One recurrent theme in the annual cycle of making a living as an archaeologist is being asked what you are/are about to/have just dug. In many cases, the questioner clearly thinks that excavation is the be-all and end-all of archaeology; and to confess not to be digging suggests a lack of moral fibre, akin to that displayed by those members of the Oxford Union who, in the 1930s, chose not to fight for King and Country. Certainly, Indiana Jones would never go a whole year without at least one adventurous season in the field!
The truth of the matter is
that the exercise in human microgeomorphology called
archaeological excavation leads to an increasing quantity of
post-excavation work, such that the number of archaeologists for
whom one field season of set-piece excavation follows another as
day follows night is in permanent decline. There is also the
question of where the money is to come from, but that is a
separate, if not unrelated, melodrama, in front of which we may
leave the stage-curtains firmly drawn. Here, the field
evaluations and assessments that make up much of the work of the
professional units need to be discounted, as these rarely furnish
satisfactory opportunities for voluntary participation.
A second familiar question is `Do you know of any excavations I could take part in?' Faced with this, the non-excavating archaeologist has several possible stock answers. A straight denial is usually inadvisable - it suggests that one is entirely out of touch with realities; the follow-up is to enquire whether the asker is a novice - a lamb for the slaughter - or a battle-scarred veteran of campaigns the length and breadth of Europe, or even further afield. Having ascertained this, it is often possible to match up the volunteer with an excavator looking for staff. Of course, there is often an `unknown factor' involved in making such recommendations: Dr No, the charming, approachable, dynamic investigator met at a conference - for example, in the bar afterwards - may turn out to be a tyrant towards his/her field crew. Even more seriously, the transparencies of his/her excavations - suggesting orderly and safe work - may not correspond to on-site realities. A neat sidestep is to recommend that the prospective digger should consult CBA Briefing, issued by the Council for British Archaeology as part of the magazine British Archaeology.
Other archaeologists
sometimes recruit by placing advertisements in the Press - the Guardian,
Times, and Scotsman are favoured. For archaeology
further afield, the Archaeology Abroad Service may assist.
Alternatively, an approach to an university archaeology
department, or to the local authority archaeological service,
where one exists, may prove helpful. All sorts of useful
background information may come from such sources, but some key
issues may be left aside. Let's consider them.
There is no standard minimum age, although many excavations may, for insurance or other reasons, only be able to accept participants of 18 or over. In other cases it may be possible to take part at younger ages and some Young Archaeologists' Club branches even organise fieldwork - with adult supervision and guidance - for younger children. There is generally no upper age limit, and many retired people find that archaeological fieldwork furnishes opportunities to put their skills to a new use, or to take up an entirely new activity.
The short answer is that you shouldn't be too unfit; most excavations involve varying proportions of hard manual work and more delicate procedures, the latter probably representing a greater proportion of the time than the non-archaeologist imagines, although this is not invariably the case. On some excavations, much of the heavy labour of site clearance and back-filling (if required) may be undertaken by machine; but don't count on this. Males should note that the assumption that women will be happy to take turns as the Finds Assistant is wholly out-of-date; many are duantingly efficient with a pick and shovel.
If you have a health problem, for example asthma, you should advise the Director at the time you enroll for the project; indeed a sign of a good Director who takes his / her `duty of care' seriously will be that the paperwork you have to complete will make reference to health issues.
Generalization here is well-nigh impossible. Broadly, excavations fall into a number of categories. Some, because they are undertaken in relation to threats to the archaeological sites in question, tend to be better underwritten in terms of providing for their diggers. On such projects, the most to expect would be (i) a substantial proportion of your travel costs by the cheapest possible means of getting to the site - this will usually be in return for a commitment to stay a certain length of time, or (ii) a lift to the site, often in a geriatric Transit, and / or (iii) a daily allowance - which may or may not be paid for your days off - to cover food and shelter, if this is not organized by the Director. Depending on circumstances, such as the logistics of obtaining and preparing food and the local availability of accommodation, the latter may be replaced by bed-and-board, this last phrase encompassing, in my experience, everything from a private bedroom in a stately home and excellent nosh to a corner of the floor of an overcrowded cottage, or indeed a wooden shed, with frequent forays to the local chipper: a multitude of regulations makes such primitive arrangements thankfully now far less usual. At the opposite end of the scale, research excavations may need much of the available finance for other purposes, so that no contribution may be paid towards travel, and financial support once you get there may be non-existent. Indeed, there is a strong belief in some archaeological circles that `volunteers' should not be recompensed financially for their contribution at all, for legal and other reasons. Such excavations may offer multifarious other compensations (too numerous to mention!). The key point is to make sure you have a clear idea in advance of taking part what circumstances are going to prevail on the site of your choice - e.g. do you need to take sleeping bag/cutlery/tent etc - and whether (and, if so, to what extent) you will have to dig into your own pocket as well as the site.
The range of equipment used
on archaeological excavations overlaps with that found on
building sites; the danger of serious injury exists in both
activities. Most archaeologists are very safety-conscious; there
are, however, individual exceptions. Risks are probably at their
most acute towards the end of a project, if it is running up
against limits of time and/or money. They are also increased when
either deep stratification or unstable masonry are encountered.
Shoring and scaffolding - or, worse still, their absence when
circumstances dictate their use - are amongst the most generally
encountered hazards, along with unstable deposits and groundwater
seepage. The only sensible advice here is not to do anything you
think is unsafe, even if your site supervisor recommends it; and
certainly don't do anything which has been forbidden by the
`house rules' of the site. These should have been modified to
take into account any site-specific hazards identified during the
Director's risk assessment of the site.
You would be well advised to ensure that the excavation and its staff are adequately insured: if you have doubts, ask to see the certificate of liability insurance. This is particularly important overseas. All this may seem rather tedious, but it may save you regrets later. It should however be stressed that the great majority of excavations are low-risk and accident-free.
In recent years, some concern has been expressed about the likelihood of contacting infections etc from organic (and other) substances under excavation. A case in point is offered by the possibility of encountering bones of cattle which died of anthrax, even centuries ago, for this disease can survive for a long time in the soil. It is probably fair to say that, as yet, problems of this kind have not been encountered on excavations to my knowledge, but we may expect some innovations by way of protective gear in the years to come. Meantime, it is undoubtedly sensible not to forego basic hygiene; eating your lunchtime butties with filthy hands may be macho, but the consequences can be predicted. This is far more likely to strike you down than `The Curse of the Pharaoh's Tomb'. Anti-tetanus jabs are essential.
The short answer is `appropriate clothing' and `yes, with reservations'. The fundamentals of appropriate clothing are clearly weather-dependent and the key thing is to ensure that you have garments (and a change) for your whole body: for windy and rainy British conditions, for example, a classy waterproof jacket is little use if paired with thin trousers and no headgear. Much archaeological activity requires you to be in the same place for prolonged periods of time, and thus you should be comfortable when kneeling and squatting, as well as when standing; and more leak-proof, or at least waterproof, than the Ministry of Defence. The point about kneeling and squatting is made since excavations are ideal consumers of decayed and misshapen jeans, but make sure, entrancing though they may look on the right subject, that they are not too tight. Kneeling in jeans that are a second skin can be agony. The same posture dictates that the archaeological fraternity/sorority favours oversized pullovers and long-tailed shirts. Kneeling-pads, as used by your mum for weeding the garden (which your dad promised to do the previous week), are often considered cissy, except on limb-gashing or damp subsoils; they are likely to damage the surface you have been energetically preparing unless used with care. Exposure to sunshine also brings its hazards, and a sun-hat, long-sleeved T-shirt and sun-block of an appropriate factor are sensible things to pack for summertime work.
The question of footwear is
also important. Clearly, protective boots or wellies (lacing,
green ones are viewed with some disfavour by purists) are useful
for many tasks. For detailed work on the excavation, lighter
footwear is often essential, since otherwise you are likely to
mark or damage the area you are working on; this means it will
have to be brushed again or photography will show only the natty
pattern of your trainers' soles in the sand. Thus, soft,
patternless soles are favoured - I affect a tasteful line in worn
baseball boots myself - and, as with clothes, excavation gives
you a good excuse to hang on to items that no self-respecting
punk would still wear. Patrons of River Island, Next and the like
would feel hopelessly overdressed on site. Never excavate in bare
feet, and never work with heavy hand-tools, such as picks,
without putting on protective boots or steel-toed wellies.
Safety helmets, protective goggles and the like should be provided by the Director where conditions require them. Resist the temptation artistically or otherwise to embellish safety helmets with felt-tip pens; although undoubtedly fun, this severely reduces their effectiveness. And they must be discarded once they've been dropped heavily or received a heavy knock.
As a general rule, all
equipment you require will be supplied. If you are at all serious
about your archaeology, invest in a pointing trowel with a cast
(not rivetted) blade, not more than four inches (0.10m) in
length. This is the basic piece of excavation equipment and is,
as all (except left-handed) archaeologists know, what your right
arm is for. Real archaeologists only wear gloves when trowelling
in low temperatures. It may be an exaggeration to suggest that
most archaeologists would rather lose their spouses than their
trowels - but it is only a slight one. The trowel is the basic
means of archaeological dissection, and most practitioners thus
treasure their own implement, getting to know its particular
nuances. Extremely worn examples are status symbols; therefore,
the sooner you acquire one, the earlier your trowel will indicate
a practised hand.
Archaeological field crews, like the News of the World, tend to contain all varieties of human life. Thus a general statement has to be hedged with many caveats. Depending on the distribution of the accommodation, the number of personnel, and the location of the site, out-of-working-hours activities may range from a continuous whirl to the rather subdued. Being prepared to make your own entertainment is a distinct advantage, but most crews are fairly lively. Lovers of an evening refreshment should take care not to select an excavation ten miles from the nearest ale-house, particularly if the director holds the keys for the Transit and is an avowed teetotaller; this does not often (ever?) happen. If you are incapable of surviving an evening without recourse to your Spice Girls/Shostakovich tapes, make sure that your equipment can be plugged directly into your ear. The cacophony of twenty tape-machines can destroy peace-loving rural communities faster than the withdrawal of bus services!
If you specifically want to be trained, there may be a case for going on a training excavation, and you may even be prepared to pay to take part in one. Most people, however, pick up the rudiments of excavation on `standard' excavations, essentially by copying others; you should, however, make it clear to the director when you apply that you have no previous experience. You may already have some relevant skills - such as photography, surveying or technical drawing - and it would certainly be worth mentioning these. If there is a facet of the work that especially interests you (e.g. soils, stratification, recovery of environmental materials), get involved as and when circumstances permit. On many excavations, you can learn as much (or as little) about the site and its problems as you like; there may be evening lectures or opportunities to quiz the director. But many diggers take part in an excavation because it offers them an opportunity to visit a new area of the country and, provided your work on site is okay, no-one will be worried if you don't want to spend your nights in lengthy discussions of its wider significance.
It is, of course, possible to
find work in some sun-kissed land, where the mid-day buffet
includes copious quantities of wine. But it is certainly better
to begin by excavating in the UK; then you will have some inkling
of what may be in store on that fascinating site in Provence or
Israel . . .
Indisputably, Techniques of Archaeological Excavation, by Philip Barker (second edition, 1982, Batsford). Archaeology: Theory, Methods and Practice by Colin Renfrew and Paul Bahn (second edition, 1996, Thames and Hudson) and, more digestibly, Archaeology: an introduction by Kevin Greene (third, revised edition, 1995, Batsford, with an electronic companion available on the Internet) will enable you to see how excavation and the results it produces fit into the development of archaeological ideas. A more recent option is Field archaeology, an introduction, by Peter Drewett (1999, UCL Press).
(i) He/She'll tell you. (ii) You'll find yourself doing off-site chores, such as emptying chemical toilets, with horrifying frequency. (iii) You'll be allocated repeatedly to work on the trench that needs a thick layer of topsoil removed, and/or is least likely to reveal exciting finds or significant information.
Published by the Council for British Archaeology, St.Mary's House, 66 Bootham, York, YO30 7BZ (tel +(44) (0)1904 671417, fax +(44) (0)1904 671384, email info@britarch.ac.uk).
The Young Archaeologists' Club can be contacted at the CBA address given above.
© Ian Ralston, Bill Tidy (revised 1997, based on first edition 1986)
Factsheet content last revised March 2001
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Today's date: 5/7/2008
This page last updated:
3/4/2007 11:00
