As was the case on most mornings, Joseph was occupying the focal point of their present efforts.
Miriam couldn’t help but notice how the other members of the dig flocked around him as he squatted before a roped-off, twelve-inch sector of dirt. With his tanned back glistening in the early morning sun, he gently probed the earth with a hand-sized shovel.
Whatever he had chanced upon must have been of some significance, for a ripple of excited chatter coursed through the crowd of onlookers gathered at his sides. Curious as to what he had found, Miriam left her perch on the ridge’s summit and climbed down into the excavation area.
By the time she reached her fellow crew members, Joseph had exhumed a large, circular object from its earthen grave. Completely covered by a thick hemp net, it was recognized by Miriam as being one of the lap-sized sandstone bowls which the Chumash were famous for. As Joseph began carefully shaking the dirt from its inner cavity, it became obvious that this artifact was far from normal. Two novel designs made this most apparent.
Miriam was first attracted to the bowl’s lip. There the outer edge was completely encircled with a series of intricately formed five-pointed stars. These tiny penta grams were apparently made from shell and abalone bits, which were stuck into the rock lip with asphaltum. Such a tedious process had to have taken hundreds of hours to complete, and could have only been reserved for the most sacred of purposes.
Though the outer surface of the bowl was bare of design, its inner skin was not. Though it was still covered by caked layers of dirt, a unique series of concentric circles was visible, painted into the relic’s bottom. Miriam recognized the bright yellow central disc as being representative of the sun. She failed to understand the significance of the thick black and red rings that encircled this disc several times.
As the bowl was placed on the ground for all to see, it was most apparent that Joseph was genuinely thrilled by his discovery. Cognizant of this fact, Miriam broke her silence.
“That’s a beauty, Joseph. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a Chumash bowl decorated in such a manner before.”
Breathlessly, Joseph responded, “Neither have I, Boss, although I must admit that I’ve heard of such a motif’s supposed existence before.”
“How’s that?” asked Miriam, who now had the attention of the rest of her crew.
Aware of his audience, Joseph picked his words carefully.
“It was my grandfather who first told me the tales of the spirit bowl in whose bottom was captured the sun and in whose lip was encased the stars of the heavens. Designed by the greatest of shamans, it was supposedly stolen by the crafty coyote, who snagged it in a net and took it from our land for all time.”
At that point one of the students hastily asked a question.
“Joseph, since your tribe lived in northern California, couldn’t this Chumash design be totally unrelated to your grandfather’s tale?”
Catching the alert eyes of the young man who waited for an answer, Joseph replied, “As I’ve told you before, even though the Porno lived in the north, our mythology and that of the Chumash were amazingly similar. Many say the Porno were but an offshoot of the Chumash, who subsequently migrated northwards. Whatever the case, both peoples tell of a spirit bowl designed in a fashion much like the one here. Both tribes tell of this bowl’s similar purpose, which is to indicate the site where the souls of the newly dead pass into the afterlife.”
“Then we’ve found the portal to Similaqsa!” exclaimed Miriam triumphantly.
Before Joseph could respond, an unexpected noise diverted the crew’s attention. Each member looked to the south, where a single blue jeep was visible, making its way to the summit of Tranquillon Ridge.
Less than a minute later, the four-wheel-drive vehicle pulled up beside the excavation site, leaving a thick cloud of brown dust in its wake. The jeep’s three occupants were quick to exit. Miriam could only identify one of these individuals, for she had had run ins with Master Sergeant Crowley on several occasions before.
The thick-necked, stocky sergeant led the way, followed by his two smartly uniformed escorts. It was most obvious that both of these no-nonsense-looking young men wore side arms. As they approached the crew, Miriam stepped out to greet them.
“Good morning, Sergeant Crowley. Can I help you?”
The sergeant hastily surveyed the ragtag group gathered before him and answered, “Good morning to you, Miss Rodgers. Is your entire group assembled here?”
Not sure what he was getting at, Miriam retorted, “This is all of us, Sergeant. Why do you ask?”
Crowley cleared his throat.
“I’m here to relay orders from Lieutenant Colonel Lansford’s office, ma’am. According to these instructions, you and your crew are to leave Tranquillon Ridge at once. We have been assigned to escort you back to your campsite at Ocean Beach Park.”
Not believing what she was hearing, Miriam was not in the least bit intimidated.
“We’re in the midst of an important excavation here. Sergeant. We just can’t go leaving it at the drop of a hat. Besides, we have the lieutenant’s colonel’s personal permission to dig here uninterrupted through the summer.”
“I’m afraid that permission has been temporarily lifted, ma’am,” returned the master sergeant, who went on to check his wristwatch.
“Now, if you’ll just stow your equipment, we’d better get under way.”
Still not about to give in so easily, Miriam was set to continue to argue their case when Joseph stepped to her side. Whispering into her ear, he attempted to calm her down.
“Say, Boss, do you really think we’ve got a chance against these guys? Those are forty-five-caliber pistols on their hips. Let’s lick our wounds back at camp. At least there we can call the lead honcho and find out what all this is about.”
Well aware of the wisdom in these words, Miriam caught her assistant’s playful wink. Stifling a smile of her own, she reluctantly surrendered to their new order. Though it would mean the loss of a perfectly good day’s field work, there was plenty to keep them busy back at their trailers. Mentally calculating what this new course of action would entail, she knew that her own first priority would be a single phone call
Ocean Beach Park was located approximately five and a half miles due north of Tranquillon Ridge.
Situated at the spot where the Santa Ynez River flowed into the Pacific, the park was one of the few areas on Vandenberg open to the public. It was comprised of a large asphalt parking lot and over one hundred acres of direct beach access. To get from the lot to the sand, it was necessary to travel a narrow dirt trail that led beneath a Southern Pacific railroad trestle. From there it was but a short hike to the pounding surf itself.
It had taken the direct authority of the base commander for Miriam and her group to be allowed to park their trailers there. After a bit of bargaining, they had been given a compact sector of ground located immediately east of the trestle. Though they had no direct ocean view, this positioning allowed them to be sheltered from the persistent, often blustery offshore winds that swept in from the Pacific.
The crew’s four travel trailers had been parked in a semicircle. At the center of this semicircle, several picnic tables had been set up. It was there, when weather permitted, that meals were eaten and artifacts catalogued. This evening, the group had gathered around a large campfire, which had been built beside the table area. Sipping their teas, coffees, and hot chocolates, they watched the crackling flames and contemplated the day’s strange turn of events.