The Origin of Mud

A more serious observation!

The article doesn't clearly distinguish between mud and silt. In fact, it implies that they are the same, and for the purposes of the thesis they advance (that terrestrial plant life changed river and coastal conditions greatly), it isn't important. But silt is the ultimate result of mechanical abrasion, resulting in extremely fine-grained particles of resistant material (usually silica). Mud includes clay particles, which result from the chemical alteration of minerals such as feldspars. Clay minerals have vastly different properties from silts; they are cohesive, they are adsorbent and so on. In fact, mud (without terrestrial plants) can be as cohesive as silt with.

So, next time you bring up a lump of nice, glutinous mud on your anchor, spare a thought for the mineralogical, petrological, biological and physical processes that resulted in this bounty!
 
I've often wondered why some 'fine alluvial matter' would stick together, while something seemingly similar would not, and mistakenly guessed that it had something to do with the size of the particles.

I'd also always imagined that decayed (or otherwise) particles of vegetable (and some animal) matter would also be a significant component of mud (but, mysteriously, apparently not sand).

Is mud always brown? (If the East Coast tourist board could only somehow treat it so it turned a jollier colour, they'd be on to a winner.)
 
Mud is a very broad term - geologically we talk about claystone and siltstone with 'mud' being a bit of a coverall term. Mean grain size distinguishes one from the other (silts are coarser than clays), a siltstone can contain some clay, likewise a claystone can contain some silt, it is the relative proportions that dictate the classification. You can also get carbonate muds too - in the Bahamas; the Chalk would have been one once too. In the literature the terminology of various units is all over the place - the London Clay Formation (e.g. the cliffs on Sheppey) should really be renamed the London Silt in terms of grain size but I can't see it happening.. Muds can and do contain a lot of organic matter which, much like clays, is very cohesive. Is it always brown? pretty much, normally shades of grey and brown primarily controlled by the free availability of oxygen (on the surface = plenty, a short distance beneath the surface = not much)
 
I think that it is in very bad taste to bring science into a subject that we all know perfectly well. Whatever its chemical composition, biological content, or particle size, if it is revolting, sticky and stinks, it is mud.
 
Having worked in bulk muckshifting for many years, there are very different smells to various types of clay and mud. Frech dug clay has a metallic smell unlike anything else.

Clay is not always brown. Gault clay (a major component cement manufactur in Kent) of is blue/grey. London clay (fletton stock bricks) is brown. On which subject, the reason the Fletton stock brick (from Fletton in Bedfordshire) almost took over the entire brick supply industry is because the Fletton clay is self combusting after it is dried out, This allows a huge saving in coal needed for firing the bricks making them so much cheaper than almost every other brick).
 
clay particles, which result from the chemical alteration of minerals such as feldspars.

Which reminds me that the low point (though only in terms of altitude!) in my illustrious career was working in a Cornish China clay mine.

I sat in the bottom of an extremely deep open pit in a little corrugated-iron cabin the size of an outside lavvy, with a plastic front window. I pulled levers to direct a jet nozzle of maybe about 10"-12" diameter, out of which shot water at, IIRC, 112mph and which I was told would cut a man in half. The idea was to use the water jet to blast the rock/soil off the side wall of the pit. (My little cabin had a not very convincing 'rock guard' on top of it.) This would than be washed to the bottom of the pit by the water, and the ensuing soupy sludge was then hoovered up and out of the pit by absolutely vast pipes and pumps. Earthmoving machines dealt with some of the crunchier stuff. I had my 'tea breaks' in my little cabin, because it took at least 15 minutes to trudge up to the portacabin mess room nearer the top of the pit.

While the whole set up and process was fascinating, my job was mainly mind bogglingly boring, although there was a certain hypnotic quality to staring for hours on end at the varied colour and texture of the pit wall and deciding was I going to try to undermine this bit, or blast off that bit, etc.

Some years later fate found me in academia, where I wrote a discourse analysis of the way that the 'Cornish Alps' (white mountains of China clay mining waste) were written about, and used as one of my 'case study' texts an extract from "West Country Cruising'!

So, from earthy to esoteric!
 
Which reminds me that the low point (though only in terms of altitude!) in my illustrious career was working in a Cornish China clay mine.

I sat in the bottom of an extremely deep open pit in a little corrugated-iron cabin the size of an outside lavvy, with a plastic front window. I pulled levers to direct a jet nozzle of maybe about 10"-12" diameter, out of which shot water at, IIRC, 112mph and which I was told would cut a man in half. The idea was to use the water jet to blast the rock/soil off the side wall of the pit. (My little cabin had a not very convincing 'rock guard' on top of it.) This would than be washed to the bottom of the pit by the water, and the ensuing soupy sludge was then hoovered up and out of the pit by absolutely vast pipes and pumps. Earthmoving machines dealt with some of the crunchier stuff. I had my 'tea breaks' in my little cabin, because it took at least 15 minutes to trudge up to the portacabin mess room nearer the top of the pit.

While the whole set up and process was fascinating, my job was mainly mind bogglingly boring, although there was a certain hypnotic quality to staring for hours on end at the varied colour and texture of the pit wall and deciding was I going to try to undermine this bit, or blast off that bit, etc.

Some years later fate found me in academia, where I wrote a discourse analysis of the way that the 'Cornish Alps' (white mountains of China clay mining waste) were written about, and used as one of my 'case study' texts an extract from "West Country Cruising'!

So, from earthy to esoteric!
Our childhood holidays were in South Cornwall and part of the excitement was the anticipation of seeing the first 'white mountain'. I find it a matter of regret that these can no longer be seen, although I think some eroded ones still exist. Much as I like a natural landscape, there is often beauty to be found in industry. The finest photograph that I never took was a scene I saw when I was driving through Par, when a pannier steam engine with a load of clay passed, and the sun shining through the steam highlighted an amazing scene.
 
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