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Each time he exhaled, the volume of his chest reduced, causing grain to rush to fill the gap and making it progressively harder for him to breathe.Ī doctor was lowered down on a rope to give him oxygen and a harness was placed around the man’s chest. By the time the firefighters were able to establish which of eight tanks he was in, the grain was up to his armpits and acting according to the classic idea of quicksand, was dragging him down. In 2002 a case report was published telling the tale of a man who fell into a grain store late one evening on a farm in Germany. It is true that struggling can make you sink in further, but would you actually sink far enough to drown? The friction between the sand particles is much-reduced, meaning it can’t support your weight anymore and at first you do sink. But then the water and sand separate, leaving a layer of densely packed wet sand which can trap it. The ground looks solid, but when you step on it the sand begins to liquefy. Quicksand usually consists of sand or clay and salt that’s become waterlogged, often in river deltas. Yet the evidence that the more you struggle, the further you sink until you drown, is rather lacking. They were in everything from Lawrence of Arabia to The Monkees. In the 1960s, one in 35 films featured quicksands. There are so many films featuring death by quicksand that Slate journalist Daniel Engbar has even tracked the peak quicksand years in film. All that’s left is sinister sand, and maybe his hat. A man is caught in quicksand, begging onlookers for help, but the more he struggles, the further down into the sand he is sucked until eventually he disappears. "Next time," he says cheerfully, "let's bring an inner tube.We’ve all seen the films. He stands up, looks around and takes a deep breath. No more near-death experiences, thank you very much. Let's go back to hiking in New England where we know what's what. In that fashion, not unlike a giraffe pretending to be a member of the corps de ballet, he improvised a crossing to safety. Slapping the water for leverage, he began tiptoeing across the quaking surface of the siltbed before it could collapse. He says he recalled something he once read in a book: quicksand takes a couple of seconds to break up. Finally, he emerges - a miracle of pink flesh. Jon is smacking his hands against the surface of the water and lurching forward. I look around for a long stick, but floods have scoured this canyon clean. If Jon sinks to his waist, his head submerges by at least a foot. "You will most likely not sink past your waist." But this quicksand is under five feet of water. The locals assure us quicksand is a hassle, not a danger. Quicksand creates a suction that makes it difficult to move anywhere but down, which is why creatures caught in it often die from exertion or starvation. Heavy objects - a cow, a log, my husband - sink readily but can't easily rise. Quicksand is odd: a bed of silt becomes saturated with water so that its grains no longer cohere.
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Jon's arms fling up, elbows stiff, fingers splayed. He yelps like a puppy, but strides on, buttocks bouncing. Although we love these desert canyons, we know their perils mostly from books. Any deeper and we'll turn around and try to find another route. If the water comes no higher than his chest - and my chin - we'll lift our packs over our heads and wade across. The pool is about the size of a big living room, maybe 30 by 20 feet. Pink as the sandstone around us, he walks toward the pool of water that blocks our way up this narrow canyon in southern Utah. My husband lays shirt, shorts and boots on the rock.
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