I first visited the Spiral Jetty in high school. I convinced my dad to drive the family out to see the land art monument and pink arm of the Great Salt Lake. We packed sack lunches, beach towels, heaping helpings of sunscreen, and swimsuits, but didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into. We ended the day sunburnt, eyes stinging from the salt, and with my younger siblings whining that they were starving. 

The next time I visited, I prepared better, determined to get further into the water than the ankle depth I had ventured before.

Lake foam deposits along the shore, some getting picked up by the wind and carried off in floating bubbly balls. My fiancé and I throw handfuls of the airy, salty substance at each other. Courtesy photo

 Knowing the salt would sting, I brought a jug of fresh water and a washcloth to clean up (at least a little) before making the two-hour drive home. Other items my car contained on the second trip were paddle boards and Decontamination Certification Forms (as is legally required in the state of Utah, even for non-motorized watercraft) for each of our boards, clearly displayed on the dashboard before we entered the water; cash to pay the visitor fee to stop at Golden Spike National Historic Site on the way; and two meals apiece, plus snacks, for my fiancé and I, knowing that the day trip could extend past what we intended (which it did). We had a change of clothes as an important addition, and I opted for a different style of swimsuit this time. 

Planning to be exposed to the sun for longer this time, I wore a long sleeve UPF-rated sun shirt and skort, hat, sunglasses, and hiking sandals (which have not been the same color since their exposure to the salt). The downside to this attire was that a layer of salt would form, solidifying my outfit into crunchy clothes with the texture of a cowboy’s starched jeans, but I chose this over the constant reapplication of sunscreen I would have needed not to scorch my arms in the desert sun, with no shade around to be found.

This part of the journey is uncomfortable, truthfully. Everything you wear, your hair, and every inch of your skin will become crunchy with salt if you enter the water. It will sting, especially if you have any small cuts. It is not nearly comparable to the ocean. 

To be clear, you can launch a paddle board without submerging yourself, but floating in the Great Salt Lake was a bucket list item for us! Swimming in the lake once was also enough for us, so on all trips since, we have stuck to paddle boarding without swimming, managing not to get quite the same level of salt-coated.

I would not recommend bringing your phone near the water. A waterproof phone pouch isn’t guaranteed to prevent your phone from getting full of salt and sand, and a plastic sleeve containing your device will get so sticky and salty that you probably won’t be able to use the device anyway. I have a little waterproof camera that tags along, as opposed to risking sacrificing my cell to the salty inland sea.

We packed as many towels as we could each find. One for drying off immediately, another two for covering car seats as we rode down the long dirt road and back home. Eye drops came in handy (only after washing our hands), and a squeezable water bottle with a nozzle that could squirt a more pressurized stream to blast some more salt off. We each had about a gallon of water for drinking, and another jug to use for rinsing. There are no facilities nearby. (That means stop for a bathroom break at the Golden Spike!)

The first trip, my family went on a whim without scouring the weather app. For Time #2, we planned weeks in advance to pick the best sunny day, making sure it had not recently rained, and looking closely at windspeed and UV index, plus air temperature and cloud conditions. 

We inflated our paddle boards at the car and hiked from the parking area across a few hundred yards of a stinky, sandy shoreline, boards acting like sails as the wind blew us backward with every step. This was where our timeline extended the most. It took about half an hour just to walk to the water, fighting the wind, and each year as the shoreline recedes, this walk gets a little longer. We knew the wind would be an obstacle once we got to the water, too, but had confidence in our paddling skills.

On subsequent trips, we’ve brought our pumps down to the water to inflate there, but felt it was similar either way for effort, and usually prefer to leave as much gear as possible in the car, rather than leaving pumps at the shoreline.

One important thing to make sure you don’t leave at the car is a water bottle. Carry more than enough water with you on the board, because you will dehydrate more easily in the salt and sun.

Launching is easy, since the salinity aids buoyancy, and floating on the lake feels like a dream every time. There’s nothing like looking out at pink water in all directions. It’s a fantastically unique perspective on our beautiful Great Salt Lake, despite the constant battle not to blow too far out, with the wind pushing you ever-further. We gauge how far feels safe to wander, keeping in mind that the same slight breeze that’s just enough to aid us on our paddle out always means colossal effort required coming back in.

Even as experienced paddle boarders, we both ended up paddling in from sitting or laying fully horizontally on our boards that time. Only a desperate situation calls for the latter, because you will get salt in your eyes by bringing your face near water level and paddling surfer-style. We did wear ourselves out on this first paddle-expedition, though, because once again, as we stood, we were sails catching the wind.

I would not recommend paddle boarding here for anyone who is not a strong swimmer, or a strong paddler.

If you visit only to stay along the shore, the scenery is still spectacular, especially at sunset. Waves roll in bringing balls of salty foam on them. Salt crystals in the pink water sparkle in a way that no camera fully captures, even with the heavily saturated edits you’ve likely seen of the famous pink lake. Yes, there are the infamous brine flies, but they don’t bite. If you want to keep them away, one tip I’ve found useful is using a toy dragonfly to deter bugs. I keep a dragonfly clipped to my hat.

We try to be mindful of sunscreen, bug spray, and other products’ ingredients, and follow guidelines for time between application and entering the water to have sensitivity toward the delicate wetland environment around the Great Salt Lake. Traditional chemical sunscreens can harm aquatic ecosystems, so using sunscreens advertised as “reef-safe” or non-nano zinc oxides are safer.

It’s a unique activity. Most people don’t recreate by getting in the Great Salt Lake, but for those interested, we hope you find use from our tips around handling the salt of it all.

If you make the drive to visit the pink lake, do know that you need a vehicle capable of traversing a several-mile dirt road, and that once you start to see that beautiful sunset, there is added risk in driving back down that road after dusk with decreased visibility. Also, note that you will not have cell service there.

Last time my fiancé and I visited, we ended up signing the wedding license of a couple who had driven their camper van from Kansas to elope at the Jetty! It was an eventful day, and I’m personally convinced we also saw the ghost of Jean Baptiste fabled to walk the shores of the lake. There are plenty of quirks to the place.

After getting home, you’ll want to rinse/wipe your board down immediately to prevent damage, following the Mussel Aware mandates for cleaning and drying times between launches. In summer (June–Aug.) dry time is seven days, and in spring and fall (March–May and Sept.–Nov.), it’s 18 days.

Stay safe, stay salty!