Last Week of Excavation - by Renee

Friday found us at the site on top of the hill.  We had started the unit in the waning hours of Thursday's work day. After the duff had been scraped off in a rough outline of our eventual hole I grabbed the breaker bar to be the first to penetrate the virgin soil. The resounding vibration of the bar was felt through our feet and a palpable “twang” sound was heard. Ethan chuckled to himself and commented on the hard ground “That's the bedrock.” We were in for some hard soil, yet still managed to get it to one end to level before the vans swept us up.

When we returned to the unit on Friday we found the soil just as unforgiving. Nevertheless we pounded away for several hours. The week’s worth of labor was taking a toll and we tired quickly. My crew started to fantasize about the things they'd do when they got home. I, however, wasn't going to join them.  I had decided to stay at Camp San Luis over the weekend and after we sufficiently banged at our deepening square hole we found ourselves back at camp. While everyone else packed up, I helped out where I could, moved my tent over a tarp in hopes of fending off another ant attack during the night and said my goodbyes.

My two car-less and devoted cohorts who had decided to stay with me, watched as the campground emptied, finally leaving us to enjoy a beer under the shade of the newly vacated tree. We dawdled for a few hours commenting on how quiet it had become. My supplies had dwindled during the week so a stop at a grocery store was in order. We spent the afternoon at the laundry mat, wandering around the local big-box store like a couple of zombies, giggling at the strangeness of being thrust back into the world of technology and convenience after a week of simple labor and camping.

One of my cohorts got to see her daughter, while the other promptly passed out upon our return to camp. I however was hungry! Sitting by myself in the once bustling kitchen area I realized how much I missed everyone. I knew they would return before I knew it and that staved off the loneliness. After dinner I cleaned my own dishes, put away the campstove and crawled in bed at a relatively early hour.

Saturday and Sunday were spent in true hedonist fashion. Many cocktails were consumed at Avila Beach and downtown SLO. Stores were perused, doo-dads purchased. Oceans were swam in and beaches were combed for shells. We even hallucinated about shell middens (“Won't know unless we dig a STU!”) and square holes were jokingly longed for. We also vocally and often voiced our longing for our fellow cohorts.

Come Monday, our fantasies took shape. A new crew was assigned and we returned to the STU atop the hill. We fell into our respective roles. The self-proclaimed “Breaker Beast” manned the breaker bar with ease. I could do the same for a few minutes then felt the utmost need to pass out, so I stuck with excavation of the unit, cleaning the side walls and subbing whilst the Breaker Beast had his rest. Andy valiantly stepped in to help us eat through the tough soil when both of us tired. By the end of the day we had reached a point where we were no longer finding cultural constituents so the STU was closed and we would be moved downhill to a new STU in the morning.

Back at camp, the loud, boisterous bunch that had been missing from our weekend huddled around the campfire and I was pleased to be counted in their number.