by When I was a teenager, I watched a TV documentary about a frozen human body found at the summit of Mount Ampato in Peru. Called “Juanita” or the Incan ice mummy, this girl was a human sacrifice, killed in about 1450 at the age of 14 or so – the same age I was. Her body was mummified, preserved in the permafrost, which meant her clothes, her hair, even her stomach, which contained her last meal, were all still intact.
Using a wealth of scientific techniques, as well as historical and anthropological knowledge, the anthropologist-archaeologist-mountaineers who discovered Juanita were able to unpack the story of her final months, weeks and hours. I was surprised to learn that finding and explaining such mysteries could be real work. Anthropology and archaeology, and the challenge of knowing the strange, and the strange knowledge, fascinated me.
To prepare for a university interview, I found an archaeological dig in Cheshire that was willing to let me and my friend Helen camp for a week and help out. There was Portaloo, a lumpy pitch for camping and a “mess tent” with chairs, tables and an endless supply of hot tea available in brown mugs. The professional archaeologists were the coolest people I’ve ever met. They looked more hobo than professor emeritus, but they were clearly intellectual and scientific heavyweights, piecing together a story on a complex site spanning thousands of years of human activity.
I helped excavate the foundations of a medieval church, and the skeletons that were buried around it. To my untrained eye, there was no clear track above the ground – it was just a field of grass. But it was always called Chapel Field, and generations of farmers avoided plowing the area for fear of throwing up large blocks of stone.
To the archaeologists, who could read the landscape in a way that I could not, its history was clearly visible. I helped excavate the skeleton of a tall, middle-aged male. The bones were strong, and it is likely that he was part of the local farming community that used the church in the 1300s. He had broken one of his fingers at some point and it healed very badly. It seemed so up close and personal to the life of someone centuries ago. It was a reminder that this was not just a skeleton, but a person.
Archeology is the study of the human past through material remains – from buildings, tools and crafts to burial sites and human bodies. Often what archaeologists find are items that have been discarded or lost or buried. This “trash” tells the story of the ancient world.
There were stones, lumps of clay, and then there was – the smooth, curved head on a long, thin, ivory-white pin
Archaeologists can even study the preserved plaque on ancient teeth and the pulp at the bottom of the mouth to see what people ate. Gross, but also super-cool. The real value of these many remains is how they connect to each other – where the flakes of a flint tool are located in relation to a hearth, how a shrine is aligned with the sunrise, or how a site was reused and reshaped. . by successive generations. From individual data points, archaeologists build a web of understanding.
TV shows such as Digging for Britain and Time Team show the wonder of discovering the past, the precision of archaeological techniques, and some big, complex questions. Why do people – across time and across cultures – do so many strange and wonderful things? How did people in the past deal with life’s challenges that we still face today – whether that’s how to build a rain roof, grow food, carry children comfortably, choose a leader, sense remove from death or keep their loved ones safe? That curiosity is what drives my work, making TV and radio programs and writing books about the past.
Community archeology projects often seek volunteers. Good digs will welcome people with physical disabilities and additional support needs, and ensure they are given tasks and training that are comfortable, meaningful and meet their needs.
Projects require people to clean and process finds, keep digital and written records, use technology to collect and interpret data – from photographing finds and lidar (laser) scanning to photogrammetry, which uses millions of photos still life to build a 3D model of a site. or get. They want people who like to talk to visitors, who have a knack for presentation and creative interpretation. They also want people who don’t want to go on site at all, but can work from home, looking at documents and maps, doing archival research and exploring other avenues of research. Then there’s the support needed to keep websites and social media accounts busy and up-to-date, struggling with funding, writing press releases and all the other back-office work that keeps the lines spinning.
A few years ago, I volunteered at Chester Farm, near Wellingborough in Northamptonshire. It’s a great location, close to a prehistoric (and later Roman) river crossing. There is evidence of more than 10,000 years of human activity along the banks of the river and in the surrounding fields; This one site tells the story of the county.
On the day I helped out, I was lucky enough to be assigned to dig part of a perimeter ditch. The archaeologists knew it was Roman, but they weren’t sure how deep or wide it was, or whether anything interesting was trapped in the ancient silt and detritus that now filled the ditch. I scraped away, looking out for color and texture differences that would change the shape of the ditch. There were stones, lumps of clay, and then there was – the smooth curved head on a long, thin, ivory-white pin.
I once sat in a cave shelter eating sandwiches, knowing that Mesolithic people were sitting there eating shellfish 7,000 years earlier
It was an intact Roman hairpin made of cow bone. I was the first to hold it for 1,800 years – probably the last to lay a hand on it and let it go.
Archeology can also be therapeutic. For a BBC radio podcast, I spent the day with Breaking Ground Heritage, which uses archeology as a path to recovery for military and ex-military personnel. They carry out pioneering archaeological research and provide therapeutic support at the same time. Archaeological fieldwork can be like being in a military campaign. You keep going in all weathers, you have to combine physical skills with mental agility, and you pay close attention to small details while keeping the big picture in mind. And friendship is second to none – if the demons of PTSD come at night and it’s not easy to sleep, be sure someone else in the mess tent is going through it too. Mastering a new skill brings confidence, discipline, pride and resilience.
Some of my most magical archaeological encounters have involved whole landscapes, rather than individual artefacts. I once sat in a cave shelter in Torbithan in the north-west of the Highlands eating my sandwiches, knowing that hunter-gatherers from the Mesolithic era were sitting in the same place eating roasted hazelnuts and shellfish, 7,000 years earlier. I found the place by searching Canmore’s database of Scottish archaeological sites to see if there were any nearby.
Dartmoor’s bronze age stone rows, monoliths (standing stones) and hut circles are spectacular. You can still walk through an ancient door into the remains of a family home from 4,000 years ago. On Ilkley Moor, you can explore the mysterious rock art carved into deep boulders (a GPS track leads to the best examples).
Further north is the Kilmarn Valley, with its cairns, galleons and rock carvings (the Kilmarn Museum is amazing) and Dún Adaigh, where you can put your foot in the shape of a carved foot that was used as part of the inauguration ceremonies of the Gaelic kings and Wheat. Calanais (also Calanais), in Lewis, South Ronaldsay and on the Mainland in Orkney are landscapes full of traces of ancient people. It’s amazing to explore the landscapes they knew, and marvel at the alignments, the meaning, the effort it all represents. We can’t be sure of all the answers but the questions are compelling.
Related: ‘Awe-inspiring journey back in time’: readers’ favorite ancient sites in Europe
On the Time Team dig, I sat next to Phil Harding as he backtracked on a layer of sandy soil. The cameras were in other places but I was happy to watch it and learn something. “Oh ho,” he cried. I couldn’t see a thing – what did he see? He indicated that he would not see anything either, yet. But he sensed a change in the texture of the soil through his trowel, so he knew he was approaching a feature. Sure enough, he reached the edge of a wall we were looking for.
It seems like magic, but it is really years of expertise, perfectly honed in a discipline that is equal parts art and science. And full of satisfyingly mysterious “whys”.
Mary-Ann Ochota’s books, Secret Britain: Unearthing Our Mysterious Past, and Hidden Histories: A Spotter’s Guide to the British Landscape, are available at guardianbookshop.com
Get involved
• The Council for British Archeology (CBA) lists fieldwork opportunities every year. It runs Young Archaeologists’ Clubs across the country as well as the annual Archeology Festival across the country, with special events, activities and access to sites across the country. This year’s festival will take place 13-28 July 2024. The CBA also trains volunteers to become Listed Building Casework volunteers.
• Each home nation has an online catalog of heritage and archaeological sites:
England: Heritage Gate
Wales: Coflein
Scotland: Kinmore
Northern Ireland: HERONI
• The Portable Antiquities Scheme has a database of over 1.7m finds in England and Wales, mostly metal detectors. You can see what items have been found in your county, read guides to help identify certain types of artifacts or coins, and get advice on how to metal detect responsibly, and what to do if you find one something.
• Explore old maps alongside modern mapping and satellite imagery at the National Library of Scotland website.nls.uk/.
• Many counties are undertaking church graffiti surveys – such as the Norfolk Medieval Graffiti Survey.
• The Ramblers are recruiting volunteers to carry out historic landscape research to protect ancient paths., dontloseyourway.ramblers.org.uk/
