Nearly every day during the fall semester, collegiate runners tightened their laces for morning runs in the shadow of the mountains that span the Wasatch Front. As the Salt Lake valley’s inversions bring thick smog, some college athletes said they have been forced to train indoors or breathe in toxic air that threatens their respiratory health.

Ty Davis, a track and cross-country runner for Weber State University, said the unpredictable air quality has become a regular topic of training discussion.

“Almost every day before our runs, our coaches and even some of my teammates … talk about the air quality and decide if we are going to — or if we should — move our practice indoors,” Davis said. “It has become a normal thing to take some kind of precaution with the air quality.”

For Davis and other Utah residents, the state’s natural beauty is often overshadowed by the Great Salt Lake’s shrinking footprint, stirring up dust that adds to the Wasatch Front’s worsening air quality.

Utah’s deteriorating air quality, exacerbated by the drying lake, poses risks to the respiratory health of collegiate track and cross-country athletes. Researchers and medical experts warn that exposure to fine particulate matter and harmful pollutants can hinder lung function and long-term endurance. As the lakebed continues to expose more dust that’s laden with arsenic and metals, the health stakes rise, raising questions and concern from collegiate athletes about the future of outdoor running in the region.

(Kurt Ward) Ty Davis leads his Weber State University teammates in a cross-country race at the Riverside Golf Course in Pocatello, Idaho.

An invisible enemy

For collegiate track and cross-country teams in Utah, these challenges have turned air quality into a year-round consideration. Coaches and athletes must balance the need to build endurance and strength with the realities of fluctuating air pollution levels, sometimes moving to indoor facilities or scheduling practices during times of lower pollution. However, these adaptations can only go so far, leaving many athletes to face the cumulative effects of training in compromised environments.

“There are definitely days when I notice the smog and air quality, especially since we run on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail,” Davis said of the path from North Salt Lake to Parleys Canyon. Davis is in the engineering program at Weber State, he said, so “I am also aware of the arsenic and other particles from the Great Salt Lake.”

Sprinter Nick Pembroke said he has trained from the green hills near Utah State University in Logan to the red rocks of Cedar City — and has noticed the air quality in northern Utah sends him indoors to train more frequently. Pembroke, a senior at Southern Utah University, also attended USU for several semesters, and said the air quality in Cache and Salt Lake counties seems to be worse than what he experienced in Iron County.

“I definitely am able to tell the difference on how it affects my breathing,” he said. “If it’s bad, … then I notice my lungs feel heavy, and I don’t do as many reps because I tire quicker.”

Sprinter Nick Pembroke said he has trained from the green hills near Utah State University in Logan to the red rocks of Cedar City — and has noticed the air quality in northern Utah sends him indoors to train more frequently. Pembroke, a senior at Southern Utah University, also attended USU for several semesters, and said the air quality in Cache and Salt Lake counties seems to be worse than what he experienced in Iron County.

“I definitely am able to tell the difference on how it affects my breathing,” he said. “If it’s bad, … then I notice my lungs feel heavy, and I don’t do as many reps because I tire quicker.”

(Nick Pembroke) Nick Pembroke, a sprinter at Southern Utah University, sets himself in the starting block for the 4x400m at the Aztec Invitational in San Diego, California, in March 2024.

Dust from the lake

Kerry Kelly, associate professor in chemical engineering at the University of Utah, measured these particles to try to answer some of these questions. Kelly was lead author in a study published in November in the journal Atmospheric Environment, in which researchers found high levels of reactivity and bioaccessiblity (how well a substance is absorbed into the body) in comparison to other sediments from spots around Utah. There was a noticeably higher level of manganese, iron, copper and lead.

“Lead is a concern for developmental reasons,” Kelly said. “Manganese, iron and copper — these are transition metals and are known to be very irritating to your lungs. Once you get irritation, that can lead to this whole inflammatory response … and its adverse health effects, like asthma.”

Other research shows air quality significantly damages runners’ respiratory health and performance. Pollutants like ozone, particulate matter, nitrogen dioxide and carbon monoxide are particularly harmful during exercise, as deeper and more frequent breathing allows these pollutants to bypass natural nasal filtration and reach the lungs directly, according to researchers at the University of Birmingham and the Canal and Rivers Trust.

Kevin Perry, an atmospheric scientist at the University of Utah, said more exposed lakebed at Great Salt Lake also leads to more dust storms. Utahns living along the Wasatch Front and near the lake’s shoreline, he said, tend to experience, on average, four to five dust storms a year.

(BYU Media) Elyse Jessen, a middle-distance runner for Brigham Young University.

Battling ‘track hack’Elyse Jessen, a middle-distance runner for Brigham Young University, said she is more familiar with visible air quality issues, such as polluted winter inversions and smoke from summer wildfires, but was unaware of the challenges facing Great Salt Lake.

“Whenever we are pulled inside for training at BYU, I am always under the understanding that’s it is only due to [the] temperature or if it’s snowing,” said Jessen, “Obviously, there are days when I go outside, and I can see smog in the air, but I have never had conversations with my teammates or my coaches concern about air quality.”

Jessen added that she sometimes experiences “track hack,” a term runners use for throat irritation after intense training. It’s medically known as exercise-induced bronchostriction, or EBI. The American College of Allergy, Asthma and Immunology notes “track hack” is a common condition among competitive and elite athletes — a side effect of breathing in dry or polluted air during periods of exertion.

“I have been running since I was 15, but I don’t think I have personally experienced any health issues from the air quality,” she said. “I don’t have asthma, and the only time I really have issues breathing are after really hard workouts or when it’s scorching hot outside.”

Now, Jessen said, she is starting to understand how environmental factors unique to northern Utah can affect her training and performance and plans to research mitigation strategies.

“I never knew that I was breathing in so many harmful things in the air,” she said. “But now I want to learn more about how to adapt for my health and performance.”

Gabe Haymore wrote this story as a journalism student at the University of Utah. It is published as part of a collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune. Haymore’s class partnered with the Great Salt Lake Collaborative, a solutions journalism initiative that partners news, education and media organizations to help inform people about the plight of the Great Salt Lake — and what can be done to make a difference before it is too late. Read all of the collaborative’s stories at greatsaltlakenews.org.

###

NOTE TO MEDIA PARTNERS PUBLISHING WORK

We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text :This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Grabe Haymore wrote this story as a journalism student at the University of Utah. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.

Wearing a dark red shirt, Joshua Dixon sits in a tall grass field, singing a traditional Diné song. The song ends, and Dixon, a member of Utah’s Navajo Nation, looks to the camera and explains the deep connection many Native people have to the land. When they came into this world, he said, they understood they were part of the system.

“That’s what they mean by ‘Tó éí ííńá át'é,’” he said in the opening scene of a new documentary. “Water is our life.”

“The Illusion of Abundance,” premieres April 30 at Westminster University with the Great Salt Lake Institute. A Brolly Arts film, the documentary short combines the art forms of dance, music and poetry to bring attention to Great Salt Lake and its rapid demise.

Amy McDonald, director and founder of Brolly Arts, said the film was inspired by a narrative piece by local artist Sophia Cutubrus in 2022. Her written piece explores the plight of Great Salt Lake through its history as the “West’s Coney Island,” the tributaries that flow into it and the science behind the drying lake.

The film originally opened with a group of modern dancers on the shores of the drying lake, McDonald said, but after seeing an early cut, she knew they needed to rethink the approach.

“We realized to complete the picture … we really have to include the Indigenous voice to go along with this narrative so that we get the holistic viewpoint,” she said.

Throughout the documentary, filmmakers weave in perspectives from members of Diné (Navajo), Tewa (Hopi), Confederated Tribes of the Goshute Nation, the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation and Northern Utes from the Uintah Band and Uncompahgre Band.

The new opening scene centers on Dixon to illustrate the deep relationship between Indigenous people and the land as a link to the current reality surrounding Great Salt Lake, which filmmakers strived to connect through culture and art.

“I chose a really simple Navajo song, but it does carry a lot of meaning behind it,” Dixon told the Great Salt Lake Collaborative. “[It] showcases the way the Navajo community and many other Indigenous communities felt that connection to the land.”

Connecting water to art

In September of 2022, Sofia Gorder, choreographer and Brolly Art’s director of program development, created a dance to go along with Cutubrus’ spoken narrative to bring awareness of the crisis at the lake and use of water in Utah through different art forms. Brolly called the project “Evaporation: What Does It Take To Leave Enough Water For Great Salt Lake” and began to perform it at lake-related events.

Watching the dance performed for audiences at the Great Salt Lake Symposium and at Alta Ski Resort, from where water eventually flows to the Jordan River and Great Salt Lake, McDonald said she realized the message should be broadened through a documentary film.

“We have to touch hearts, as well as minds and [make] people care, then people are more likely to engage and take action, particularly when they understand that their actions will have impact,” she said.

In her choreography, Gorder said she tapped into feminism and Afro-feminism because conversations between the largely female dancers often centered on personal experiences of exploitation — much like Great Salt Lake has experienced.

“There was just this adjacent kind of conversation that felt almost exactly the same,” she said, “like this cultural and biological development around women holding space for healing and all of the ecosystems … while it's being exploited and taken from."

Ursula Perry dances near Great Salt Lake for the film, ‘The Illusion of Abundance.’ (Photo Alex Lee | Brolly Arts).

Gorder said after she finished choreographing her piece and before the film process had begun, she found herself wondering, like McDonald had, whether it would be relevant or make an impact.

“Who wants to watch modern dance, a predominantly white cast of modern dancers, talk about the plight of the lake?” she said. “It felt vapid, even though it was artistically pretty solid.”

Gorder said she had to ask herself what makes this film an important one. She realized, she said, the original approach was too limiting to individual experiences when everyone living in the Salt Lake Valley is part of a larger ecosystem.

“[Many Utah Natives] have incredible language and knowledge systems that explain all of this,” she said. “And so we knew we wanted to shift the film to learn from Indigenous folks and their voice.”

An equal being

Gorder reached out to Jessica Wiarda, a Hopi artist and fashion designer, to work as a liaison with filmmakers throughout the process. Wiarda said she then began connecting with and inviting other Indigenous people to share their knowledge and participate in the film.

“A lot of what's been missing in the Great Salt Lake movement is just Native voices being elevated,” Wiarda said.

While the film’s creators showed a commitment to honoring and accurately reflecting Indigenous voices, Wiarda said natural challenges can come about when bringing together different sensibilities and approaches. For example, she said, many Indigenous people like to take their time to sit with things, like listening to an idea five or six times before committing to it.

“There's a lot of approvals that need to go through [with] such a marginalized group like Indigenous people,” Wiarda said. “We’re often told we're elevated but then we don't get invited to the party afterward – we don't get invited to the table. We're just put as an afterthought.”

Wiarda said another challenge was a disconnect of cultural ideas. Non-Indigenous people, she said, seem to look at the lake as something that needs saving because of what it provides to the environment and the state’s residents.

“Indigenous knowledge is, ‘No, the lake is your equal being. It's equal to you,’” she said. “You're not just taking from [it], and a lot of our Indigenous voices in that film talk about that.”

Throughout the filming process, Dixon said the Native people involved had a lot to say, and Wiarda pushed for the perspective of Indigenous people’s connection to the environment to be shown.

“It's not some dreamy wishy-washy thing,” he said. “It is a very real, concrete connection we have to the land, and we have a concern over the land that is genuine.”

McDonald said filmmakers were committed to building relationships with the Indigenous people sharing their knowledge and voices for the film. They didn’t want to unintentionally disregard cultural beliefs but create a space where knowledge could be shared with the purpose of educating, she said. Those perspectives, she said, helped them learn and grow.

“It's not surprising that there’s not a lot of trust of white people for all the harm that's been done,” she said. “[It’s] a fine line for a relationship because everybody needs to feel respected and honored and make sure that every voice is heard.”

Gorder said she also hopes the film – and the process of making it – encourages people to ask questions and begin to understand the many ways conversations and advocacy are forming around the lake.

“There are some conflicts there — certainly a lot of the Native elders [ask], ‘Why are they doing weird modern dance? Why are white people dancing about Indigenous issues?’” she said. “It brings up some good questions about … whose voice is important and how do we integrate them?”

Dixon said, overall, he thinks the film is a step in the right direction toward including Indigenous representation, but it will always be challenging to get a genuine representation of Native people.

“The main issue with trying to capture a genuine portrayal of Native people is that … it's going to be put through [the filmmakers’] lens –- what they would like to capture and what they would like to portray us as,” he said. “That's just the nature of human beings. Unless we have experience with something first hand, we really don't know.”

Wiarda said it’s a good turning point for the Great Salt Lake movement to start working to understand, respect and include Indigenous voices, despite it being a slow and meticulous process.

“Conversation[s] started that people were kind of afraid to have,” she said. “[The filmmakers] did a really good job of melding the two voices — that we both exist in Salt Lake."

***

Attend the premiere

“An Illusion of Abundance” premieres April 30, 6:30-8:30 p.m., at Westminster University’s Jones Recital Hall (1840 S. 1300 East, Salt Lake City). The free screening will be followed by a discussion with the film’s creators and experts on the Great Salt Lake Basin. Click here to RSVP.

***

Vanessa Hudson, a student at the University of Utah, wrote this story as part of a College of Humanities journalism course in partnership with the Great Salt Lake Collaborative and Amplify Utah. The collaborative is a solutions journalism initiative that partners news, education and media organizations to help inform people about the plight of the Great Salt Lake – and what can be done to make a difference before it is too late. Read all of our stories at greatsaltlakenews.org.

During the Bear River Massacre in 1863, around 200 U.S. Army soldiers killed at least 350 Shoshone men, women and children. It was the largest massacre of Native Americans in U.S. history, with some estimates saying the death toll was closer to 490.

Now, the restoration of Wuda Ogwa, the site near Preston, Idaho, along the banks of the Bear River and where the Bear River Massacre happened, is underway by the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation.

“Cultural healing is the reason we started … to heal that land there,” said Brad Parry, vice chairman of the Northwestern Band of Shoshone and natural resources program manager. “At the time we camped there in 1863, it was free-flowing.”

His ancestors could catch trout in the Bear River and hunt deer, elk and all sorts of waterfowl nearby, Parry said. 

“We want to start that place over as a happy place, as a place you want to visit for the right reasons,” he said. “Right now, it's a graveyard. It's a cemetery. It's a place where something extremely bad happened.”

In 2018, the tribe purchased over 500 acres around the massacre site and is in the process of acquiring more. To restore the site to how it was in 1863 and before, the tribe is using historic aerial photography and written accounts of the site conditions, Parry said. 

The project includes stream restoration efforts, digging a new wetlands pond, removing invasive species and planting native plants, he said. The construction of stream restoration structures along the Battle Creek Tributary are expected to begin in May 2024.

In his project grant application, Parry said the restoration “will improve overall water quality in Battle Creek and in Bear River," according to Great Salt Lake Collaborative partner, KSL.com. He estimated the project will send about 13,000 additional acre-feet of water to Great Salt Lake every year.

The project is expected to be completed by the fall of 2026.

The tribe also plans to build the Boa Ogoi Cultural and Interpretive Center, which Parry said will feature interactive and educational experiences about Shoshone culture and history to commemorate the massacre. 

The Great Salt Lake Collaborative spoke with Parry about the importance of the restoration project to the tribe, its relationship with the lake and Bear River, and his views on how local media covers these issues.

This conversation was edited for conciseness and clarity.

The Bear River Massacre site (as pictured on Jan. 29, 2024) is being restored by the Northwestern Band of Shoshone and collaborators to culturally heal and provide more water to the dying Great Salt Lake. (Photo: Brad Parry)

Concerning the overall importance of water to your tribe, history and culture, how do you see the restoration of Boa Ogoi contributing to both environmental and cultural healing?

“Cultural healing is the reason we started it … After the massacre, we were either buried on that land or left. And as agriculturalists came in, they brought in silt, dirt and smoothed that out, and basically just changed the landscape  … Our ancestors knew it as an extremely happy place to go because of the warm dance, [and] a lot of food, a lot of sustenance. It just makes sense that if you're going to heal something, you start with the natural — you remove the invasive [plants] and plant natural things and let the water do what it wants … So, there's going to be an unintended consequence of water coming down to the Great Salt Lake.”

Can you please elaborate on the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Nation’s efforts in restoring this area and its importance?

“That's how we teach. It's hard to teach somebody how to grow medicine plants and harvest and use them inside of a building.  [With the restoration], we can teach our kids, ‘This is how we do this … this is how you gather it, this is how you use it.’  … We can start to flip the narrative and change the landscape … We've got a lot of partners and a lot of people who donate time and work with us … The community has changed. And so that's what we want to do – rejuvenate the place, so it has that spirit … of welcoming. It's hard to start to feel welcome at a massacre site, you know?”

What’s the significance of the Bear River to the Northwestern Shoshone?

“It was a major life source for us. We camped along the banks basically from where the Bear River massacre site is to all the way down to the Great Salt Lake. You travel with water, and the [nearby] Bear Lake produces fish. There are wetlands that were all around it, willows, so we could fish and hunt birds. And then, with the amount of willows and cattails and other things around there, we could make camp anywhere … We could always use those things to make temporary homes, wickiups.” 

What is your personal connection to the lake as well as its significance to your tribe?

“I'm from Syracuse, Utah, so the lake was always a landmark to me. We would travel the Bear River and we would camp at Promontory Point, right on the banks of the Great Salt Lake because Chief Segwich – my great, great, great grandfather – was in charge of the rabbit hunt for all bands of the Shoshone. We would get together for rabbit hunts, salmon run, buffalo hunts, deer hunts and eat … I've seen [the lake] fluctuate, but I've never seen it this low …I can speak for my ancestors [when I say] that if they saw this, they would be concerned because they would worry about the loss of wetlands, the loss of wildlife and waterfowl. The loss of being able to collect clean salt and doing those sorts of things. It's really important that we take all of those factors in when we talk about the Great Salt Lake. It's not the lake itself, it's what it produces.”

What have been the biggest challenges and successes the tribe has faced in reclaiming and restoring its ancestral lands?

“There really haven't been blockades. We've got several people we've received grants from. I think the hardest part is just finding those big grants that allow you to do the work. It's challenging because you have to get so many people on the same page when you're using federal money or state money or private donations … It took three years of planning to get to the point where [we could start construction] … Now we're ready to really put in the work …  We’ve [also] had volunteer days to come out and plant trees with the community. It's been wonderful. We've been able to talk to people about why we're doing the restoration and how it helps [educate].”

How have you approached making sure your collaborators understand what’s being done and why it’s being done? 

“To work with us, you just have to respect our beliefs. This has been 100% indigenously led, and we try to include people who are interested in that and who have a high respect. We're running our own project — that's the biggest thing, no one's doing this for us. We've hired everybody – we've done everything – and so this is truly a tribal project. That's been really important to us. In asking for help from people, we make sure that they're on the same page and that they want to do the same things that we do.”

Where do you place environmental issues at Great Salt Lake in your list of priorities?

“A lot of people want us to come out and lead the charge [on issues related to] the Great Salt Lake, and that's just not how it's done. The lake is important, it's important to everybody. And, so, [we’ve] chosen to work with the state and their leaders and water districts and just talk. We don't have any land around the Great Salt Lake. We have very few water rights that go to the Great Salt Lake. All we can do is suggest [things]. My biggest suggestion to the people in Utah is, if they support our project, we'll [be able to] send Idaho water to the Great Salt Lake… We believe in [improving things in a] natural way … We also know when to get out of the way … I don't know that our voice is any more important than the people — you know, the farmers that depend on the water and the snow it produces when the Great Salt Lake’s full. All of us have a good argument for wanting it there.”

What else do you think can be done to save the lake? 

“Honestly, conserve water, pray for rain. That's really the only thing we can do …  How do we figure out how to conserve water so the farmers are happy, so the city users are happy, the Indigenous people are happy and the leadership is happy? …  Everybody knows the lake’s there, everybody knows it's dropping, and people are having protests. I mean, it’s really kind of time to shut up and put our money where our mouth is and just start building projects … [People] have to work together and come together as a community. We need to figure that out.” 

How would you describe your interactions with journalists as the lake has garnered more attention in recent years?

“I've done several interviews. I've spoken at certain things, and it gets published online. I think our stance is out there. People keep calling us and saying, ‘Well, I want your perspective.’ … We've been talking about it for three years. Nothing's changed — we need more water to the Great Salt Lake. We're always interested in people who want to understand [culturally] why we're doing it …  so we take time to explain that. And it's really just a simple concept — remove invasive [plants] and replant native and let the water, let Mother Earth heal itself, let it take over. That's culturally and spiritually what we believe – [let] the stuff all live in harmony. Not everybody thinks that way, and that's fine … People [have] to start working together and see what possibility could be there. It's a political thing, it's a community thing, and that’s sometimes hard to do.”

What do journalists often get wrong?

“A lot of times people will contact us and say, ‘Hey, we're about to give you a voice’ and that's super offensive. We have a voice — I can get on Gov. Cox's [or Great Salt Lake Commissioner Brian Steed’s] schedule in about 10 minutes if I see something … I have those contacts because of what I do and who I am with the tribe. What we want people to understand is that we support increasing the level of the lake. We don't have all the answers … People keep thinking that we need to lead the charge, and we don't. People don't understand how exploitative that can be … We're doing what we're doing, and at the end of the day, that is going to help the Great Salt Lake.” 

What would you like to see journalists do differently?  

“Unless we call you, don't call us. I mean, quite honestly, we'll reach out if we have something to say … We're not more special than anybody else. What we would care about is if people come out to take a look at what we're doing and then write the story we tell them instead of trying …  to use us [as] the voice of the Great Salt Lake. We don't want to do that … It's always been hard between Native Americans and journalists. There's just not that relationship because we've been misquoted so many times. And that's why we take over our own media … people just get [things] wrong.” 

Looking ahead, what are the priorities regarding land restoration, cultural preservation and environmental sustainability?

“We'd like to acquire more land along the Battle Creek corridor and around the Bear River massacre site and kind of update them the same way we did, culturally, to keep that preservation and to keep learning and teaching … Since we've never had a reservation, we want to obtain lands for a reservation and kind of see what we can do to upgrade [and help us] … with our cultural preservation …  [As for] environmental stability, we're hoping that everything we do will continue to keep the environment better. We just want to keep doing more. The more we do, the longer we can, the longer the state's sustainability. The more we do upstream of the Great Salt Lake, [more and better water will]  flow into the Great Salt Lake …  Our sustainability is to get to the point where we've done all of this restoration –  and have moved it along and monitored it and cultivated it – so, in the future, it just runs on its own.” 

Vice Chairman of the Northwestern Shoshone Tribe Brad Parry and his sister, Angie, at the Bear River Massacre site on Jan. 29, 2024. (Photo: Clint Barnes)

***

Andrew Christiansen, a senior at the University of Utah, wrote this story as part of a College of Humanities journalism course in partnership with the Great Salt Lake Collaborative and Amplify Utah. The collaborative is a solutions journalism initiative that partners news, education and media organizations to help inform people about the plight of the Great Salt Lake – and what can be done to make a difference before it is too late.  Read all of our stories at greatsaltlakenews.org.