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Day 36: Wonderful Things

The explosion of dust and dirt dies down. “We’re through!” somebody calls out. I stand back, surrounded by equally dirt-smeared and dishevelled colleagues, as the final mini landslide of debris skitters to a rest. Above us, a strange slant of sunlight spears into this most ancient of places, the beam as alien down here as any of us are. Dust twists and spins in the shaft, dancing amidst the glow of our helmet-mounted flashlights.

McKinney, our fiery-haired and fiery-tempered Glaswegian expedition leader, steps forward, scrambling over the small mound of earth left blocking the tunnel. She peers through the newly created hole, shining her torch into whatever lies beyond.

She gasps.

“Can you see anything?” Karen Weingarten asks, her Hamburger accent masking her excited words.

The Labyrinth,

Sarisariñama Tepui,

Venezuela

“Yes, wonderful things.”

At least, that’s the quote our illustrious leader was set up for. Indeed, this was her Howard Carter moment. After days of digging through this blockage in the tunnel, the only passageway within the Labyrinth on Sarisariñama that seems to go anywhere, we were convinced our efforts would pay off. Beyond this fall of ancient masonry and earth, exposing the underground ruins to a natural cave above, this was to be the moment Juliet McKinney found the South American King Tut’s tomb.

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

It’s the end of our second (and much more eventful than the first) week excavating the ruins Kira Sharpe found inside Sarisariñama, one of Venezuela’s famous table mountains. ‘Excavating’ might be too strong a word as I have yet to get my trusty old trowel (the mainstay tool of any excavation, as any amateur, professional, or even armchair archaeologist will tell you) dirty. But, whereas the first week was a monotonous exercise in photographing and measuring the tunnels that burrow through the heart of the mountain, the second has been much more exciting and physically challenging.

It started after Sid, Nadia and I had a midnight encounter with a jaguar while camping in the longest tunnel we’ve so far found. Following our escape, del Vega, in charge of the contingent of Venezuelan militiamen assigned to protect us, led an armed team deeper into the tunnel.

Based on fresh faeces, they confirmed that our midnight visitor was indeed a member of the world’s third-largest big cat species and one of South America’s most revered and feared hunters. They tracked it here.

We are almost three miles from the ancient doorway. While the other passageways the team has explored twist and bend and undulate but ultimately lead nowhere, this one cuts an almost straight line through the mountain. There are other tunnels branching off of it, but of the few we travelled down, all either come to a dead-end or circle back to intersect the main thoroughfare.

That’s what we’ve decided it is. Well, Sid, Nadia and I, as the team that found and thus far explored it, have decided – a thoroughfare. The Labyrinth’s central avenue. McKinney took a bit more convincing. But, eventually, she agreed that it looks like we have stumbled onto the main, if not the single route through the underground ruins not meant to disorient intruders.

The problem is, it’s the one tunnel we’ve found that has collapsed!

That’s right. As sod’s bloody law dictates, our best lead on getting anywhere in this carefully manufactured subterranean maze has been blocked not by design but by accident. And not just blocked, but blocked by God only knows how many tonnes of masonry and earth which has opened the tunnel up to a natural cave above. Nor is it any old natural cave, but most likely a den for our feline midnight visitor.

It took a while to work out a plan of attack. Especially considering the danger posed by a jaguar potentially on the loose in the tunnels (though I rather think he or she has left the Labyrinth by now in search of food).

Of course, our close encounter has changed how we operate. One of del Vega’s men now accompany all tunnel teams, their surly expressions suggesting they are anything but happy about this. If any of us ever brave an overnight experience in the tunnels again, two of the militiamen must accompany us, with one remaining on guard at all times.

But those are all future plans. This week, we spiced up the routine by relocating the four tunnel teams and McKinney, her ever-present film crew minions, del Vega and most of his men, to the Jaguar Cave.

I very much hope the beast is long gone. While I appreciate the danger it poses, I can’t bear the thought of del Vega’s itchy trigger finger harming something so magnificent.

Following the ‘incident’, we missed two days’ worth of tunnel work. So, on Wednesday morning, we packed our gear – mattocks, pickaxes and shovels, enough food and water for several days, and our sleeping bags and mats – then headed out. We trekked across the densely forested summit, and by mid-morning, we had arrived at the mouth of the cave. Del Vega’s men had already rigged up some ropes to aid us in abseiling into the cave. Others remained on guard below, burning a large fire around an impromptu camp on the other side of a subterranean pool. A large hole in the ceiling allowed the smoke to escape, and after wading through the pool’s cold water, we were all thankful for the warmth of the fire, despite the heat outside.

After a late lunch, del Vega guided us to the far corner of the cave, where the soldiers had secured another series of ropes to help us climb down the hole into the tunnels.

It would have been easier, of course, to have journeyed through the Labyrinth, but we needed to make camp in the cave. We couldn’t risk damaging the Labyrinth by an extended stay of so many people in a confined space, and we certainly couldn’t have a fire for warmth or cooking in the tunnels. So it made sense to enter via the Jaguar Cave entrance.

Juan and Alverez, two of del Vega’s men who are structural engineers, had already ensured the collapsed tunnel was safe. The soldiers had brought in a series of acrow props and wooden boards from the Equipment Tent to shore up the damaged area. More were en route from Caracas, courtesy of the expedition supply helicopter.

And so we got to work, using mattocks and pickaxes to dig into the landslide, shovels to shove the spoil into buckets and a human chain to carry the buckets up into the cave and build a spoil heap.

And that’s what we’ve been doing for the last four days – digging slowly but surely. We stop to allow Juan and Alverez to conduct safety checks. Then we dig some more. We stop to let the soldiers shore up newly exposed sections of the tunnel. Then we dig. We stop to check through the spoil, hoping to find something of archaeological value. Then, you guessed it, we dig.

Each night we’ve huddled around the fire in the cave and eaten basic camp meals (a sh*tload of rice and pasta). Despite the hard, uneven floor beneath our sleep mats, the vague smell of ‘cat’ in the air and the piles of discarded, hopefully, non-human bones scattered around, none of us have had any trouble letting exhaustion drag us into sleep. For the first two nights anyway.

In the third, we were awoken around 3 am by a burst of gunfire and lots of shouting in Spanish. One of del Vega’s men insists he saw the jaguar slinking down the steep slope from the cave entrance, but there were apparently no footprints or other signs of his presence.

Since then, we’ve seen and heard nothing more about potential jaguar sightings. Nor have we found anything of value in the giant mounds of earth we’ve excavated from down below. At least, not beyond a handful of bones that Nadia believes are animal rather than human. It probably came from the cave floor when it collapsed into the tunnels.

Most of us so-called ‘Burrowers’ grew impatient yesterday (Saturday). Monday is the expedition’s first changeover day when the teams swap between the tunnels, the summit dig, the sinkhole and the ground excavations. As always happens on any excavation, after the hard work and determination doing the grunt work, one fears being rotated away only for the next team of excavators to finish your job and make a major discovery.

So we were all excited this morning when Juan announced that he reckoned there was only a metre or so of rubble left to dig through. We all waited, impatient, as they erected more acrow props and then, once safe, we started hacking with abandon at the remains of the blockage.

McKinney went into full TV presenter mode, leering into the cameras with her forced smile. As the blockage shrunk, the excitement grew. What would we find on the other side? A tomb? A throne room? A shrine?

The worst possibility was that it was simply a continuation of the tunnel, and following it would lead to some or all of the above.

That was when the blockage finally gave way, coming down with more triumph than the Berlin Wall. That was when McKinney pushed herself into the limelight, scrambling for the cameras to record her being the first one through. That was when Karen asked her question.

“Can you see anything?”

But instead of regurgitating Howard Carter’s famous words when he became the first person to set eyes on Tutankhamun’s tomb in 5000 years, her voice dropped.

“A dead-end,” she said, then turned and glowered at me. “A dead fucking end.”

Okay, so maybe a continuation of the passageway wasn’t the worst possible outcome!

Of course, on cue, McKinney commenced her expected furious diatribe. She cursed herself for listening to my (not our, as in Sid, Nadia and I, but my) ridiculous suggestion that we had found the Labyrinth’s main avenue. She condemned my rash assumption that this was the case. She ranted about the waste of time, effort and resources expended digging through tons of earth and rubble by hand only to find a dead end.

I won’t bore you with details of the raging argument heated academic discussion that followed.

Suffice it to say, having cemented McKinney’s animosity and stirred up resentment among all the others who dug, toiled, sweat and bled alongside us all week, it’s a good thing we’re heading to the Jungle Camp tomorrow.

Exhausted and demoralised, after a brief exploration of the two metres of newly excavated tunnel leading to a very solid wall, we began packing up our equipment.

Archaeology is a game of chance. Sure, some would argue that it is a game of strategy, knowledge and skill, utilising years of knowledge and insight into ancient people’s thoughts, actions and behaviour. Howard Carter didn’t stumble upon Tut’s tomb by sheer dumb luck, but he did gamble. He gambled everything on an educated guess that the tomb was out there and had been missed by tomb robbers. And that, perhaps, is the best we can hope for: an educated guess that pays off.

Mine didn’t.

Benjamin King

My name is Dr Benjamin King, and I am an archaeologist working on the UNESCO Sarisariñama Expedition. Join me on my epic journey to one of the most remote places on the planet – a tabletop mountain towering above the Venezuelan rainforest. This will be my home for six months as my colleagues and I attempt to unravel the mystery of the ancient ruins that lie buried within an enormous sinkhole. Not only do I blog updates about the project, but also the trials and tribulations of life in the jungle. Something tells me that the danger of the jungle’s predators is nothing compared to the perils of being trapped with the same group of people for the next six months! Don’t miss out on a single moment of this extraordinary adventure - follow me on social media @benking1209 Benjamin King is also the fictional hero of the action-packed adventure series ‘The Xibalba Saga’ by James Richardson. Read it now https://amzn.to/3dD9wZW Stay up to date on new releases and exclusive free content at www.moonmask.net and @worldofmoonmask

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