Honestly, for a place so well-known, you’d think there’d be better signage.

I wasn’t too excited to see the Salt Lake but my mother kept lamenting that she’s never seen it so I had to, for her. Even though she wasn’t there. Mom logic. We saved the Salt Lake for the drive back to the airport and it was getting dark by the time we realized we must have missed it. Mom Guilt prevailed and we turned around. We finally saw a brown sign for the Great Salt Lake and turned off.

It was closed.

We had to park in the parking lot of The Great Saltair, a concert venue that looks like an Indian palace. The Salt Lake lapped the shores in the distance. We started walking as the sun started going down.

The sand was covered in salt and footprints. The highway was close and you could hear the cars rushing past. A factory sat nestled in the mountains directly opposite the lake on the other side of the highway.

On the long walk to the lake, my dad and I argued about if that horrible smell was from the factory or the lake. He was convinced it was the factory but I know it was the lake. It smelled like brine and day old fish. And it seemed to get stronger the closer we got to the lake.

The lake itself was pretty but so are a lot of lakes. My dad tasted the water because he’s an idiot and he said it was less salty than the Bonneville Salt Flats.

For something so famous, I was a little disappointed. We were rushed, though, and I didn’t do any research on the place. I guess I thought I wouldn’t have to. It was the Grand Canyon all over again. Maybe we did it wrong.