I Volunteered for This?! Life on an Archaeological Dig
Digging by the Sea
By Mary K. Remole
Mary Remole
A balk, the earth wall of an excavation square, is torn down. No longer needed to preserve a record of the stratigraphy of the square, the balk is removed to expose architectural elements within it.
I was dreaming of the sea, paddling a rescue boat far beyond the breakers toward silence and tranquility. Tired of rowing, I dove into the water and pulled strongly downward listening to the silence of the deep. There was a ringing sensation in my ears. Half asleep on my cot, I was dimly aware of a distant rooster crowing and the pounding of the surf far
below. Annoyed, I started for the surface. The noise persisted, and I slowly realized it was an alarm clock blasting over
the camp PA. It was 4:30 a.m. and the beginning of another day at Tel Michal.
I could hear curses outside the tent and rocks hitting the loudspeaker as someone tried to silence its raucousness.
“I volunteered for this?”, I thought with disgust.
I rolled over feeling my overworked muscles protest and resi