Well as we got further in, the digging got harder and harder, my partner behind me pulled the dirt bucket out with a rope and I employed the garden claw and crow bar.
It was not long before I was exhausted. Excavation such as this in soggy, crowded, quarters gives one a whole new perspective on a ground hog’s qualities. Large spiders crowded into every crevice in the roof above and thick pink earthwormsflourished in their thousands in the damp earth. The floor was composed of damp casings – the stench of stale cigars staining my nostrils as I scraped away. It was the variety of fecal matter – all kinds and compositions suggesting to me that I was likely not the only creature in there.
My partner spotted as I wriggled and dug my way forward. Not being able to lift my head he watched for the possible contact with some delicate calcite spine – “You still got 2 inches – slide left – getting too tight”. I had eventually built up a large mound in front and further progress in combination with my four hour’s sleep the night before seemed less and less appealing.