The road to Antelope Island was paved with good intentions, but the fickle nature of the Great Salt Lake did it in.
When the lake rose to record levels in 1983, it took out the main causeway to the island, blocking the state's ambitious plans to turn it into the place where visitors from afar could indulge their curiosity about the surrounding near-mythic body of water.Since then, the limited development of Antelope Island has languished, and it remains an other-world place completely off-limits to a public that knows little of its grandeur.
The island's isolation is a sad state of affairs by some accounts.
"People from out of state are taught very early on that Utah is where the Great Salt Lake is," Mitch Larsson, director of Great Salt Lake State Park, said during a recent tour of the island. "They come to Utah to see it, and we're unable to show it to them. We have one of the wonders of the world, and we've failed to utilize it except for salt, brine shrimp and minerals."
The common encounter with the lake can be unimpressive and for thousands is probably a complete turn-off. About 46,000 travelers signed the guest book last year at the small visitors center near Saltair Beach on I-80, the most visited spot on the lake and one as famous for its unpleasant odor of fecund wetlands as anything.
It's evident that travelers would like to see more of the Great Salt Lake than that. The state Department of Natural Resources counted some 150,000 would-be visitors to Antelope Island who were turned back last year by the signs west of I-15 near the small town of Syracuse advising them the causeway and the island are closed.
Persistent tourists dodge the warning markers and keep going.
"People drive out on the causeway and park their car and go for a dip just to say they went for a swim in the Great Salt Lake," said Rick Mayfield, director of planning and economic development for Davis County, which encompasses Antelope Island. "Every time I go out there I see people from out of state trying to get to the Great Salt Lake."
Those who violate the ban on travel to Antelope Island find the 7.5-mile causeway a broad, white route where flocks of seagulls roosting in the middle of the road take flight and part like an ocean to make way for oncoming vehicles. (Another causeway approaches the island from 8800 West near I-80, but it, too, is closed, and prospects for it opening in the foreseeable future are dim because the state first would have to buy up several parcels of private land.)
From one of the paved viewpoints atop the north end of the island, the landscape is almost Mediterranean: hard brown land, brilliant sunshine, water so clear you can see to the floor of the lake. The bustle of Salt Lake City and Ogden is lost in the haze 15 or 20 miles distant.
"It's cleaner and nicer out here," said Larsson, who patrols the 26,000-acre island, 15 miles long and 4.5 miles wide, in a four-wheel-drive truck that doubles as his office. "People who live right here in Utah don't realize how nice this lake is."
But some of them used to. Until the floods of 1983, the number of visitors to the campground, beaches and trails on the north end of the island grew steadily each year, topping out at 450,000 in 1983. About half of those who drove to the island were from the immediate area.
The department's Division of Parks and Recreation figures the total number could easily double once the island is open to the public again, an event tentatively scheduled for June 1, 1993.
Much of the attraction will be the wild quality of the island, which Larsson said will stay 90 percent intact even after work is done on projects that will include bird-watching areas, new campgrounds, trails, historic-site renovations and some commercial additions such as restaurants.
The long-exterminated herds of antelope for which the island was named by Kit Carson will be reintroduced this fall. The native buffalo population, which celebrates its Antelope Island centennial next year, has grown to about 700, the third-largest public herd of bison in the world, and will most likely be among the biggest draws. Big-horn sheep will be imported to complement the mule deer, coyote, bobcat and 300 species of birds that already live on the island.
"We need to create something that's going to keep people in the area another day," said Larsson. The goal is shared by the Utah Travel Council, which estimates the average party of three nonresident tourists spends $130 a day in Utah.
As part of its lobbying to get the Legislature to spend more money on the resurrection of Antelope Island, the parks and recreation division last year distributed a "fact sheet" that outlined the "exciting financial possibilities" for the island, arguing that developing it as proposed would ultimately bring a steady $50 million into the local economy.
The division, which has also said Antelope Island will pay for itself, has gradually convinced legislators to spend almost enough money to reopen the island.
One of the hardest sells has been the inherent risk involved with anything associated with the lake because the water level could come up again anytime, though experts say the odds are against it happening any time soon.
"1983 was a 100-year high and we might not see that again for another century," said Larsson. "On the other hand, you might see it in 10 years."
In the meantime, dunes drift across the roads around the northernmost beach and weeds grow in the asphalt cracks. Among those most tempted to ignore the keep-out signs are bicyclists, whom Larsson is legally bound to run off, along with everybody else who ventures to Antelope Island, whenever they show up.
"We'll be open in the spring and looking for a lot of bike enthusiasts then," he said as he asked a group of riders to do an about-face for the mainland.
"We'll be back," said one of the bikers.