Bits and Pieces

In St. Louis where eight inches of rain fell, curious kids checked-out a flooded creek and got stuck in mud up to their waists.

Firefighters had to dig a 12 year old girl out of the mess. SHE STEPED INTO THE MUD THINKIN' SHE COULD GET OUT AND SANK DOWN.



The Rhyl team also assisted in freeing a little girl who had become firmly stuck in a pool of soft mud, which occurs on the main promenade at Rhyl. The team used their specialised equipment

A joint effort was made by Dorset Fire & Rescue, Southbourne and Lymington Coastguards, Poole Coastguard (Mud Rescue Team), Coastguard helicopter India Juliett from Lee-on-Solent and Mudeford RNLI Inshore Lifeboat to extricate a woman stuck in mud on the shoreline just on the Dorset Hampshire border. The woman, once released from the mud was lifted by the helicopter to a waiting Hampshire Ambulance on the cliff top.

These people have symbolically 'drowned' here at the embassy today to show the government of India that there is international support for the struggle of the people of the Narmada Valley and great concern for their plight," says Patrick McCully of International Rivers Network. A 7-year-old adivasi girl, Lata Vasave, was drowned on July 7 after becoming trapped in thick mud deposits on the edge of the Sardar Sarovar reservoir.

When we first moved to Quincy in 1983, an old guy was walking down the street and told me he remembered how, when he was a boy, this whole side of the street was an open field. (these houses were built in 1900!) He also told me that where the North Quincy High School is today there used to be a swamp which had some areas of quicksand. They filled it in after a couple of kids drowned. I wished I had asked him more questions about the area of North Quincy, but I never saw him again. I'm wondering if someone has preserved (or is preserving) these priceless memories of our town before they're lost forever.

However, there were hidden dangers, as I discovered on one occasion when my young sister Julie visited (small child in photo opposite) , I took her for a stroll across an abandoned clay pit, at the rear of the family brickyard. My sister Julie who was only a toddler then, found that she had trapped herself in an area of quicksand. I tried to reach her, but found myself slipping in, fortunately I had called for help and the local brickyard watchman, appeared with a strong length of rope and fortunately managed to haul my sister free. We went home with our skins baked in red clay and quick sand. My sister rushed directly to the deep stone kitchen sink, and was lifted into it and scrubbed by my mother

Subject: Horrific educational films
Posted By Jon
The thing that really disturbed me was the scene where the kid sank into mud or quicksand and was completely smothered by it. I couldn't figure out how they'd filmed it, because the whole thing was done in one shot, full view, without jumping away or cheating in any obvious way. I asked one of my teachers how they'd got the kid out again after, and she just laughed: "Oh, I'm sure they fished him out!" That was the scariest thing about the whole film, not the threat of real-life accidents.
I mean, let's face it, some of the stuff those kids did was just stupid - like the one who tries to drive a tractor, and crashes it down a quarry, or whatever it was. I mean, what an idiot, eh? How insulting to suggest children of ordinary intelligence would ever attempt such a thing. Well, I thought.

While city officials, residents and the boy's caretakers agreed that the boy had ventured into an unsafe area, at issue Monday was how Derrick got into the pit.

A preliminary police report said Derrick entered the water at about 8 p.m. Sunday on a dare. The agency overseeing the boy's foster care, Illinois Mentors, said Derrick was playing near what he believed to be a big puddle and accidentally slipped.

"There was no dare to jump in," said Job West, executive director of Illinois Mentors. "They were daring each other to crawl under the fence and, while they were playing, Derrick slipped and entered mud that was like quicksand. He was sucked down in seconds."

West said one of the boy's foster parents, whom he would not identify, had warned Derrick not to go near the pit. However, West said that the children eventually "snuck in."

Residents blamed shoddy fencing that allowed the children to easily slip into an unmarked, unmonitored site.



"When I was a kid we lived by this field and there were houses being built behind us. I used to hang out with this kid who lived a block away and I used to go through the fields to his house. One time there was this huge storm and my dad called me to come home. So I ran across the feild in mud that was like quicksand. I fell in the mud and got stuck in it up to my chest, and I was screaming, 'Dad! Someboday help me!' I was stuck in the mud and I thought I was gonna die. My neighbor came and pulled me out with a big branch and saved my life. It was just like in the movies. When I got home my mom pulled my dad out of the shower so he could see me. My father had been looking out the window, watching me struggle and cracking up!"

The muddy dream
I had a dream about my friends Becky and Danny. We were outside on a warm spring day in my yard messing around. It had rained two days before, so there was mud here and there. Becky was goofing off, and she was right next to a big area of mud. "Becky! Watch out for the mud!" I cried. But it was too late. Becky stepped in the mud, and her foot sank in up to her calf. She tried to pull her leg out, but her other leg went in, and she almost fell, but stopped herself with her hands, so mud was all the way up to her elbows. "Hey guys! Some help here," Becky said. I remember tugging on Becky, trying to free her, but it was very hard work. For some weird reason, this mud was like glue. Finally, I pulled her out, and like the cartoons, we both fell down. I looked at Becky. Her clothes were completely covered in mud, and there was some mud in her hair. "Looks like you need a shower," I said. Becky looked, and saw she was only wearing socks. Her shoes got stuck in the mud, so we dug them out, and tried to wash them.

Another muddy dream
It was a warm spring day, and I was out in my yard with my friends Danny and Becky. Becky was wearing a grey sweater, a blue skirt, and black knee-high boots. Becky stepped in a big patch of mud, and her feet sunk in...*deep*. She was stuck. She tried to pull her feet out of the brown slop, but she couldn't. "Becky, can you move?" I asked. "No, the mud's too deep," she replied. Finally, with a mighty pull, Becky pulled her left foot out. "Got one foot out," she said. Another tug, and her right foot was free. She looked down, and saw that she was in her socks. Her boots were stuck in the mud, and we couldn't pull them out, so we dug them out. Mud covered them, and we tried to clean the mud off. "Those were new boots," Becky said. She had bought them at Pay Less(a shoe store). So for the rest of the day, Becky was in her socks.



On the 8th January 1902, a woman, who had lost her way in the darkness, walked over the quay wall into Hedon Haven at Hull. The tide was out, but there was a depth of 6 to 8 feet of soft mud. Ellison, at great risk, went down and got her head clear, holding her in this position for half an hour, when further help came and they were got out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
F Child 10 Susan "Susie" Alltop <gilmerdeaths.htm> died at age: 15
Born: 00-00-1869 in:
Died: 08-30-1884 in:
Buried: in:
Age: 15 yrs
Drowned in quicksand at age 15 years.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name: Alltop, Susan
Sex: F
Date: 30 August 1884
Place: Gilmer Co.
Cause: Drowned
Age: 13 years
Parents: Benjamin and Verona Alltop (*should be Roanna)
Born: Normantown
Occupation: (blank)
Marital Status: (blank)
Reported by: (blank)
Relation: Father

But the fury of the storm was not spent.

Soaked by the downpour, the mud around the Hamilton fairgrounds had become virtual quicksand a day later. When 16-year-old Ada Reynolds ran through the mud, playing with two friends, she sank into the clay muck and drowned.

That was how the storm of '02 - one that had spared babies in their cribs and housewives cooking in their kitchens - claimed its only victim.



The unfavorable weather conditions also caused the death of 12 picnickers who had ventured to the Aksa beach. According to the police, one youth chased a ball into the sea and got trapped in the quicksand while the others perished trying to save him. All of them were in the age group of 15 to 25.

"It is doubtful whether the bodies will be recovered," a police official said. Even a naval helicopter employed for rescue operations could not be deployed due to inclement weather. The Navy, which keeps track of deaths on the Aksa beach round the year, says 30 persons have died here in 2000.



We are also quite concerned about human safety during this process. Snapping turtles the size of hula hoops clearly visible in the sludge pose serious threats to children naturally attracted by the spectacle. Adults as well as children have sunk waist deep into the mire. A seven year old girl attempting to help rescue baby ducks quickly sank past her waist; fortunately a nearby adult was able to pull her to safety.

ALMOST the moment Daffodil sprang into the water, she felt the dog close upon her. He all but caught her; indeed he just reached her floating hair with his nose and nearly seized it; but she sank, her feet touched the bottom, it gave way beneath her, and down, down, she went through soft thick mud, so that, if she had not covered her face with her hands and her apron, her eyes and nose and mouth would have been quite choked up.

John S. Tucker was the first settler on the White River, coming here in the summer of 1882. The first winter they lived at the head of White River, now the Coffee Ranch. In the spring they moved down to Soldier Springs, where they lived while building their log house one-half mile below the springs. They were our nearest neighbors. In the summer of 1883 Tucker's three grandsons were wading in the branch when they sank in quicksand. The second boy was a delicate child, and struggling in the vice-grip of the quicksand, he became very frightened and would say to his brothers, "I'll die, I'll die," and he did. Mr. Tucker was hauling wood, and saw their dog run and look over the bank and bark. When he got up on the hilltop he looked down and saw the children, and went down and found the one boy dead. He got a spade and dug them out, as they were waist deep in the treacherous quicksand. There were no cemeteries at that time and Mr. Tucker went down to the commanding officer at Fort Robinson and got permission to bury the child in the post cemetery. The grave is one of those marked "unknown."

THE WEATHER DIDN'T IMPROVE UNTIL MY UNCLE CAME TO VISIT FROM LONDON (ENGLAND). HE WAS THERE FOR A WEEK AND IT ONLY RAINED 1 DAY. DURING HIS VISIT MY SISTER HAD 3 NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCES. THE FIRST OCCURED WHILE WE WERE RUNNING AROUND CHASING CATTLE. ONE OF THE CALVES WENT INTO ANOTHER PERSONS FIELD AND WE WERE TRYING TO GET IT OUT. WELL IT WASN'T TO BE.... IT RAN THROUGH A HUGE MUD POCKET AND MY SISTER DECIDED TO TRY AND FOLLOW IT. BIG MISTAKE!!! SHE ENDED UP SINKING ALL THE WAY DOWN TO HER WAIST. YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER SCREEM. KATHY AND I MANAGED TO PULL HER OUT THEN SHE LOST HER BOOT. KATHY WENT IN AFTER IT AND ALSO SUNK....BUT ONLY TO HER KNEE. SHE GOT OUT WITHOUT ANY PROBLEMS.

But when the river is dammed up, the silt doesn't flow downstream. Instead it clogs up the river banks and low-lying areas with a layer of thick, wet mud that is a lot like quicksand. In some places the silt is 3 meters (10 feet) deep. It can trap cattle or humans. One girl has died in a nearby village by getting stuck in the silt. We motored upstream along the river, towards a village on the opposite shore. "We just bought this boat with money donated by Arundati Roy, from the proceeds of her book," Pravin explained. Arundati Roy is an Indian writer, and the book, The Greater Common Good, is about the Narmada River. It was what first made me want to visit here, and I recommend reading it

One song which didn't make the album, 'Don't Fall In The Peat Bog', came from a story of two 12-year-olds out playing in the west Midlands, one of whom slipped and sank up to his waist in quicksand. His friend was so terrified of being blamed for the accident that, after running off to get help, he didn't tell anyone for two days
.
"The kid was still alive - even though he had hypothermia - but the thing in my mind was: are they still mates now? When the kid got out of hospital would he say, Well, never mind leaving me there, what are we doing this weekend?

As he was jogging near the unstable landfill, (Daria had warned him not to go across it, because of the possiblity of sinkholes that could be formed from the old landfill's light soil, epecially after it rains), he heard a scream that sounded like a female's.

Responding to it, he rushed onto the landfill, getting some mud on his sneakers and sweatpants, and saw that indeed a sinkhole, about 20 feet in diameter had formed, probably because of the torrential rain from last night, but he could only see on its top edge. He carefully came up to it, and peered over. The sight in front of him made his heart race with fear.

In the middle of the sinkhole, (about 12 feet deep) there was a mud-covered person, possibly the female, struggling like mad to get out. The person, however, thanks to the mud-covered walls that were collapsing as fast as that person was trying to scale them, was making no headway--in fact, it only made it worse by attempting to do so because the person then began to sink in the thick muddy pool that was in the middle of it. The mud was quickly up to the figure's shoulders, and getting worse. The figure screamed again--definitely a female's voice--a teenager. The young woman then began to sink to her neck, gasping for air in the mud.

Looking frantically around outside the pit, Darren saw nothing he could use to lower over the edge and use to pull the young woman out of the sinkhole--the whole landfill was one large muddy bed. He looked back into the sinkhole. the head of the young woman had almost gone under, and her arms were still flailing around--but they were slowing down from exaustion.
DARREN: (Screaming and still looking around:) Try to be still! Moving around only makes it worse! The mud is like quicksand! (Focuses on the young woman:) Do you understand me?!

The mud-covered young woman, apparently so covered now that she couldn't see where the voice had come from, nodded in a direction that was pointed away from Darren for a second, (the mud had kept her from speaking now--it was so thick) but then she started to sink a little more, and then panicked, giving a muffled scream, and the mud started to get higher on her face. Darren looked into the pit and saw something that could help--thanks to the still-collapsing mud walls, a large, long-buried thick tree root was now protruding out from the side of the sinkhole, opposite from him. It was on the side that was a little lower than on Darren's. He rushed to the side where the tree root was sticking out, and carefully slid down the walls, grabbing on the root for support, and effectively putting himself at risk. If the root suddenly fell out, then he and the young woman would be in trouble because the mud-covered walls could keep them both in, for there was no traction to grab onto anything else. He then looked for the head of the young woman.

There were bubbles in the mud where the head once was. The young woman was gone beneath the mud.

Now frantic, he reached over to where the head was, using his right arm and hand to feel around through the thick mud, splashing it around while holding on to the root using his left hand. For a moment, he felt nothing--then his hand grabbed the shoulder of the young woman, and he used his arm to reach under and around her, pulling her out of the mud. The woman was limp. Darren, now himself completely covered with mud, couldn't tell if she was alive. He looked back at the root to see if it had gave, but it didn't--thank God it didn't. He pulled himself and the young woman up the root, and struggled to get both of them out of the sinkhole. For the next 10 seconds or so, it was touch-and-go, but eventually, he got himself and the young woman out. Carrying the young woman in his arms a safe distance away from the edge (in case it collapsed even more, thus possibly causing them to fall back in), he gently laid her on her back, and put his finger on her neck, checking for a pulse--which he did not get. He positioned her head for CPR, breathing in her mouth, and listening for any breathing from her. He did this a few times more, then the young woman suddenly awoke, coughing and spitting up mud out of her lungs, and gasping for air. She fluttered opened her eyes and saw the mud-covered man who had saved her life. She started to sit up.



Lights! Camera! Action! The wife of the vice president of the United States was ready to attack her mud pile with a spade: "I counted eight shovelfuls and, sure enough, up came the glove to flick away the sweat," Davison writes.

"As Mrs. Gore approached, Naylor skillfully helped a television crew clamber up the pile for the perfect shot."

"Mr Naylor spun round to look at the cameras. The stills were whirring, the videos' red lights were on. His face took on the look of a man by a peat fire sipping a cognac and smoking a pipe. Mission accomplished."

[According to the report, there was a temporary distraction when a young girl sank up to her waist in soft mud nearby, which required an emergency rescue by the police and soldiers escorting the second lady.]

Gore Press Secretary Naylor promised reporters that the second lady would be spending the night in a tent. There would be a photo-op, of course.



Indiscriminate tourism desensitises. The enchanted isle of Mont St Michel, a favourite stopover for Limerick holidaymakers travelling from Cherbourg to southern, central and western France, was the setting a few years ago for a real-life horror movie. Tourists at this towering rock of a place crowned by a castle of a monastery crowded the battlements to capture on video the surrounding sea when, almost directly below them, they saw three members of a French family struggling in quicksand.

The tourists focused on the drama, which lasted for several minutes. Two of the French family died. No-one raised the alarm--yet all the while the camcorders kept filming the tragedy.



A new role for the Sector. Two years ago a young lad got stuck at Dornoch Bridge. He was rescued by the Fire Brigade, but it nearly cost him as life as the incoming tide flows very fast in that locality over the mud flats. This led to a re-think in regard to,what if? in other areas of the Sector. A survey was carried out and besides the mud areas at the Dornoch Bridge, we found there were quite a lot of mud areas where potential incidents could occur. After a lengthy process a Mud Rescue Team has been established at Dornoch.

It became fully operational on the 26th October 1999 after a night mud exercise observed by the Deputy District Controller, Bill Macfadyen, from Aberdeen Coastguard Headquarters.



Judith and I moved to Kane, Pennsylvania in 1961 where we stayed for two years to pastor a church. Here we almost lost our daughters for the second time. The church property was next door and we were physically building the church facility. The men in the church had dug the foundation and it began to rain for several days so we had to wait for dry weather. I was away on a ministry trip and in the meantime Judith had come down with pneumonia.

One day our two girls were outside playing and fell into the muddy foundation of the lot next door. They called for help but were too far away for Judith to hear them. They began to sink further and further into the mud. By God's providence, one of the ladies from the church was coming to check on Judith and bring dinner when she heard the girls crying. They had sunk to chin level in the mud and were really scared. When the lady pulled them out, their clothes and shoes were sucked off them. Had the woman come any later, we would have lost both of our daughters in a most gruesome manner. God is faithful! In 1962, our son Bernard was born in Meadville, Pennsylvania.


THEME  The Crucifixion: Shock and Despair

BIBLE REFERENCE  Mark 15:22-41

INTRODUCTION  Something really shocking has happened. It's so terrible that you hardly know what to do, where to go. Everyone's in tears in assembly this morning.  One of your class is dead. One of your friends. You've been together since reception class. Dead.  You can't believe it. It can't be possible.  But it's true. She was playing with friends near the pond in the park. One of them slipped over and went in, got trapped in the mud, started to go under. Someone ran for help, but your friend went into the water to try to haul the girl out. Why did she do it? She didn't have to... Why did she put herself in that situation? The girl she rescued is alright now.  You can't bear to think about it. She had so much life in her and now...  Life is never going to be the same again.  You're going to have to learn to live without her.

KEY VIDEO CLIP  Episode 12a: Caught at the Crossroads

PRAYER  When the world seems black and all hope has faded, When we can do nothing but feel sad and cry, When we cannot see the way forward, May we feel God's presence reach out to us, helping us To take the next step forward. Amen.

MUSIC  'When night arrives' No.92 in The Complete Come and Praise BBC, 1990 ISBN: 0 563 345810



The summer I had thought would never end did just that all to quickly. Looming before me like a giant chasm was the terrifying entity known as school. "But mom I don't feel to good." "Your OK Sonny, it's just the first day of school jitters," Doris explained. We had rehearsed the walk from the house to the bus stop many times. It was only a short distance from the house. From the front sidewalk my mother could watch my trek to the corner. I never knew a city block could seem like a country mile until that first day in the first grade. 

Mud puddles, for me, held a mysterious attraction. They had as incredible ability too relieve stress. Something I was beginning to feel as I approached a rather large crowd of unfamiliar children waiting for the bus. I imagined the boys my uncle had recently educated in the art of being friendly lurking in the crowd waiting to pounce on me. To lessen the tension I decided to jump over the mud puddle near the woods before joining the crowd. 

Much of Washington was built on a swamp. In 1954 it was still possible to encounter quicksand. We lived in an area that had just been developed in just such an area. What is it about six year old children and mud puddles? I don't know of one child of six that goes out of their way to avoid one. In this sense I was an extremely normal child. 

By the time I realized my mistake it was too late. This was no ordinary mud puddle, it was quicksand! The more I struggled the deeper it pulled me into its unrelenting depths. Just in the nick of time a very brave little black girl, in her new school dress, jumped in and risked her life to save me. With the help of some other children we were both soon pulled to safety. 

To this day I don't know who that little girl is but if she reads this book and remembers saving a sickly little white boy from quicksand at a bus stop in Washington D.C. I hope she will give me a call. As we grow older many of the things that happen to us seem like a book we've read or a movie we saw while others remain as vivid as the day they were lived. This is one! 



Gord: LIVE NOW TO POLICE HEADQUARTERS. JOJO CHINTOH HAS AN UPDATE ON A BIZARRE WEEKEND ACCIDENT. JO? 

Jojo: YES, GORD. POLICE HAVE A REAL MYSTERY ON THEIR HANDS AFTER A MAN WAS FOUND STUCK IN THE MUD AROUND THE SCARBOROUGH BLUFFS. WHO HE IS AND HOW HE GOT THERE, NO ONE SEEMS TO KNOW. THE YOUNG MAN, DESCRIBED AS BLACK, IN HIS 20's, WAS PRONOUNCED DEAD AT SUNNYBROOK HOSPITAL AFTER HE WAS RUSHED BY HELICOPTER TO THE HOSPITAL FROM THE SCARBOROUGH BLUFFS YESTERDAY AFTERNOON AROUND 2:45 p.m. POLICE AND PARAMEDICS FOUND HIM UNCONSCIOUS, BURIED DEEP IN MUD. 

WHERE WAS HE? RIGHT HERE SOMEWHERE? 

RIGHT DOWN THERE. 

Jojo: THE MAN'S CLOTHES WERE NEARBY, BUT HE HAD NO IDENTIFICATION. INVESTIGATORS TELL ME THEY KNOW ONE THING FOR SURE: THE YOUNG MAN DID NOT FALL OFF THE BLUFFS. THEY SAY THERE ARE FOOTPRINTS LEADING TO WHERE HE WAS BURIED, AN INDICATION HE WALKED THERE. 

THERE ARE PARTS HERE LIKE QUICKSAND. IT MIGHT LOOK GOOD ON TOP, BUT IF YOU STEP IN IT -- ONCE YOU START SINKING -- IF YOU DON'T HAVE SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO, YOU COULD BE VIRTUALLY STUCK THERE FOR DAYS UNTIL SOMEBODY COMES BY TO HELP YOU OUT. 

Jojo: DO YOU THINK THERE SHOULD BE WARNING SIGNS HERE TELLING PEOPLE NOT TO GO THERE? 

THEY SHOULD HAVE SOMEBODY WALKING THROUGH THERE TO INSPECT THE AREA EVERY SO OFTEN AND POST SIGNS WHERE THEY'RE NEEDED. 

Jojo: POLICE ARE NOW WAITING FOR THE COMPLETION OF AN AUTOPSY BEFORE TAKING THE YOUNG MAN'S FINGERPRINTS, HOPING TO GET SOME CLUES AS TO HIS IDENTITY. THEY'RE ALSO HOPING THE AUTOPSY RESULTS WILL ANSWER SOME KEY QUESTIONS AS TO WHAT HAPPENED HERE. IN THE MEANTIME, THEY HAVE ISSUED THE FOLLOWING DESCRIPTION: MALE, BLACK, ABOUT 25 YEARS OLD, 5 FOOT 8 TO 5 FOOT 10, 140 TO 150 POUNDS WITH THE TATTOO OF AN EAGLE ON HIS UPPER RIGHT ARM, AND A TATTOO OF "VICTOR" ON HIS LEFT FOREARM. NOW, IF YOU KNOW WHO HE IS, GIVE 42 DIVISION A CALL AT 808-4200. I'M JOJO CHINTOH AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SCARBOROUGH BLUFFS FOR "CityPulse." 



YOUNG EDMONTON GIRL FOUND HERSELF UP TO HER WAIST IN TROUBLE YESTERDAY. 

THE TEN YEAR OLD WAS PLAYING ON A TRAIL ABOVE A MUDDY CREEK BANK, NEAR THE SNOW

VALLEY SKI CLUB.  SHE LOST HER FOOTING, TUMBLED DOWN A STEEP SLOPE AND ENDED UP

STUCK IN THE MUD.  FIREFIGHTERS WERE CALLED IN AND HAD TO USE A LADDER AND

ROPES TO PULL THE GIRL TO SAFETY. SHE WAS TAKEN TO HOSPITAL AND TREATED FOR

HYPOTHERMIA.



Local President Ed Pinkelman praises Ecker's work on behalf of the membership and the Boy Scouts. "He's truly a hero in my book," Pinkelman said.

Ecker is assistant scoutmaster for Troop 160 in Kansas City, Kans., and serves as chair of the KAW district of the National Eagle Scout Association in Wyandotte and Leavenworth counties.

Damien, 15, just recently became an Eagle Scout and holds a Scout Medal for Heroism with minimal risk to self, for having helped saved the life of a fellow Scout who got trapped in a quicksand-like muddy swamp along the Missouri River near Fort Osage.

"Damien was able to pull him out of the muck using tree branches and ropes," his father says proudly. Damien also is a yellow belt in tae kwon do.



The pond, which is designed to hold rainwater from Liberty Hills and not spill over into the Royal Oaks subdivision next door, is about 100 yards wide with a 20-foot deep drain at its center. It was, according to documents filed when Little began construction of the subdivision six years ago, to be left in tip-top shape so when the bond was up and the land was officially turned over to the homeowners it could be maintained with ``standard'' mowing equipment. 

Instead, Moyer and Biedebach claim, the area is too steep and the grass is too high to mow, rushing waterfalls during hard rains have caused deep ruts in the earth enough to twist the ankle of a child who attempts a shortcut and its center drain has a hole big enough for a child to climb into. Biedebach has pictures of her 7-year-old's clothes from the day she had to pull him out of chest-deep mud. 



I went out fishin' on the Bow River. I'd have been 14 or 15 years old. At one of the corners of the river at a high enbankment I was fishin' from the shore and was standing on a high clay sort of a shelf and there was a sandy bottom out in front of me. I was wearing gum boots so I stepped off into the water so I could get my line out further. And my foot started to sink into the sand. 

When I went to pull it out, my other foot sunk down in, and everytime I tried to move, I kept sinking deeper and deeper. It turned out I was standing on some quicksand. 

Well, fortunately all that I had to do, trapped in this quicksand, was to sit back on the shore and then try to get my feet out. Well, there was no way. Not with my boots on anyway, so I wound up pullin' and pullin and finally I got my feet free. But I never did see those boots again. 

The part for me that was funny was walkin' back and getting on the bus with no boots.



Recently LT. ROBERT LOGAN and the men from No. 2 Company were called upon to make a daring rescue on Melton Hill Lake. A young boy had fallen through thin ice attempting to rescue his dog. The dog and the lad had broken through the ice and were stuck as they struggled to wade out of the waist deep mud. Using a heavy rope Bob started across the ice. He also fell through the ice into the mud. It took a great effort to pull Bob and the boy and dog out of the icy lake. Fortunately the three only suffered mild hypothermia. 

The Mud: One Scout (there is always one!) attempted to walk through some rather sticky looking mud, and unfortunately he stopped half way through allowing himself to sink rather too deep. Yes, he was well and truly stuck, much to the amusement of leaders and scouts. (Not all the leaders - someone had to get him out!) Our only regret was that no one had a camera. 

The boy down the street dug a pit, in his yard, 
four feet deep, and watered it, 
and asked us girls, one by one, 
to come over and play, to stand on the edge 
and close our eyes, and he pushed us into 
the pit. The mud was glossy, he seemed 
hardly to notice us, he just 
wanted to push another one in. 

Raining 
AGAIN 

That is whats happening to Jessica. 

In a field she was walking 

She sighed 

"Why?" she said 

She was miles away from home trugding in deep mud. 

This is way weird, she thought. 

She looked around, 

All she cound see was mud she seemed to be in a ever long field, no end. 

She stepped hard in a some mud. 

She sank, she saw the mud enveloping over her blocking out the light, choking her. 

She gasped, and sank into cold mud and everything went black. 

She woke up. 

Only a dream, she thought, it was too bizzare! 

She was surrounded by wood, In her best clothes! 

A flower in her hand. 

There was a gold plaque in front of her nose, it read:- 

JESSICA WOODLOCK R.I.P 

FOUND MILES FROM HOME 
BY A FARMER PLOUGHING HIS FIELD 
BURIED UNDER 10FT OF MUD. 
GOD BLESS HER ON HER 
JOURNEY TO HEAVEN. 

No nightmare at all! 



At York's hollow the water was down a bit and their was only a dozen or so ducks in sight. The Ibis were all up the big tree on the island in the middle of the pond. A local lady told me that about thirty five years ago two school children got stuck in quicksand and were drowned. I know that the city council drained the area about two years ago and excavated the bottom, tidied up the island and put in an overflow drain to stop the access road washing away. There are nice lawns all around now and a barbecue area with a sheltered table and seats. The winter sun isn't to hot (18c) so Jet and me sat in the shade under a tree. 

STROUDSBURG ó The American Red Cross of Monroe County recognized heroism and just plain good deeds Thursday during the group's 81st annual dinner.

About 80 attended the event, held at the Best Western Pocono Inn. They honored children and adults for saving lives and praised volunteers for many hours of devoted service.

Cub Scout Justin Rogers wore his uniform Thursday to receive an award for extraordinary personal action. On May 21, 1997 he helped keep his 2-year-old brother Dylan afloat in nose-deep mud after Dylan slipped into it near Zacharias Pond in East Stroudsburg. Justin hung onto Dylan's hand until the boys' father arrived and helped them to safety.



........Walter, Tommy, Mom, and I drove off. Mom had grown up here. She had fished when young, and years in the States hadn't dulled her abilities nor weakened her joy in the pursuit.

........ After nearly an hour, we stopped beside a muddy plain, the length of an irregular football field, as we stood in our end zone by the roadside. The area was bounded left and right by indifferent alder bushes, some of which had grown into harshly virescent trees. The black-brown expanse was clotted with coarse, green tufts of wiry-bladed swamp grass above which were wraiths of frail mist. At the further edge was a heavily flowing river, so mud-murky that it seemed an extension of the land until one observed the intensity of its current manifested by only a ripple here and there.

........ Not our customary, sun-sparkled, amiable stream, this was an ominous Canadian force, surging forward with fearful quietude. Its edges were not flat, friendly banks but oozing slopes without purchase or handhold. I imagined that if I fell into this primal momentum, chilling because there was no malignancy here, just ineluctability, I would be lost. Scattered logs, escapees from log runs I guessed, were clutched by the bank mud at one end, angled out down-current at the other. The pastel relieving the bleakness of black, brown, and gray was hostile green.

........ We removed our gear from the trunk. As we approached the mucky slope to the mud flat, Walter gave us instructions.

........ "Where you're going is down to the water. Big trout there, and you won't have to work to catch them. You will have to work along the way.

........ "See those bunches of grass? Step only on them. Don't step in the mud, it's deep. The river backs up here often, floods the area, water seeps down through the surface soil. When you get to the edge, try to walk out on one of those logs, and get your trout."

........ The mud was daunting; however, its danger seemed to be that we would sink a bit, get muddy, soil the car's upholstery. We started off, I the last voyager. The clumps of thick, rough grass were actually small mounds, some six inches across, a few nearly two feet. They were inches up from the mud's surface, as if they wished to be dissociated from it, escape it altogether, but their visible, supporting roots held them in place. The distance between the clumps varied, from under one foot to three and more.

........ Clutching my rod, tackle box, and the large can of worms, I began. Tommy, well ahead of me, unencumbered and foresighted, had stuffed a small packet of hooks and weights into his pocket and wrapped some worms in a piece of paper bag he evidently found in Walter's trunk.

........ I went along easily for a few hops, charting a neat course to the water. Then I landed on a lonely tuft, three feet from its nearest friend in a forward direction. The mounds afforded no space for any running start, so one had to leap from a stationary position. I teetered on this mound, a parody of a flabby, drunken man with a middle ear infection attempting to cross a stream by hopping rocks. I could not propel myself to the next tuft, and I would not turn back.

........ Impulse or rationality, I took a middle course. So what? I'd get a little muddy. Everybody expected it anyway. I could joke it away. I scissored my legs widely, right foot first, and took a step. Onto the mud, into the mud with an immediacy that allowed no time for emotions. This was my first experience of the complete absence of fear facing danger, that cold at the center which provides space for evaluation and likely reaction. Passivity was the sole response indicated here. 

........Immersion to my thighs seemed instantaneous, but then the downward movement became slow motion, as if the mud wished me to experience each sensation separately and in minute detail. The cold moved upward over my abdomen. Random thoughts filtered through: I hadn't really anticipated getting muddy up to here. Damn, the souvenir photos in my tan shirt pocket would be ruined. The sensation was akin to gradually slipping down into a bath long sitting in a chilly room at home, but the clinging, viscous substance was not watery, yet an almost welcome embrace. My arms were still on the surface, as if I were floating in a neighbor's pool in early autumn.

........ I recalled that in films when a person is being sucked down in quicksand, his friends shouted "Stay perfectly still. You'll sink faster if you move."

........ When I first saw that scene, I thought the advice silly. I would be thrashing and flailing like a beached octopus, but I didn't. Staying still was quite easy. Movement would have required effort.

........ The absence of panic was unique and undeniable as the mud coldly reached my neck. Why am I not screaming, paralyzed with fear? Instinctively I gulped a breath before the slime closed over my mouth, nose, eyes.

........ Mud unctuously crept over the top of my head, drawing up hair to points I felt, and still I descended. My eyes remained open, and before them eased brown, oozing mud; air bubbled up in ordered strings from my passing. An eerie, silent world for an eleven year old. I looked at the root tendrils of the grass as I passed. My ears registered an occasional, remote pop and quiet sibilance, almost friendly.

........ Since all movement seemed slow, I could not determine how deeply I had sunk until my rate slowed. The bubbles and the ooze continued before my eyes, and the clammy embrace remained. I must be deep, I thought, this muck was beginning to press more heavily upon my chest. I recognized, in fact, that my need for breath was becoming urgent.

........ The intensifying urge for respiration pressed upon me for several beats, and for the first time I felt the clanging of panic. Soon I must have air, instead I would breathe muck. My senses said I was stationary, now moving slightly upward. Slowly I oozed or was sucked toward the surface. The same bubbles and tendrils moved in my vision, but now in a reverse direction. I would have been joyful, even waved to them, but the burning in my lungs and around my ribs consumed me. 

........My padded buoyancy overcame the mud's power. I gained momentum and broke the surface like fat, cork bobber suddenly released from its fish by a broken line. I shot above the mud to my shoulders and remained there, gulping air frenziedly.

........ Walter and my mother were near. Tommy was, I discovered later, smugly fishing from one of the logs. He said then, 

........"Well, what could I do anyway? Walter was there." 

........Walter was shouting,

........ "For God's sake don't move your arms or legs."

........ No doubt he had seen the same films, but where was he when my head was feet under mud? Surely he was frightened for my safety, though I did consider, cynically cool, that his status in the family and as a guide would be irreparably damaged if he lost a fat nephew on a simple trek to a muddy-banked river. 

........He got me within reach by extending his rod, and he and Mom hauled me up onto their large tuft.

........ "Oh, boy, I should have told you about this quick mud, but I didn't want scare you kids, and there is so little of it here. Just your luck to find it. Let's go home and get you cleaned and straightened up. You're gonna be fine.

........" Mom agreed in a quavery voice, but I resisted, newly assertive after my ordeal. There is something to be said about the formation of character by trauma - not much, but something. I wobbled down to the water and managed to get out onto the log where Tommy was casting.

........ "For Chris' sake don't tip this over, you fat bastard.

........" Not over exactly, but on my first cast I caused the log to wobble slightly in place. We splashed to the water and submerged, then bobbed up. In the lee of the log, near shore, we were unthreatened by the current. Water I knew, having been under so many times; it was almost a friend. Besides, it washed the mud off.



MARYSVILLE -- Jeff Standish was listening to his scanner on the evening of March 22 when he heard about a 13-year-old boy stranded in mud along Allen Creek. Standish got his canoe and paddled out to the boy to help rescue him.

Tonight, Standish and seven others will be recognized at the Marysville City Council meeting for their heroic efforts, the Marysville Fire Department reported.

The ceremony will take place at 7 p.m. at the Marysville Public Safety Building, 1635 Grove St.


The Wrong Shortcut 

Your shoes are slowly getting wetter as you stand there balancing on one foot. Mud drips off the shoe you have just pulled out. The oasis of grass just ahead of you beckons to you.... 

You peer carefully at the earth in front of you, seeking a safe place to put your foot. You slowly lower your foot on to a tuft of weeds, carefully transfering your weight on to this foot. Little by little you lift your other foot. 

You judge the distance to the grass. If you can place this foot midway, the next step will put you on the grass. Your eyes are drawn to a spot halfway to the grass, it looks lighter in color. It would appear to be drier and therefore harder... You step on to it, and it seems to hold your weight. Now you need to quickly lift your back foot and swing it to the grass. 

Lifting your back foot off the weeds, your weight shifts to your front foot. Just as you begin to relax, you feel the dry mud crack beneath your foot. Mud oozes up and around and over your school shoes. A cold hand seems to close around your heart, as the air rushes from your lungs. You can feel yourself starting to panic. 

You teeter back and forth, not knowing what to do with your foot. You can feel your center of balance shift, and with a feeling of dread you realize you are beginning to fall. With a loud plop you land in the middle of wet slimey mud, instantly the mud oozes around and over your legs. You feel yourself being sucked down into the mud! You look around desperately for help, but find no one nearby to call to. 

As you sink ever deeper you begin to know with deep certainty that it is growing to late for help. With a feeling of deep regret you realize that you shouldn't have taken this shortcut home from school ! 



Adult Good Samaritan: Fishing buddies Lance Strash, Dan Driskill and Ken White crossed a river on ropes to rescue two young girls who had fallen down an embankment and were trapped in mud and debris in April.

Reaching the pond, we saw that the ice had begun to break up and the pond was practically at a point where it was overflowing its banks. The two brooks that flowed out of the pond were high, filled with cold rushing water. Deciding to follow Davies Brook out, we began to trudge through the remaining snow alongside the brook. About a mile and a half from town, the brook opened into a muddy pool. This pool had never been there before, and being inquisitive boys, we naturally had to check it out. It wasnít long before one of us discovered that the mud was extremely bouncy. You could run and jump from the snow, landing on a muddy trampoline and bounce clear across to the other side. Quickly, the entire surface was filled with laughing boys each attempting to outdo the other in acrobatic feats on the mud.

         Finally, tiring of the jumping around I stopped and stood out in the mud and watched my friends jump around. I didn't even notice what had happened until Dwayne yelled out "Matt, you're sinking!"

         Looking down, I realized I had sunk about a foot into the mud and then with mounting panic realized I couldn't pull my feet out. Screaming that I was stuck the other boys rushed over and began to pull on my arms. Dwayne was closest and he tried to pull me out, but then he too began to sink. The other boys quickly left the surface of the mud and began pulling Dwayne out since he was closer to the solid ground outside of the mud pool. Dwayne couldnít keep helping me out, and by the time he was out, I had sunk up to my armpits in the semi-frozen mud. Amidst the panic and crying (I think every boy there was crying at this point), I was certain that I was about to drown as I could no longer even move at all in the mud. Somehow, and Iím still not sure how, the boys managed to pull me out. My rescue required the sacrifice of my winter boots, socks and mittens to the depths of the muddy pool, but I was pulled out soaked and scared to the bank. I still had to walk about a mile and a half through the snow in bare feet to reach the closest house. I think I cried with every step even after my brother helped me put his mittens on my feet and helped shoulder me down the path.



One day at Mountain Creek- near Mooloolabah, on the coast in the south east corner of Queensland, Australia - two students, Laura and Patrick, were on their way to school. Mountain Creek used to all beautiful wallum heath and paperbark swamps but now lots of houses and roads are being built. They were walking past the swampy area in the low part of the school playground when one of them, Laura, got a bit too close and slipped over in the mud, spllaaatt! and went sliding along into the deepest part of the swamp. 

Mud went splashing up her legs. There were bits of grass and slime everywhere. She even saw a leech start to climb onto her hand. She went, "Aaaaaaaahhhhh!" 

Her boyfriend Patrick said, "Laura. Are you OK?" 

She said, "I think so," but as she started to stand up in the mud she started to slip again and Patrick reached out to grab her but he fell in to. He went, "Eeeeeeeeeeh" and slid into the middle with Laura. Every time they tried to stand up they fell over again and got more and more covered in mud and deeper and deeper into the swamp. 


It was one evening the following spring when a neighbor came walking into the yard with his lantern and spear and asked if I would like to go with him. I expect I was invited so he'd have someone to hold the lantern for him. Mr. Miller and I tramped up and down the creeks where we usually went but the fish didn t seem to be running. I had a horse and rode over most of the area within a five mile radius of home. so I knew about a creek we hadn't yet tried.

We drove the few miles to the farm 1 told him about. We parked and went to the house to ask permission of the owner s to fish their creek. No one was home, but I convinced Mr. Miller they wouldn't mind if we fished there. I led the way as we walked behind the barn and across a field to the creek that lay at the edge of the woods. I remembered one of the boys that lived there had once told me there was quick sand on their property. I thought he was just trying to scare me because when I asked where it was he would never show me.

We found the quicksand. Or Mr. Miller did. He was in up to his thighs before he knew it. I tried my best to pull him free but didn t have the strength. I managed to pull a branch down from a tree for him to grab hold of to ease some of his weight off' the mud. Then I set off at a run for the house, praying someone had come home. But the place was as vacant and quiet as it had been. I found a shovel in a shed and hurried back to where the neighbor by now had sunk in to his hips. I shoveled the mud away from his legs while he clawed at it frantically with his hands. When we could finally see his knees, I grabbed hold of him under his arms and pulled, he gripped the branch and tried to hoist himself up. Though now only calf deep, that thick gummy muck held him in a firm grip. After several tries we got him onto solid ground, one very frightened and thankful man.

Until then, I had visualized quicksand as a thin, soupy mud one sank into and out of sight very quickly. Instead, it was more like heavy cement that had started to harden. Once in it, it was like wearing cinder block; boots. I'll never forget the terror on my neighbor's face when he found himself trapped in it. From that night on I've had a new respect for the dangers of quicksand.



Kelly, Age 10
Michigan USA

Hi, my name is Kelly.When I was 6, my dog, Sam and I were walking in 
the woods when I fell in a patch of quicksand. I was sinking in it when Sam 
ran through the bush for help. I thought he was betraying me! Two minutes 
later he came back with 2 forest rangers. I was sunk up to my shoulders. 
The forest rangers pulled me out.The forest rangers told me about my dog's 
bravery. He saved my life! 



Quicksand
By Micaela Highfill 

She walks through the jungle 
bravely putting one foot in front of the other 
Fearful of the horrid wild animals. 

She makes one false move 
takes a step too large 
and too heavy for the ground beneath her. 

She feels her foot go under 
as the sand sucks her in, 
She tries desperately to remove it to no avail. 

She remembers what someone told her once 
Stay still, relax, and wait, 
for someone will come to rescue you. 

She waits and she waits 
hands down and calm 
as she sinks further and further into the muck 

Finally as her head submerges 
she realizes when youíre 
sinking you have to ask for help not just expect it. 



A "day of play" turned scary for one little girl -- when she got stuck in the mud!

     Her story -- next on First News at 11.

MUD

 A 13-year old New York girl spent more than an hour--- stuck in mud -- up to her armpits!

 She and a friend were playing near a construction site -- when she slipped into a mud-hole.

 Rescue workers pulled her free, by pumping water into the ground surrounding her -- and breaking the suction that kept her stuck.

 Tonite she's suffering from hypothermia -- but is in satisfactory condition.


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