If you've ever driven the long, desolate stretch of Interstate 80 between Salt Lake City and Wendover, you know the feeling. It’s flat. It’s white. The Bonneville Salt Flats stretch out like an alien planet, shimmering with heat or slicked with a thin, glass-like layer of winter rain. Then, out of nowhere, you see it. It looks like a giant popsicle from space. Or maybe a cluster of tennis balls stuck on a stick. Most people just call it the Tree of Utah, though its official name is Metaphor: The Tree of Utah.
It’s weird. Honestly, that’s the best word for it.
Standing 87 feet tall in the middle of a literal wasteland where almost nothing grows, this massive sculpture has become a landmark for road trippers and truckers alike. But why is it there? Who thought putting a neon-colored concrete tree in a salt desert was a good idea? It wasn't some government project or a weird cult thing. It was the vision of a Swedish artist named Karl Momen, and he paid for the whole thing himself.
The Man Behind the Metaphor
Karl Momen didn't just wake up and decide to build a giant tree in the desert. He was driving across the Great Salt Lake Desert in the early 1980s and was struck by the sheer emptiness of the landscape. To Momen, the vast, white expanse felt like a blank canvas, but also a bit oppressive. He felt the world needed a splash of color and a symbol of life in a place that seemed so devoid of it.
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He spent three years, from 1982 to 1986, bringing this vision to life. This wasn't a small weekend DIY project. We're talking about tons of concrete and minerals. Momen actually used native Utah rock for the "leaves" or the spheres at the top. He incorporated things like jasper and minerals found right in the state to ground the sculpture in its environment, even if the shape looks totally out of place.
The structure is basically a massive concrete trunk supporting six large spheres. Each of these spheres is covered in natural minerals. At the base, there are smaller, broken-looking spheres. Momen meant for these to represent fallen fruit or perhaps the cycle of life and decay. When you're standing near it—though you technically aren't supposed to—the scale is staggering.
Why the Location Matters
The Great Salt Lake Desert is one of the most inhospitable places on Earth. The salt crust is thick, the water is undrinkable, and the sun reflects off the ground with a blinding intensity. By placing the Tree of Utah here, Momen created a juxtaposition that sticks in your brain. You have this organic shape—a tree—rendered in industrial materials, standing in a place where a real tree wouldn't last a day.
It’s art as a landmark. For locals, it’s a sign that you’re almost home or almost to the Nevada border. For tourists, it’s a "What on earth was that?" moment that prompts a Google search twenty miles later when they finally get a signal.
The Controversy and the Fence
Not everyone loved it. When it first went up, some folks in Utah thought it was an eyesore. There was a fair bit of grumbling about "littering" the natural beauty of the salt flats with a concrete monstrosity. But over time, the Tree of Utah has become a beloved part of the state's geography. It's like that one eccentric uncle everyone has; he’s a bit much, but you’d miss him if he wasn't there.
One thing that surprises people is that you can't actually walk up to it.
For years, people would pull off the shoulder of I-80 to take photos or, unfortunately, spray-paint graffiti on the base. This became a major safety hazard. I-80 is a high-speed corridor with heavy semi-truck traffic. Having families darting across the mud flats was a recipe for disaster. Consequently, the Utah Department of Transportation (UDOT) eventually installed a fence and strictly prohibited stopping on the freeway to visit the tree.
If you try to hike out there, be warned: the salt flats are deceptive. What looks like solid ground is often "potash" mud—a thick, salty sludge that can trap a vehicle or ruin your boots in seconds. It’s sticky, it’s corrosive, and it’s a nightmare to clean off.
Maintenance in a Harsh Environment
Maintaining a massive sculpture in a salt desert is a logistical headache. Salt is incredibly corrosive. The wind out there can reach hurricane forces during storms, sandblasting everything in its path.
In the late 2000s, the tree started looking a little rough. The spheres were losing their luster, and the concrete was taking a beating. Since Momen had gifted the sculpture to the state (specifically to a foundation), there were questions about who would pay for the repairs. Eventually, efforts were made to stabilize the structure and clean up the "leaves."
It’s a constant battle against the elements. The desert wants to reclaim everything, but the Tree of Utah keeps standing.
What the Tree Represents Today
When Momen finished the sculpture, he dedicated it with a plaque that features a quote from Ode to Joy by Friedrich Schiller. It’s about the brotherhood of man and the joy of creation. While that might feel a bit lofty for a roadside attraction, it fits Momen's personality. He didn't want a "tourist trap." He didn't build a gift shop or a parking lot. He just wanted the art to exist.
Honestly, the Tree of Utah works because it doesn't explain itself. There are no signs on the highway telling you what it is. It just appears. In an age where everything is geotagged, explained, and marketed, there’s something refreshing about a giant concrete tree that just is.
It challenges the driver. It breaks the monotony of a four-hour drive where the horizon never seems to change. It makes you think about the intersection of human ego and the vastness of nature. Or, you know, it just gives you something to look at besides white salt.
Seeing the Tree for Yourself
If you're planning to see it, here's the deal. You’ll find it about 25 miles east of Wendover.
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- Heading West: It will be on your right (north) side.
- Heading East: It’s on your left, across the median.
- Photography: Don't stop on the freeway. Seriously. The Highway Patrol is very active in this area and they will ticket you. The best way to get a photo is to have a passenger ready with a fast shutter speed as you drive by at 80 mph.
- The View: Look for it about midway between the Grassy Mountain Rest Area and the Wendover salt flats.
The lighting changes the sculpture dramatically. At sunrise, the spheres glow with a soft orange hue. During a storm, when the salt flats turn into a mirror of water, the tree looks like it’s floating in an endless grey void.
Actionable Tips for Your Desert Drive
Driving the stretch of I-80 where the Tree of Utah resides isn't like a normal road trip. It requires a bit of prep.
First, check your tires and fluids. There are long stretches with zero services. If you break down near the tree, you’re a long way from a mechanic.
Second, bring sunglasses. The glare off the salt flats is intense. Without polarized lenses, you’ll be squinting so hard you might miss the sculpture entirely.
Third, keep an eye on your gas tank. People underestimate the distance between Salt Lake and Wendover. If you see a sign for gas, take it.
Finally, appreciate the isolation. The Tree of Utah is a monument to the idea that even in the most "empty" places, there is room for human expression. It’s a weird, concrete middle finger to the boredom of the desert.
Whether you find it beautiful or bizarre, it's a testament to one man’s desire to change the landscape. It’s a landmark that has survived harsh winters, blistering summers, and decades of skeptical travelers. Next time you're heading toward the Nevada border, keep your eyes peeled. That weird shape on the horizon is more than just a trick of the light; it's a bit of Swedish modernism in the heart of the American West.
Check the weather before you head out. High winds can make that stretch of I-80 dangerous for high-profile vehicles, and blowing salt can reduce visibility to near zero. If the conditions are clear, enjoy the sight of the world’s loneliest tree.