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I was the last person to see man who suffered 'worst death imaginable' - this is why I couldn't save him
I was the last person to see man who suffered 'worst death imaginable' - this is why I couldn't save him

Daily Mail​

time10-08-2025

  • General
  • Daily Mail​

I was the last person to see man who suffered 'worst death imaginable' - this is why I couldn't save him

A rescuer who was the last person to see a man suffer the 'worst death imaginable' after he became stuck upside down in a cave has revealed the heartbreaking reason why he could not save him. John Jones died after becoming trapped for more than 24 hours in the Nutty Putty Cave in Utah in 2009 after he and his friends decided to explore it. The 26-year-old medical student, who considered himself a keen and experienced explorer, was described to have 'essentially crawled into his own grave' upon his death more than 15 years ago. After setting out to explore the extremely tight 'Birth Canal' area of the cave, John, who stood at 6ft tall, took a wrong turn and mistakenly entered a tiny passageway head-first which measured just 10 inches by 18 inches and became stuck. Trapped in the crevice and unable to turn or move backwards, the 26-year-old father endured '27 hours of claustrophobic hell' while his brother Josh could only watch on helplessly. Cave explorer and YouTuber Brandon Kowallis was the last person to see John alive and despite his tireless efforts to save him, he explained how the rescue mission was impossible from the start. Brandon has spoken about the doomed ordeal in a blog post, recalling the mission on November 25, 2009 at Nutty Putty. By the time he joined, rescuers had already been working to save John for several hours, but he was 'quickly going downhill'. Having been stuck upside down for several hours, the blood in his body that normally flowed to his feet had instead rushed to his head. He was starting to have trouble breathing and his heart was beating twice as fast in order to counteract the gravity to push the continuous flow of blood out of his brain. 'He was in and out of consciousness and had started talking about seeing angels and demons around him', the cave explorer explained. Brandon was asked to crawl down the impossibly tight shaft to check on John, along with fellow rescuer Debbie. What he found haunts him to this day. Brandon could hear a gurgling breath - an indication that fluid was building up in John's lungs, and his legs were twitching violently. 'It looked very bleak. I wondered if it was even possible to get him beyond this point', Brandon said. The rescuer studied the rigging that had been set up by other emergency workers and John's position, trying to find hope. But the reality was cruel. 'It looked like he could only be lifted another foot or two in his current position because of where the webbing was anchored around his knees. After a foot or two his feet would hit the ceiling. And then once he reached the ceiling, there was no way to tilt him to a horizontal position', Brandon explained. 'And then once he reached the ceiling, there was no way to tilt him to a horizontal position. He would have to do it himself, but he was now unconscious. 'And even if we could get him into a horizontal position, he would then have to maneuver the most difficult sections of the passage he was trapped in. 'If he were conscious and had his full strength there was a minute chance he could possibly do it. But even if that was the case it looked grim'. The only remaining solution was to use a jackhammer to widen the narrow tunnel - a desperate, brutal option that could have left John with shattered bones. 'He would be cut up very badly and probably end up with several broken bones, but if nothing else would work, that seemed like the best option.' Brandon spent hours chipping and hammering away at the rocks, but even that proved difficult. 'My estimate was anywhere from three to seven days to get back to where John was'. During this time, a radio was brought down so that John's family could speak to him. 'I think it was his father, mother, and wife who spoke to him, telling him that they loved him and were praying for him and that his father had given him a blessing. 'His wife mentioned a feeling of peace, that everything would be OK. She talked to him about 5 to 10 minutes before I told her that we needed to get back to working at getting him out', Brandon said. Rescuers had to think of their next step, but just before midnight struck, Brandon was asked to check John's vitals, and noticed how his body was close to the temperature of the rocky walls of the cave. He reported his findings to a paramedic who was able to get down to John. 'John Edward Jones was pronounced dead at 11:52, I believe it was.' John's death was put down as cardiac arrest and suffocation. Although John's wife Emily insisted that her husband's body be recovered, it was soon decided that it was too dangerous to recover it. To prevent a future accident the entrance to the passage was collapsed with controlled explosives and filled with concrete. The entrance to the cave was turned into a makeshift memorial for the family with a plaque also installed in memory of John. John left behind his wife Emily and their baby daughter Lizzie. Emily was also expecting their second child at the time of the accident. A baby boy was born the following year who she named after his father.

1 Surprising Hobby That Can Induce A ‘Flow State,' By A Psychologist
1 Surprising Hobby That Can Induce A ‘Flow State,' By A Psychologist

Forbes

time19-05-2025

  • Forbes

1 Surprising Hobby That Can Induce A ‘Flow State,' By A Psychologist

Caving is often considered a risky hobby, but once you understand its appeal, it starts to make ... More sense. Here's why, for some people, the need to explore caves is so rooted in the flow state. Most of us have heard of the concept of a flow state. Generally, we think of it as a side effect of doing something we love. But what if it's the other way around? How much of what we choose to do is actually driven by the desire to enter a state of flow? In 2009, John Edward Jones became trapped in Utah's Nutty Putty Cave. Wedged headfirst in a narrow crevice 400 feet under the ground, rescuers spent over 24 hours trying to free him. But their efforts failed. He died where he was stuck, and the cave was permanently sealed with concrete, his body entombed inside. Jones had been caving since he was 4 years old. For those like him, caving, or spelunking, the exploration of tight, pitch-black, often waterlogged underground passageways is a calling that seems to blur the line between physical endurance and psychological need. But not every caving expedition is a death-defying mission, and Jones's case is an exception, not a rule. In fact, much of the modern caving community is organized and operates within a tightly regulated framework. Serious cavers train extensively, use specialized equipment and often descend in teams with established safety protocols. Many routes are mapped and well-studied, and some caves are even developed as tourist attractions with guided tours and fixed lighting. Still, there's a crucial difference between recreational caving and the kind of high-commitment, demanding exploration pursued by dedicated cavers like Jones. The difference between travel and tourism is subtle, but we all feel it. One implies curiosity, challenge and even transformation. The other suggests comfort, itineraries and souvenirs. That contrast holds underground too. There's a stark divide between casual cave tourism and serious cave exploration. Tourists might walk through lit pathways in show caves with a guide and a handrail. But true explorers — often called speleologists — operate on the fringe of tourism altogether. They seek out raw, technically demanding environments where routes are sometimes unmarked, conditions unpredictable and the experience both physically and mentally consuming. A December 2024 paper on the Polish caving community draws this line clearly. It found that the people who take on cave challenges outside of mass tourism aren't necessarily in it to tick a box. Their motivations are internal: a mix of aesthetic wonder, cognitive curiosity, emotional intensity and a search for the unknown. While many adventure sports are framed around showmanship or risk — think downhill mountain biking or skydiving — dedicated caving is not loud or aesthetic. If anything, it's a grueling ordeal that forces you to contort your body so it passes through gaps human bodies were never designed to pass through. The dark environment also makes it a private pursuit shaped by solitude, silence and a kind of intimacy with the Earth. Interestingly, the paper suggests that while tourists in popular caves are often motivated by escape, novelty or social connection, serious cavers are more likely to chase a flow state, where even time can stand still. One of the biggest reasons caving scares people off is claustrophobia. Imagine being required to squeeze through rock passages with barely enough space to breathe, let alone move. It triggers a kind of primal panic. It isn't fear in the classic sense, but a rising anxiety. But for the few who fall in love with the pastime, this discomfort eventually gives way to something else: total focus. Psychologists call it a flow state, a mental zone where you're fully immersed in what you're doing. Time warps, self-awareness fades and every movement becomes instinctive yet deliberate, shaped by the cave itself. For someone who can't imagine finding pleasure in putting themselves in perilous situations just to achieve a state of flow, caving can seem unnecessary. The risk appears wildly out of sync with the reward. But many cavers are actively involved in cave-conservation efforts, mapping uncharted cave systems or studying underground geology and biology. Whatever the reward is, it's rarely external. Interestingly, research suggests that individuals who are more prone to experiencing flow states may also see greater health benefits, including reduced risk of cardiovascular disease. It's also worth noting that for most of us, achieving a flow state while wedged between rocks isn't exactly likely. This is because what puts each of us in a flow state varies by individual. It also varies by skill level. Here's one way to think about it in the context of a much more common hobby — running. Nearly 15% of the U.S. population runs, but not everyone experiences a state of flow doing it. When your skills are still in the state of development, flow will feel harder to achieve. Once skill becomes muscle memory, it unlocks a new level of appreciation for the sport. That's why experienced runners are more likely to associate running with flow than beginners. So, flow is unlocked at the intersection of skill, challenge and intrinsic motivation. And that's the takeaway. Caving is ultimately about what happens to the mind and body when the noise of the outside world disappears. Most of us won't find a flow state deep inside a cave, but we're all looking for it somewhere. And when we do find it, whether on a trail, behind a camera or deep in a project that drives us, we begin to understand why someone might risk everything just to feel that focused, wordless clarity over and over. Some people achieve a flow state by pushing past fear, embracing silence and finding meaning in the unknown. Take the science-backed Openness To Experience Scale to find out where you stand.

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