“Why are there so many dead fish in the sand next to that wet garbage bag and an old glass Coke bottle?”
“I’m not sure, but there’s definitely a lot of it!” my dad said surprised.
“I hear the foghorn again. That must be the barge,” I figured.
“There it is!” my dad said, pointing to the slow moving, long beige boat. The barge was carrying fully-loaded containers piled so high with rock that they cleared the walls of the containers by a good two feet. There was a captain’s box at the back of the barge with a huge headlight on top for good warning that the barge was coming at night.
Nearby, the Illinois River Dam sounded like pouring rain going off a 100 foot cliff, over and over, day and night. The light grey, concrete bridge stretched over two narrow water canals and the Illinois River Dam. A single lane dirt road ran under the bridge and disappeared into the forest on the opposite end of the bridge. Between the bridge and the canal lay a large area of wet grass, perfect for Capture the Flag. At the end of the bridge, there was a gas station at the right and a little town with a burger place and an antique store.
After the barge cleared our vision, I noticed that I was standing on my own, looking at the river, and my dad was calling my name.
“Hey, Ry! Come over and look at this block of wood!”
“I’ll be right over, Dad!” I called as I dashed over, my rain boots squeaking. I looked at what my dad was pointing at and it was a block of brown, etched wood a foot from the water’s edge.
“Do you want me to get it for you?” I asked.
“Sure! If you can reach it. It will look great on the mantle once we dry it out and put a new finish on it.” I had to get this for dad. He loves to collect all kinds of interesting wood and stones. I could hear the ‘want’ in his voice.
“I’ll be able to reach it. Don’t worry, Dad, it's just wet sand.”
I walked over and stuck my boot into what I thought was the wet sand. PLOP! SQUISH! Until I started to sink…..
“Hey, Dad!” I called with a little worry in my voice. “I don’t think that this is just wet sand. I think it’s a form of quicksand!”
“Okay, buddy. Don’t panic, just come back and don’t worry about the block.” But I wasn’t going to go all the way back after I was almost arms-length from the block, so I continued with caution and kept in the back of my mind what I had learned on the Weather Channel. If I start to sink, I should wiggle to get one leg loose at a time and not panic, otherwise I would just sink deeper.
I moseyed along at the speed of a sloth.
“Easy up with my left, easy down with my left and on to the right …” over and over again. Five minutes passed and I was finally close enough to reach the block and take a sigh of relief.
“Here, dad!” I called. “Catch!” I tossed the surprisingly light block to him and then slowly turned around and repeated the slow process back to the beach until I was back on solid ground. Thankful that I didn’t sink further into the mysterious sand, my dad and I then went off to continue our hike to end the day. Even today after sinking ankle deep in quicksand to get that block, it has been refinished and now proudly sits on our mantle as a memory of what an achievement it was to get it.
Maybe the next time I see a nice looking wood block in wet sand, I should take the time to test the sand to see if it’s quicksand before just walking into it.
“I’m not sure, but there’s definitely a lot of it!” my dad said surprised.
“I hear the foghorn again. That must be the barge,” I figured.
“There it is!” my dad said, pointing to the slow moving, long beige boat. The barge was carrying fully-loaded containers piled so high with rock that they cleared the walls of the containers by a good two feet. There was a captain’s box at the back of the barge with a huge headlight on top for good warning that the barge was coming at night.
Nearby, the Illinois River Dam sounded like pouring rain going off a 100 foot cliff, over and over, day and night. The light grey, concrete bridge stretched over two narrow water canals and the Illinois River Dam. A single lane dirt road ran under the bridge and disappeared into the forest on the opposite end of the bridge. Between the bridge and the canal lay a large area of wet grass, perfect for Capture the Flag. At the end of the bridge, there was a gas station at the right and a little town with a burger place and an antique store.
After the barge cleared our vision, I noticed that I was standing on my own, looking at the river, and my dad was calling my name.
“Hey, Ry! Come over and look at this block of wood!”
“I’ll be right over, Dad!” I called as I dashed over, my rain boots squeaking. I looked at what my dad was pointing at and it was a block of brown, etched wood a foot from the water’s edge.
“Do you want me to get it for you?” I asked.
“Sure! If you can reach it. It will look great on the mantle once we dry it out and put a new finish on it.” I had to get this for dad. He loves to collect all kinds of interesting wood and stones. I could hear the ‘want’ in his voice.
“I’ll be able to reach it. Don’t worry, Dad, it's just wet sand.”
I walked over and stuck my boot into what I thought was the wet sand. PLOP! SQUISH! Until I started to sink…..
“Hey, Dad!” I called with a little worry in my voice. “I don’t think that this is just wet sand. I think it’s a form of quicksand!”
“Okay, buddy. Don’t panic, just come back and don’t worry about the block.” But I wasn’t going to go all the way back after I was almost arms-length from the block, so I continued with caution and kept in the back of my mind what I had learned on the Weather Channel. If I start to sink, I should wiggle to get one leg loose at a time and not panic, otherwise I would just sink deeper.
I moseyed along at the speed of a sloth.
“Easy up with my left, easy down with my left and on to the right …” over and over again. Five minutes passed and I was finally close enough to reach the block and take a sigh of relief.
“Here, dad!” I called. “Catch!” I tossed the surprisingly light block to him and then slowly turned around and repeated the slow process back to the beach until I was back on solid ground. Thankful that I didn’t sink further into the mysterious sand, my dad and I then went off to continue our hike to end the day. Even today after sinking ankle deep in quicksand to get that block, it has been refinished and now proudly sits on our mantle as a memory of what an achievement it was to get it.
Maybe the next time I see a nice looking wood block in wet sand, I should take the time to test the sand to see if it’s quicksand before just walking into it.