Going against the grain

Going against the grain

Photo by Jaime Spaniol on Unsplash

Originally published 2 July 1990

Inde­pen­dence Day. The sand-cas­tle sea­son begins.

There is in all of us a bit of the archi­tect who wish­es to build cas­tles, cathe­drals, walled towns, and aque­ducts. And what more plea­sur­able way to indulge these fan­tasies than by play­ing in the wet sand, with warm sun on our backs and the sparkling sea lap­ping our abut­ments and battlements.

Like many sand-cas­tle devo­tees, I have worked my way through the gen­res of our art. One sea­son it’s all Mont-Saint-Michel; the next, the Great Wall of Chi­na; the next, King Arthur’s cas­tle. This year I’ve been warm­ing up with the Pyra­mids of Giza.

A sand pyra­mid is quick to con­struct (although to get the slopes just right is not as easy as one might think). A soli­tary pyra­mid is not ter­ri­bly impres­sive, but a com­plex of half-a-dozen, in dif­fer­ent sizes, with a Sphinx thrown in, makes a dis­play of beach archi­tec­ture that would daz­zle Tutankhamun.

But wait. This is sup­posed to be a sci­ence col­umn. So for all you sand-cas­tle buffs, here’s the Sci­ence Rid­dle of the Sphinx.

Why is wet sand firm?

Dry sand is use­less for build­ing; it does­n’t stick togeth­er. If sand is too wet, it slumps and oozes. But when the degree of mois­ture is just right—voila! Tow­er­ing tow­ers, soar­ing arch­es, but­tress­es that fly.

Something to do with tension?

The firm­ness of moist sand can­not be the result of a chem­i­cal reac­tion, such as makes a sand-mor­tar mix­ture set; when the sand dries out the cas­tle reverts to dust. Nor can the firm­ness be due to fric­tion, because water acts as a lubricant.

So what’s the answer? One guess might be the firm­ness might have some­thing to do with sur­face ten­sion in films of water between the sand grains. Most of us have seen the trick of care­ful­ly float­ing a steel nee­dle on the sur­face of a bowl of water: The sur­face ten­sion of the water sup­ports the weight of the nee­dle. Per­haps that same force keeps sand grains from slip­ping past each other.

Wrong! As every bub­ble-mak­er knows, adding glyc­er­ine to soapy water increas­es sur­face ten­sion and helps make big­ger, stronger bub­bles. But add glyc­er­ine to wet sand and it becomes less firm. So pre­sum­ably sur­face ten­sion is not the answer.

For the cor­rect answer to the Sphin­x’s rid­dle I am indebt­ed to an arti­cle by Jearl Walk­er in the Jan­u­ary 1982 issue of Sci­en­tif­ic Amer­i­can. The answer is both sim­ple and complex.

The sim­ple answer is: Electricity.

The com­pli­cat­ed answer is: No the­o­ry is entire­ly satisfactory.

In a few words, here is what prob­a­bly hap­pens: The sur­face of a wet sand grain becomes ion­ized; that is, elec­tric­i­ty charged. The charge caus­es a shift in the aver­age posi­tion of hydro­gen nuclei in the adja­cent water mol­e­cules. This polar­iza­tion of the water reduces its abil­i­ty to flow. Wet sand is firm because the increased vis­cos­i­ty of the water hin­ders one grain from slid­ing over another.

But — some clever read­er will say — remem­ber the glyc­er­ine! Isn’t it sur­pris­ing that adding a vis­cous flu­id (glyc­er­ine) to a vis­cous mix­ture (wet sand) makes the sand less firm?

Uh, hmm­mm well, like I said, the sim­ple answer is electricity.

Let’s get back to pyra­mids. One can make a halfway decent pyra­mid even with dry sand — and for­get all that stuff about ion­iza­tion and vis­cos­i­ty. But then one must rely on dry fric­tion to keep the sand from slip­ping. There is a max­i­mum slope that a dry gran­u­lar mate­r­i­al can main­tain with­out slip­page, called “the angle of repose” (a love­ly phrase, evoca­tive of rest­ful after­noons on sun-drenched beach­es). The sand on my beach has an angle of repose of 33 degrees, not steep enough to make a real­is­tic tomb for King Tut. The pyra­mids at Giza in Egypt rise at an angle of 52 degrees, and to achieve that one needs wet sand.

But now anoth­er ques­tion aris­es: Aren’t the real pyra­mids of Egypt just big piles of dry rocks? What keeps them from col­laps­ing to the angle of repose?

The answer: The pyra­mids at Giza are built of lime­stone blocks cut true and square. The weight of the blocks is even­ly dis­trib­uted straight down­wards onto blocks of the low­er lay­ers — a per­fect­ly sta­ble arrangement.

The great pyramid of Memphis

But sta­bil­i­ty may have been a les­son the Egyp­tians learned at great cost. One of their ear­li­est endeav­ors, the pyra­mid at Mei­dum, was appar­ent­ly built with bad­ly squared blocks, more like sand grains in shape. Part-way through con­struc­tion the out­er lay­ers of the pyra­mid crum­bled and col­lapsed into a heap. Some con­sid­er­able re-engi­neer­ing was required before the pharaohs were able to suc­cess­ful­ly exceed the angle of repose in their places of ulti­mate repose.

Mean­while, down in Mem­phis, Ten­nessee, the towns­folk are build­ing a pyra­mid wor­thy of their city’s Egypt­ian name­sake, a two-thirds scale repli­ca of the Great Pyra­mid of Cheops. The pyra­mid, which will serve as a sports-enter­tain­ment are­na, is con­struct­ed of struc­tur­al steel with stain­less steel cladding. This mode of con­struc­tion reflects a rev­o­lu­tion in build­ing that occurred in the 19th cen­tu­ry with the appear­ance of cheap and plen­ti­ful iron and steel.

The steel in the Ten­nessee struc­ture will weigh 2,550 tons, com­pared to about 5,000,000 tons of stone in the Great Pyra­mid of Cheops. The Ten­nessee builders have their prob­lems, but not with angles of repose. In that respect, sand-cas­tle enthu­si­asts have more in com­mon with ancient Egyp­tians than with 20th cen­tu­ry archi­tects and engineers.

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