The Brief

Sicco Rood didn't know what to expect when he set out, in the last days of December, to paddle his canoe around the Salton Sea. The 300-square-mile lake in the Coachella Valley is California's largest inland water body and one of its most forbidding, at least for a long-distance adventure with just a paddle.

Temperatures around the lake can approach freezing in the winter and rise well above 100 degrees in the summer. There's no fresh water. And much of the lake is bordered by marsh, mudflats and quicksand.

While preparing for the trip, Rood, a 50-year-old photographer and research associate at UC Irvine's Anza-Borrego Desert Research Center in eastern San Diego County, hadn't come across any accounts of anyone ever having canoed around the lake before.

"Am I going to scrape along old bombs or get stuck in the weeds?" he recalled wondering. (The Navy's former Salton Sea Test Base practiced bombing during World War II in and around the lake.) "Or get blown into the middle of the sea by the winds?"

Sicco Rood set out to canoe around the Salton Sea to get beyond the lake's reputation as an environmental catastrophe.

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Courtesy Sicco Rood

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None of those things happened, although conditions weren't perfect enough for Rood to make it all the way around the inland sea, an estimated 87-95 miles by his planned route. A storm and a family commitment sent him home after six days of paddling with about one-third of the trip left to complete, which he hopes to do sometime this year.

Rood shared with LAist some of his photos from the trip, and his discoveries.

The lake's accidental creation

The modern version of the Salton Sea was accidentally created in 1905 when the Colorado River breached an irrigation canal and began flowing into the dry bed of historic Lake Cahuilla. (Prior to that, the lakebed naturally filled up and dried out periodically.)

Cormorants in the Salton Sea.

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Courtesy Sicco Rood

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The Salton Sea's trajectory since then has been turbulent — from a water sports and fishing mecca to a major ecological dilemma, seemingly ever on the brink of disaster.

It had intrigued Rood since he backpacked across the Santa Rosa Mountains several years ago to watch the sun rise and set over the lake. "It just looked like a jewel in the desert," he said.

He wanted to experience it close-up, which isn't easy — much of the lake's perimeter is inaccessible by road or trail, although one person did walk around it in 2015.

The Salton Sea from the Santa Rosa Mountains.

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Courtesy Sicco Rood

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Rood wanted to be on the lake. "I think there's no more intimate way to experience a lake or a sea than by way of canoe," he said.

Months of prep for challenging conditions

Rood spent months planning for his Salton Sea trip. He patched up his old canoe. He made a spreadsheet with everything he'd need, including a solar panel to keep his phone and camera batteries charged. He bought snowshoes at a thrift store, which he hoped would help him safely trek across mudflats to find dry spots for camping. (Good news, they worked!)

Right before the trip, Rood cached water at key spots along his route, for drinking but also for washing his feet, which he knew were likely to be frequently covered in the lake’s potentially toxic mud. The Salton Sea is fed mostly by agricultural runoff. Testing of sediments has found chemical compounds used in pesticides as well as elevated concentrations of heavy metals including arsenic and selenium.

Rood found a good weather window at the end of December and decided to go for it. Through a Salton Sea Facebook group, he found someone to help him get the canoe to his starting point, the former Navy base on the lake's southwest shore.

He set off on Dec. 29.

Finding life in a 'dead' place

The Salton Sea once supported a wide variety of fish but as the water has gotten steadily saltier — now nearly twice as salty as the ocean — only two species have survived: tilapia and endangered desert pupfish.

Barnacles are part of the food chain in the Salton Sea, though they are not native to the lake.

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Courtesy Sicco Rood

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The lake is also plagued by algae blooms that kill off fish, which in turn threaten the hundreds of bird species that depend on those fish for food. Plus, the shoreline has been receding for decades, exposing toxic dust that threatens the health of local communities.

These facts have given the lake an increasingly bleak reputation, But Rood says the dystopian narrative is wrong. "People have been saying the place is dead … but that's not what I saw at all."

What Rood experienced during his six days on the lake was abundant life, he said. Lush vegetation lined some parts of the lakeshore and he said he paddled past thousands of birds every day.

Rood also marveled at the solitude he found on the lake despite the millions of people who live within a few hours' drive. During his trip around the northern half of the lake, Rood didn't see a single person out on the water.

Black-necked stilts over the Salton Sea.

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Courtesy Sicco Rood

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For the first five days of the trip, he saw just one other human on shore, a lone fisherman near the old Navy base.

Rood had hoped to end back at the old military base, but strong winds and white caps during the middle of his trip forced him off the lake for hours at a time. Rain also seeped into a crack in his cell phone. It died, and he decided to call it quits, for now.

A snowy egret near the bank of the Salton Sea.

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Courtesy Sicco Rood

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An abandoned pier on the Salton Sea. The lake was a vibrant vacation destination for much of the 20th century.

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Courtesy Sicco Rood

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"It wasn't a race for me," Rood said of his truncated trip. "It was really about a retreat. … so I'll just come back later and finish."

Until he heads out again in his canoe, Rood is sharing photos and videos from the trip on social media in an effort to shake up the public’s perception of the Salton Sea as doomed, if not already dead.

"It's a beautiful place," Rood said, "it just needs protection."

How to visit

For the last three years, the record store and music venue Healing Force of the Universe has been operating on a sleepy street corner not far from Pasadena City College. Nearby businesses include a shoe repair store, a nail salon and several auto shops.

“We're kind of in a dead corner,” owner Austin Manuel said. “No offense if anybody lives here, but not a very foot-trafficked area, kind of a hard place to have a store.”

In spite of the location, Manuel said Healing Force has become a home away from home for musicians and music fans. One of them is Bobby Bradford, a jazz trumpet legend who lost his house and personal archive in the Eaton Fire. He performs regularly at the venue. (Healing Force has also partnered with LAist on fire recovery events.)

Its current location is set to close this month, but Manuel and his team are already raising funds to cover a move to another space: G-Son Studios in Atwater Village. The repurposed ballroom was the Beastie Boys' home base when they recorded their classic albums Check Your Head and Ill Communication. Run-DMC and Biz Markie stopped by at one point, and Beck also laid down tracks for his album Odelay there.

Inside Healing Force's space in Pasadena.

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Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

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The vibe

Healing Force sells records, of course, but these days it’s more of a nighttime performance space. Manuel said he wants people to feel comfortable striking up conversations after a show.

“I grew up in the church in the South, and I was like, ‘How do I design this so that it feels like a Southern church lady could come in here and feel welcome?’" Manuel said. “ I didn't want it to be too cool.  I wanted it to feel kind of suburban in a way.”

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Though the name might call to mind a cult slogan — and Manuel said they lean into that aesthetic on purpose — it’s actually a reference to the 1970 album Music Is the Healing Force of the Universe by saxophonist Albert Ayler.

At the venue, “people can kind of get … into a meditative zone,” Manuel said. “After the [January 2025] fires, it felt so good to come back together in this room and feel the healing of community.”

Healing Force's stage setup.

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Kevin Tidmarsh/LAist

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The performances

The shows Healing Force puts on share a common thread: They’re meant to promote peace and relaxation, as well as deep, careful listening on the hi-fi sound system. But they’re an eclectic mix of genres. On one night, you might see L.A. spiritual jazz band Phi-Psonics, who turned a residency at the venue into a live album, Expanding to One.

On another night, you might catch a spaced-out electronic set, an up-and-coming singer-songwriter or a group of session musicians who’ve played with the likes of Paul Simon, Elton John and Lucinda Williams.

About the fundraiser

With the new space on Glendale Boulevard, Manuel said, Healing Force would triple its capacity for concerts, get a bar space and be closer to other venues in Northeast L.A.

“If 1,000 people gave $25, we would get there,” Manuel said – though he also said most people have been giving more.

You can read more about the fundraiser and donate at Healing Force’s GoFundMe.

See the Pasadena space before it closes

The venue is still open at 1200 E. Walnut Street and is holding events through this Halloween weekend. You can see their events calendar on their website.

The racist DNA of Jim Crow discrimination may be embedded in your housing documents.

The language in housing documents that restricts sale or use of a property only to a person of the white race is called a “restrictive covenant,” and in California the practice goes back to the 19th century and continued into the mid-20th century. While housing discrimination persists, the practice was found unconstitutional in 1948.

California counties are reporting mixed progress in meeting the demands of a 2021 law to excise the language from property records.

According to Sylvia Manzo, deputy recorder in the Orange County Clerk-Recorder’s office, the county finished the job in March of this year, removing racist language from more than 27,000 property documents with the help of computer software.

This 1924 property document from Bakersfield includes racist language limiting use of the property in question to people of "the white or Caucasian race."

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Screenshot from CSU Bakersfield

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L.A. County is far from done. It says that with the help of an outside company hired in 2024, 50 million pages will be examined yearly, which would take about 10 years to finish the job.

Public agencies could use the public’s help.

Language examples

Here’s a 1924 example from a property in Bakersfield. The text reads, “That the lands herein conveyed shall never, at any time, be sold to or rented to or occupied by any person not of the white or Caucasian race.”

Or this language from a 1936 document relating to a Costa Mesa property: “That said premises shall not be sold, conveyed, rented, or leased to, or occupied by any person of African, Mexican, or Asiatic descent.”

How to get it taken out

The Restrictive Covenant Modification Form is at the heart of the effort to remove the racist language from housing documents. Each county has its own process. Some charge a fee; others don’t. Some require a notary certification for the signature; others don’t.

L.A. County:

Registrar-Recorder officials recommend these steps:

• Highlight or underline the unlawful provision on the recorded document
• Complete the Restrictive Covenant Modification Form
• Submit the form and the recorded document by email: RCM@rrcc.lacounty.gov or in person at the Norwalk headquarters at 12400 Imperial Highway in Norwalk
• Mail instructions are here.

Orange County:

The Orange County spokesperson says there may be some properties not caught by its software and urges the public to report them. Here’s the form

Riverside County:

Here’s the Riverside County form

San Bernardino County:

Here’s the San Bernardino County form

San Diego County:

Here’s the San Diego County form

Santa Barbara County:

Here’s the Santa Barbara County form

Ignoring the racist language in property documents, some say, reinforces the legacy of segregation, while taking steps to remove restrictive covenant language is a way individuals and organizations can repudiate policies that sought to discriminate.