TRAVEL

The Saltair Resort

A Trip to the Moon

Vicki Price
Pollinate Magazine

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We have passed Salt Lake City and are driving the shoreline on the Lake heading for Great Salt Basin. Joe and I agree if there was a lake on the moon it would look just like this. Bare lifeless mountains rising, scattered across the water. The lake was painted pink and apricot by the setting sun. The Captain of the sailboat wears a spacesuit instead of a speedo here. We are on the moon after all.

We drive by the Saltair Resort and I think of Grandma Stegen. She was a teacher and a traveler. When summer vacation came she hopped a bus or train and traveled until the school bell called her back home. She spent a great deal of time in Salt Lake City and she went to the Saltair Resort to “swim” many times. The salt in the water making her buoyant allowed her to do what she had never done, swim.

Grandma sent me a hand-painted postcard of the beautiful Mosque-like resort. Its golden minarets reflecting the desert sun. The pier that runs out into the lake. Stapled to this card was a small bag of salt. Salt from the lake. I loved that postcard.

Now, the resort is abandoned. The minarets, no longer gold, are unable to reflect the sun. The boardwalk pier leads out only to sand since the lake has retreated beyond its reach. A few cars are parked there, folks enjoying the view. Joe spins a tale of these folks. They have driven out here from the City to smoke a little pot and watch the sunset on this moon-like lake. He informs me they are all, of course, wearing their spacesuits.

I looked at my postcard of the Saltaire, the Arabian Palace on the aquamarine lake. I dreamt of effortlessly floating in the water. My skin softened by the minerals just like Grandma told me. One day the small bag of salt broke free from the painted picture postcard. Now it was just a bag of salt, enough to flavor only one meal. I could no longer prove it was the magic salt that turned everyone into a swimmer, a fish, or a dolphin. The salt leaked from a small tear in the bag. I put it to my lips and was disappointed. It did not taste like the lake and I could not swim.

© Vicki Price 2021

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Vicki Price
Pollinate Magazine

I am a full time guitar playing song writer. Working with my husband Joe we have spent our lives traveling across the nation playing our brand of country blues.