Cliffs and counterfeits


During my archaeological excavation in Israel, I had a unique and very memorable experience that taught me some valuable lessons. I was working on the steep, sea-facing side of the tel or hill, digging a vertical trench to expose the underlying layers. At one point, one of the cute coeds working with me dropped a bucket and it rolled down towards the beach. I gallantly volunteered to retrieve it.
I made my way carefully down the steep slope that was covered with shale and potsherds. At one point, as I was checking for where to step, I saw what appeared to be a fragment of deep black glazed pottery. This type of finish is very distinctive to pottery made in Greece from about 600-400 BCE. Finding a piece of it here would be a great clue that there had been trade between our site and the advanced civilization of the upper Mediterranean. As I bent down to pick it up, I felt my feet slip out from under me. I quickly slid down the steep slope and over the cliff.
I had managed to go feet-first, face-up. The cliff, I estimate, was about 40 feet high, down onto hard-packed sand. I remember thinking I should bend my knees to help absorb the shock. As I hit the ground, my knees slammed up into my chin, knocking my glasses off and knocking me temporarily out cold. I don't know how long I was there, but as I came to I started feeling around for my glasses. I wore heavy prescription lenses at the time and desperately needed them to see, but they were nowhere to be found. I tried to stand but my left ankle hurt terribly. About this time, a group of Israeli soldiers who were patrolling the beach saw me crumple from the pain and came over to help; they loaded me in their jeep and took me around the hill to where our camp was.
Our camp doctor diagnosed my ankle as a severe sprain and told me to stay off it for a while. That was almost impossible for me to do, given the setting and the desire I had to stay involved. We fashioned a crude crutch from a tree branch and I hobbled along. The evening of my fall, one of the advisers in our group, a wonderful man named Owen Bennion, went out to the beach and said a prayer, then promptly found my glasses buried in some soft sand several yards away from where I had fallen.
I tried to be careful with my ankle. Eventually it started feeling better. Towards the end of our excavation, my curiosity was overwhelming and I had to go back and find the piece of pottery that had caused the fall. I was extremely careful, and eventually found and retrieved the fragment safely. Taking it back to camp, we analyzed it, and the camp directors agreed that it was a common imitation of the Greek original. I FELL FOR A FAKE!! It was a little disconcerting. (I would have loved to bring the sherd home, but that was not permitted. I later was able to purchase an authentic Greek sherd - see the attached photo.)
I finished the time in Israel and then limped around Europe for three months. When I finally got home, an x-ray showed that there had been a hairline fracture in the ankle. I was grateful that I was able to fulfill my plans in spite of the injury.
In retrospect, I #GiveThanks for lessons learned:
- if you know you're going to be close to the edge of a cliff, you'd better know what you're doing!
- be very careful about distractions at critical times
- don't fall for fakes
- be sure to get good medical attention when it's needed
- trust good friends who look out for your welfare in the best ways



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