As a prehistorian I'm used to digging sites on open hillsides or out in huge expanses of river gravel terraces, with massive quarry machines thundering by at all hours of the day and night. It's very rare indeed that I have to peer around in thick undergrowth to discover archaeology. But that's what Time Team had to do in July 2010 when we excavated the remains of an Industrial Revolution iron-working site at Derwentcote on the southern banks of the River Derwent, County Durham.
The site had been known about for many years and large parts had been protected by legislation, but even so, all the remains were being damaged by the roots of trees and shrubs of a very dense woodland which was growing thicker every year, fed by the rich soils of the river valley. When I visited the site I could spot a few obvious things: dead straight artificial stream channels that led to long-vanished water wheels; a few walls of buildings and a road that seemed to run straight through the entire complex and a large, but almost completely over-grown pond or reservoir. But that was about it. To be honest, my heart sunk. I could see that there was loads of archaeology there, but where could we start? There were trees in the way everywhere. Using a digger was likely to prove very dangerous: cut through a major tree root and then watch while everyone runs for their lives...
I returned to our hotel an older if not a wiser man. Phil Harding offered to buy me a beer at the bar.
'You look gloomy, Francis,' he said, whacking my back with an arm as big as a fat Wiltshire ham. We found ourselves somewhere quiet to sit. He'd been to the site too. After a gloomy pint we both agreed on two things. First, the site was a jungle, but second we could crack it if we stuck to the basic archaeological rule: work from the known to the unknown. We knew that in the 17th and 18th centuries, before the introduction of efficient steam engines, all industrial processes were powered by water. So we decided that those streams we'd both glimpsed beneath the undergrowth held the key to the site.
The next morning we started work while Tony was doing his initial piece-to-camera. We found the channels almost impossible to follow, but couldn't use noisy chain-saws while the filming was underway. It was incredibly frustrating, and I became ratty with everyone - even with Phil, who just grinned and looked wise. I could have kicked him.
Eventually we had three teams working with chainsaws and by lunch on Day 1 we could follow watercourses from one building to another. Then we started to investigate that large pond and soon realised it wasn't natural, but was actually part of a highly sophisticated water-management system that powered a series of wheels. It was the 18th century equivalent of a modern electricity grid system, where every ounce of available energy was put to effective use in the various forges, furnaces and workshops of the factory complex.
By the end of three days we'd cracked the site and understood its history pretty thoroughly. It turned out to be exceptionally important. I've done many digs for Time Team, and this one had been a real gamble. But we didn't panic. Sometimes it pays to follow the simplest of rules. It really does. Looking back, it seems there aren't many problems that a few glasses of good English Real Ale can't sort out - at least that's what Phil assures me. And of course he's always right.
