I visited Utah on a rainy day in July last year. Once I passed the memorial to the Oklahoma, the hordes of tourists that surround Arizona and Missouri quickly dissipated. I knew that you couldn’t access the Utah and her memorial without being military or having a military escort, but I didn’t know that that would dispel so many people from paying their respects to one of the two ships left from the attack.
It was surreal. There were still remnants of machinery, I presume from the vain attempt to salvage her seventy years ago, still littering the shoreline. There were chunks of concrete littering the shore, ready for the daring soul with grippier shoes than mine, presumably from the same effort.
I spent probably half an hour by the memorial, taking photos from every conceivable angle and just taking in it all. the sad thing was, in the half hour I was there, not another soul came by. One vehicle passed by to park at the nearby base housing development. The occasional aquatic lifeform would swim or scurry by. Otherwise, this once-proud battleship that now forms a tomb for 64 shipmates lies more-or-less forgotten.