6:05 am…electronic beeping wakes me from my deep sleep.  I hate alarm clocks: they must be the worst invention ever.  I slowly clamber out of bed, dreading turning my lamp on and blinding myself.  I do, and I am blind for 20 seconds.  The early start is necessary due to the frequency of the rain in Mexico.  You could set your clocks to it during the rainy season, right around 2:30 or 3:00 in the afternoon, the rains start. And believe me, in the field with heavy equipment is that last place you want to be.

We drive to our wonderful sight, the drive being a delight as well.  We make our way through small rural towns, surrounded by corn fields and pasture land.  Half paved, half dirt road, we make our way slowly, trying not to run over the many stray dogs wandering around.  We also have to dodge cows, most of which are usually indifferent to our presence and content upon their middle-of-the-road paths they take to the next pasture field.  Then we head down the aptly named “turkey alley” where numerous turkey and chickens like to run right in front of our cars and stop the convoy.  I say hit the things and we will have a nice dinner.  Most of the crew don’t share my sentiments.

Once parked, the hike to the site is, well, let’s say invigorating.  We hike across open fields at first, and then up hill through hidden corn fields, and then over a few stone walls until we hit our area.  From there we are in pretty dense, jungle-like forest, and are dodging all the trees and shrubs that, with the morning mist, soak our clothes.  We hike uphill again, a nice morning wake up to the senses.  Huffing and puffing now, we try and regain our strength, and hike to where we left off yesterday.  The process is this, we move through the jungle and map and record every structure we find, making artifact collection along the way.

Every hill we venture over, every turn we make, something new awaits us.  A room block connected by huge walls, a small house mound, or a plaza surrounded by what used to be residences and possible public areas.  If you can imagine the area devoid of trees and shrubs, it is quite amazing how the structures are related and how beautiful the scenery is.  You can imagine the inhabitants of this settlement 100 years ago: waking early in the morning to collect wood, starting to make food for the day, or reworking their tools in order to hunt and make crafts.  Smoke rises from the houses that, in the present, are mere rubble piles.  Children are laughing, old women making food, and people bustle in and out of the open plaza that I am now standing in the middle of, alone.  Then I set about mapping these long ago fallen and abandoned structures, and collecting the refuse from the people that once called this specific area home.

The day ends, and we head back down our trail in the hot sun, trying to beat the oncoming grey clouds that move slowly towards us from the high hills to the south.  We can already spot the rain coming down.  On the radio, we call to the other crew that they have about 15 minutes to finish up and move out, or else they will be pulling out their rain jackets.  We are all beat, but we cannot help to share our stories from the day, reciting the jokes, describing the finds, or just singing along to the radio.  The Beatles are on.  Excellent.