This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2016, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
What if the Great Salt Lake isn't so great any more? Then life in Utah isn't so great, either.
The scientists who monitor the lake say the lake's North Arm has hit a historic low of 4,191.6 feet, so low that the arm is now cut off by a railroad causeway from the rest of the lake, which could also hit the historic low point set in 1963 if we have another dry winter.
Because the lake is so shallow, these changes in depth mean the lake only covers about a third the surface area it did at its recent high-water point in 1988. The famed Spiral Jetty, considered one of the most important land art works ever made, isn't even a jetty these days. It sits high and dry as the North Arm shrinks.
The lake is an economic engine, generating an estimated $1.3 billion annually from mineral extraction, brine shrimping and other activities. But it is its far-reaching effects on life in Utah that are the real benefits.
Because it doesn't freeze, passing storms can draw strength from it, dumping "lake-effect" snow in the mountains and valleys. The high salt content keeps it from freezing, which allows the sun to warm the shallow waters, even in winter. When storm clouds pass, the lake helps lift and destabilize the clouds so they dump snow when they hit the first mountain range, the Wasatch.
Because of the shallowness, losing even a foot of water translates to huge portions of land becoming exposed. And it's land that has nothing growing on it to hold soil down, so dust rises in the never-ending wind, presenting further challenges to our air quality.
Because of its size and location, it is considered one of the most important migratory bird habitats in North America. The health of the lake affects species across the Western Hemisphere.
It's easy to be underwhelmed by the nation's largest body of water outside the Great Lakes. Known the world over, the lake draws tourists whose quick visits end with noses wrinkled from the stink. Around most of the lake, nothing taller than salt grass will grow, and the slimy, fly-ridden bathtub ring at the edge of the lake fails to charm. (To be sure, the lake has its fans, including birders and sailors, the latter suffering mightily with the lake's marinas too shallow to function properly.)
We all should love the lake, and we should know that the biggest threat to its future may be our temptation to dam the Bear River — one of the three major sources feeding the lake (the Bear on the north end, the Jordan on the south end, and the Weber in the middle). A series of dams has been proposed for the Bear, the water going to quench Utah's growing population. For all the reasons mentioned above, the consequences for the lake would be hard to ignore.
It may be the world's largest mud puddle, but we wouldn't want to go without it.