Spiral Jetty

Robert Smithson was a leading figure in Land Art, a movement of the late 1960s and 1970s in which artists left the gallery to make monumental works directly in the landscape itself. He chose Rozel Point for its blood-red water, its salt-encrusted shore, and its history of failed industry, and in 1970 he built the Spiral Jetty from local black basalt, choosing the spiral form for its echoes of galaxies, whirlpools, and the crystalline structure of salt.

Smithson died young in a plane crash in 1973 while surveying another earthwork, and the Spiral Jetty became his most celebrated creation. For decades afterward it lay hidden beneath the risen lake, resurfacing only when the water dropped, which lent it an almost mythic reputation. Today it is cared for as a gift to the public, an artwork you can visit freely, on its own remote terms, in the landscape that inspired it.

The rose and pink hues of the water around the jetty are not a trick of the light but the work of living things. This arm of the Great Salt Lake is cut off from freshwater inflow and grows extremely salty, far saltier than the ocean, and only a few hardy organisms can survive it: salt-loving microbes and algae that tint the water pink and red, along with tiny brine shrimp. The color shifts with salinity, season, and light.

As lake water evaporates it leaves salt behind, and over the years white crystals have grown thickly over the black basalt of the jetty, encrusting the rocks like frost or coral. Walking the spiral you cross from dark stone to glittering white and back, with the pink water on either side. It is a place where art, chemistry, and biology all meet, and the sculpture keeps changing as the lake works on it year after year.

Long before it drew artists and pilgrims, the Great Salt Lake and its shores were part of the homeland of the Northwestern Shoshone and other Native peoples, who lived around the lake and its wetlands and retain ties to this country today. The north shore is a harsh, marginal place, and the traces of human effort here, an old oil-drilling attempt, scattered abandoned equipment near the point, speak to how hard people have tried, and mostly failed, to make it pay.

That history of thwarted industry was part of what drew Smithson to the site. The rusting remains near Rozel Point, the emptiness, and the sense of a place at the edge of the usable world all fed the meaning of the work. Today the surrounding land remains wild and quiet, home to pronghorn and coyote, patrolled by hawks, and utterly silent but for the wind off the lake.

Reaching Spiral Jetty takes commitment. It is a long drive, much of it on graded dirt roads with no gas, water, or services along the way, so the essentials are a full tank, plenty of water and food, and a check of road conditions before setting out. Rain can make the final stretch slick, and there is no cell coverage, so tell someone your plan. It is best treated as a full day's outing, not a casual detour.

When you arrive, remember it is both an artwork and a fragile shore. Walk gently on the spiral, take only photographs, and leave the salt crystals and basalt exactly as you find them. Whether you catch it dry and white or half-drowned in pink water, standing at the center of the coil with the lake stretching to the mountains is a quietly unforgettable experience, well worth the long road in.

The closest Boutel™ stays, so you can turn this stop into an overnight. Each is an independently owned, editorially selected place to stay.