If you drive out to the west side of Utah Lake, past the small town of Elberta and into the sun-scorched hills of the East Tintic Mountains, you won't find much. It’s mostly sagebrush and dust. There isn't a visitor center. There are no gift shops or paved parking lots. But on top of a nondescript limestone ridge, there is a concrete slab that covers a nightmare. This is the nutty putty cave memorial, a site that remains one of the most polarizing and tragic locations in the world of spelunking.
It’s been over fifteen years.
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People still talk about it constantly. You've probably seen the diagrams online—those terrifying cross-sections showing a human body wedged upside down in a fissure no wider than a loaf of bread. That was John Edward Jones. In 2009, a routine family caving trip turned into a 28-hour fight for life that eventually ended in the permanent closure of the cave. Today, the cave isn't just closed; it's a tomb.
Most people think the nutty putty cave memorial is just a plaque. It’s actually more of a seal. The decision to pour concrete into the entrance wasn't made lightly, and it certainly wasn't without controversy. Even now, some in the caving community argue about whether "sacrificing" a cave is the right way to handle a tragedy. But for the Jones family and the Utah County Sheriff’s Office, there was basically no other choice.
What Actually Happened at Nutty Putty?
To understand the memorial, you have to understand the geography of the mistake. Nutty Putty was never a "grand" cave. It didn't have massive stalactites or sweeping cathedrals of stone. It was a hydrothermal cave, formed by hot water pushing up through limestone. This created a maze of tight, slippery, "putty-like" clay tubes.
John Jones was an experienced caver, but he hadn't been underground in years. He was looking for the "Birth Canal," a famous but manageable tight squeeze. Instead, he took a wrong turn into an unmapped, unnamed crawlway.
He found a hole that looked like it opened up. It didn't.
He moved forward, exhaling to shrink his chest to fit through a gap that was roughly 10 by 18 inches. When he inhaled, he was stuck. Gravity did the rest. Because the passage angled downward, he slid even deeper, pinning his arms beneath him in a position that doctors later described as a death sentence for the human circulatory system.
The rescue effort was massive. We're talking 137 rescuers. They used pulleys, power tools, and even tried a sophisticated rope system to pull him out. At one point, they actually got him high enough to make eye contact and give him some water. Then, a pulley anchored in the soft limestone snapped. He fell right back into the hole. He died shortly after from cardiac arrest caused by the immense strain of being upside down for over a day.
The Birth of the Nutty Putty Cave Memorial
Usually, when someone dies in a cave, the body is recovered. It’s a grueling process, but it’s done for the family. In this case, the risk to the rescuers was just too high. To get John’s body out, someone would have had to break his legs or pelvis while he was dead, or risk another structural collapse in that tiny fissure.
The family agreed: let him stay.
The nutty putty cave memorial was born out of a mix of grief and public safety. Within a week of the accident, the state of Utah and the landowners (the Utah School and Institutional Trust Lands Administration) decided to seal it forever. They didn't just lock a gate. They poured a massive plug of concrete into the entrance, effectively turning the entire cave system into a sarcophagus.
On the surface, a small monument was placed. It features a photo of John, a man who was a medical student, a husband, and a father. It’s a quiet place. Honestly, if you didn't know the history, you might walk right past it. But for those who know the story, the silence of that hillside is heavy.
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Why They Sealed It (And Why Some People Hated That)
You might think sealing the cave was a "no-brainer." If a place is dangerous enough to kill a man and keep his body, close it, right? Well, the caving community is a bit more nuanced than that.
- The Safety Argument: The Sheriff's office was done. Nutty Putty had seen multiple rescues before 2009. In 2004, two different people got stuck in the exact same week. One of them, a teenager, was trapped for 14 hours. The cave was becoming a liability that the state couldn't justify anymore.
- The "Tomb" Argument: Many felt that out of respect for John Jones, the area should be a final resting place. Removing the body would have been a violent, traumatic process.
- The Conservationist Pushback: Some cavers argued that sealing a natural feature is a form of environmental vandalism. They believe that "caves aren't dangerous, people are." They felt that better permitting or a sturdier gate would have sufficed without destroying a geological feature.
Despite the pushback, the concrete was poured. The nutty putty cave memorial stands as a permanent end to the cave's history as a recreation spot.
Visiting the Site Today
If you're planning to visit the nutty putty cave memorial, you need to adjust your expectations. This isn't a tourist destination. There are no signs on the main road pointing you toward it. You’ll be driving on gravel roads that can get pretty washed out after a rainstorm.
Most people who go there today are "disaster tourists" or people who were deeply moved by the movie The Last Descent. When you get to the top of the hill, you'll see the concrete cap. People often leave small mementos—coins, flowers, or stones.
It’s a weirdly beautiful spot, overlooking the valley. But there is an undeniable tension there. You are standing directly above a man’s final resting place. It feels different than a cemetery. In a cemetery, there’s a sense of order. Here, it’s just raw nature that won a lopsided fight.
The Psychological Impact of the Cave
Why does the nutty putty cave memorial fascinate us so much? It’s the "thinner" fear. Claustrophobia is one of those primal phobias that hits almost everyone on some level. The idea of being unable to move, unable to breathe, and stuck in total darkness is the ultimate "bad way to go."
John's story went viral before "going viral" was even a fully formed concept. It tapped into a collective dread. The memorial serves as a physical period at the end of a very long, very painful sentence. It’s a reminder that nature doesn't have a "reset" button.
Some local legends have popped up, of course. People claim the area feels "eerie" or that they hear things. Mostly, that’s just the wind through the sagebrush and the human brain trying to process a tragedy. The real power of the site isn't in ghosts; it's in the sobering reality of what happened 150 feet below the surface.
Lessons for Modern Adventurers
The story of the nutty putty cave memorial isn't just a sad tale; it changed how caving is managed in Utah. Before 2009, Nutty Putty was managed by a local grotto (a caving club). You had to sign up online and get a passcode for the gate. It was "regulated," but barely.
Today, other caves in the region have much stricter access. The "memorial" serves as a permanent safety briefing.
If you are an explorer, the takeaway here isn't "don't go caving." It's about the "Rule of Three" and knowing your limits.
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- Never go alone. John was with his brother, which is why help arrived as fast as it did. If he’d been alone, no one would have even known where to start looking.
- Know the map. Don't guess. If a passage looks like it might lead somewhere, but isn't on the survey, stay out.
- Respect the "No." If your body tells you a space is too tight, or if the cave feels "off," listen. Adrenaline is a bad navigator.
Practical Information for the Respectful Visitor
If you decide to make the trek to the nutty putty cave memorial, keep a few things in mind. The land is managed by the state, and while it is open to the public, it is treated with a "leave no trace" policy.
- Vehicle: A high-clearance vehicle is recommended. The road is rocky and can be brutal on a standard sedan.
- Weather: It gets incredibly hot in the summer. There is zero shade. Bring more water than you think you need.
- Conduct: Treat the site like a grave. Because it is one. Don't try to chip away at the concrete or vandalize the plaque. It sounds obvious, but you'd be surprised.
The cave is gone. You can't see the Birth Canal or the A-Frame or the Scout Room. You can only see the hill. And maybe that's for the best. Some places are better left to the earth.
Actionable Steps for Exploring Safely
If the story of Nutty Putty has sparked an interest in caving for you, don't just go out and find a hole in the ground. The best way to honor the memory of those lost in accidents is to become a skilled, safe practitioner of the sport.
- Join a Grotto: Find a local chapter of the National Speleological Society (NSS). They will teach you the ropes—literally.
- Invest in Gear: A $10 hardware store flashlight is not caving gear. You need a dedicated helmet with a mounted primary light and two backup light sources.
- Learn Vertical Skills: Many caves require rappelling and ascending. Don't try to "wing it" on a cliffside.
- Check the Weather: Hydrothermal caves like Nutty Putty don't usually flood, but many others do. A rainstorm ten miles away can turn a dry cave into a drowning trap in minutes.
The nutty putty cave memorial stands as a stark boundary between human curiosity and the unforgiving physics of the earth. It is a place for reflection, a place of warning, and a place of rest. Whether you view it as a tragic necessity or a lost opportunity for exploration, it remains one of the most significant landmarks in the history of American spelunking.
Drive safe, stay on the trails, and always tell someone where you're going.