Jessica Berry
Flinders University 2007 Field School
in Underwater Archaeology
6 February 2007
By Jessica Berry

If you managed to catch yesterday's account of Red Team’s three-day excursion at the former site of the nineteenth century baths you will be relieved to learn that Karson (yesterday's author) is much less pink, and has established more of a matt sheen.

The day began in earnest when we realised simultaneously that we have a team anthem - Justin Timberlake's Bringing Sexy Back. Who ever said that maritime archaeologists dont have fun?

Where yesterday we were trying to stand up in hammocks, (as Bluffers Guide to Archaeology usefully described the act of practising archaeology underwater), today we were sitting. Things went much more smoothly as we decided to not try to bite off more than we could chew. All went terrifically as we marked a perimeter with four weighted buoys. Low tide, though, does bring with it its very own entertainment all three of us trying to navigate our site in wetsuits and fins in 1 cm of water with great thickets of protruding seaweed. If a seal ever planned to mow the lawn, this is probably how he would do it.

Divers gearing up while a horse tram rolls by.

Divers gearing up while a horse tram rolls by.

Full of excitement for a well-executed morning we retired for coffee until we realised we were in a great hurry to use our total station before the tide came too high. In the end though, after about one hour spent wondering about Victor Harbor semi-dressed in wet suits and pyjamas seeking survey markers and looking like we were on a day-release scheme from the local asylum, I jumped into the water with the prism. The excitement of using the total station lasted about 30 minutes until the supposedly full battery expired. Hey ho.

Not to be undone, Red Team took samples of flora and fauna - some truly edible-looking bits of weed included - rose from the water in the gathering 15 knot winds, and headed gratefully back to the van and Justin Timberlake. We are now working on a dance routine.

The only casualty of the day? My missing snorkel, lost to the deep.

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