and increasing salinity of the Salton Sea destroyed the lake’s ecosystem and the population fled to greener pastures. Today there are only about 300 permanent residents in this post-apocalyptic town.

Post-Apocalypse Now.

As soon as I park the car and start walking along the Salton Sea, my nostrils are filled with the horrible odor of rotten fish. My boots make a crunching sound wherever I go, stepping upon fragile fish bones. The former beachfront is today a collection of derelict debris.

Derelict machinery.

I drive along the deserted streets where the abandoned houses felt like lifeless husks, covered with rust and graffiti. But sometimes I actually see a living human, proving that there is still life here.

No tourists. No Starbucks. Just the faint hum of solar panels, the occasional drone of a generator and the quiet realization that this sun-bleached purgatory is still somebody’s idea of freedom.

A pier to nowhere.

Out here, the American narrative hits a speed bump. This isn’t Route 66 nostalgia or Palm Springs mid-century gloss. It’s what’s left after the dream evaporates and all that remains is salt, dust and stubborn souls clinging to their last bad idea.