I’ve passed by this ‘sea’. I invite you to visit, if you’ve ever wanted to directly experience what southern California might be like post-humans.
A multitude of enterprising resorts quietly decaying in the harsh inland sun. The only sound is that of hot wind gently peeling paint off so many little abandoned liquor stores and gas stations in between.
Nobody swims. The fish don’t live, and the errant fowl take off just as quickly as they land. This time capsule of the 1960s smells like death, and its strangely yellow dust is concerning even if you didn’t know how much fertilizer runoff was dumped in there by surrounding date farms.