It's the strangest, the most other-worldly, and, in many ways, the most beautiful landscape I've ever seen. Nothing but salt, sky, light, and sometimes mountains, as far as the eye can see. Anything else is a temporary interloper, brought in by human hands and soon to depart, leaving no trace.
This is Bonneville -- the Bonneville Salt Flats, legendary home of land speed racing. It affected me emotionally more than any place I've been to in a very long time. As a photographer, I found myself responding as much to this astonishing physical space as to the people and cars within it.
A roadster on the Salt. Bonneville, August 2011. [All photos copyright John Edwin Mason, 2011. Click on any image to see a much larger version.]
In a few days, I'll be posting photos of land speed racers and their amazing machines. (Update, 28 August 2011: I've posted a "visual diary" of my week at Bonneville, with many photos of cool cars, bikes, and people, here.) After all, I was at the Southern California Timing Association's [SCTA] Speed Week to shoot a story about Robin Dripps, a record-setting land speed racer, who is also a distinguished professor of architecture at the University of Virginia.
But, for now, I want to show you how I responded to the landscape. Despite the presence of over 500 race cars and motorcycles and a few thousand drivers, crew members, officials, photographers, and spectators, what I saw was space -- gloriously empty, almost blinding space.
A hot rod on the Salt. Bonneville, August 2011.
It's difficult to convey the size of the Salt Flats in words. The salt covers 46 square miles, a hard number to grasp. Let's just say that it's so vast that Bonneville is one of the few places on earth that the naked eye can easily see the curvature of the earth.
Spectators cruise past a viewing area. Bonneville, August 2011.
A car on the starting line of the eight-mile-long temporary race track that the SCTA sets up every August for Speed Week can't been seen at the finish line. The earth's curvature hides it from view. Heck, it's three miles from the pits to the starting line.
Spectators ride past the sign marking the entrance to the impound area, where cars that have qualified to make record attempts must spend the night. Bonneville, August 2011.
The disorientation that I felt for my first few days at Bonneville was certainly related to its overwhelming size. But it also had to do with the salt underfoot. The surface is salt, 90% pure and about the consistency of Kosher salt. There's no grass, no dirt, no gravel, and no concrete or asphalt. If you're upright, you're standing on salt.
Think about the yard outside your house, the grounds that surround your workplace, a shopping center, sports stadium, or any other race track. The surfaces under your feet change every few steps.
A race car being pushed to the starting line. Bonneville, August 2011.
Not at Bonneville.
If you were in the middle of the track, you'd have to travel a good five miles (maybe more) to find something other than salt to walk on.
Spectators and their mobile viewing stand. Bonneville, August 2011. [Remember, you can click on any image to see a larger version.]
Don't get me wrong. It's true that Bonneville can seem vast and empty, despite the hundreds of cars and bikes and thousands of people on hand. But you're never lonely. Everyone I met was friendly, open, and happy to be there with you. (In fact, many of the photos that I made are more heavily populated than these.)
A spectator at the starting line. Bonneville, August 2011.
Still, I found myself so affected by the Salt Flats that I had to find a way to express my emotions visually.
A crew member at the boundary of the impound area. Bonneville, August 2011.
And that meant that I was going to try to capture the vastness of the place.
A crew member begins to repack one of the parachutes that slow the cars after they make a pass. Bonneville, August 2011.
And the way that Bonneville can make any human endeavor seem tiny and fragile.
Spectators watch a hot rod drive on the Salt. Bonneville, August 2011.
There's nothing wrong with that, of course. It's good to be reminded, from time to time, that the universe is much bigger than we are.
Spectators near the starting line. Bonneville, August 2011.
And to be reminded of it in a place of such strange and staggering beauty.
Ice cream vendors on the Salt. Bonneville, August 2011.
But, don't worry. I'm not going to get all philosophical on you.

A race official at his station. Bonneville, August 2011.
In fact, I'm going to shut up and let you see something of Bonneville's other-worldliness.
There's a class for almost every sort of vehicle, at Bonneville. But I'm not sure you'll find Segways in the rule book. Bonneville, August 2011.
And its odd moments of humor.
As the sun sets, a racer is towed back to the pits. Bonneville, August 2011.