Contexts of Natural-cultural History: A 3500-year Record at Ritidian in Guam

Guam’s Hidden Gem Archaeological and historical studies at Ritidian

edited by

Mike T. Carson

BAR International Series 26632014

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Guam’s Hidden Gem: Archaeological and historical studies at Ritidian

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Contexts of natural-cultural history: A 3500-year record at Ritidian in Guam

Mike T. Carson

ABSTRACT: The Ritidian Site in Guam holds a full-spectrum record of 3500 years of natural and cultural history of the Mariana Islands, now preserved within the Ritidian Unit of Guam National Wildlife Refuge. The site has produced substantive information from each major episode of human-environment relations in the remote Pacific Islands region. Ritidian ranks among the oldest of all known archaeological sites where human beings first lived in a Remote Oceanic environment, about 3500 years ago. The site contains abundant material evidence about the interplay between cultural activities and environmental change over the following centuries and millennia. The resulting high-resolution integrated natural-cultural history is so far unparalleled in the region. This summary reviews the holistic chronological sequence at Ritidian, proposes new research questions, and relates this information in larger contexts.

Introduction Ritidian means many things for people in different perspectives, sometimes with ardent debates, and it even goes by variable names and spellings. The diverse opinions and interpretations speak volumes of Ritidan’s powerful effects on people. Today, Ritidian is known as an archaeological site, as a place where important historical events occurred, as a home of preserved forest habitat, as a spiritual retreat, as an example of land-ownership struggles in Guam, and as much more. Among the many studies related to the site, Ritidian is recognised as one of the oldest known habitation sites in the Marianas and indeed in the entirety of the Remote Oceanic world (Figures 1 and 2). Despite divergent opinions, all can agree that Ritidian is imbued with immeasurable potency for studies of both natural history and cultural history, and logically the two are inherently connected. At present, Ritidian is a rare protected landscape in Guam (Figure 3), where visitors can experience a precious habitat that reverberates with a deep heritage. Important-ly, the opportunities for research, learning, and appre-ciation are accessible for all members of the public, supported year-round by US Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) in the Ritidian Unit of Guam National Wildlife Refuge (GNWR). Few places on earth offer the same opportunities. How can we begin to understand the profundity and complexity of Ritidian’s integrated natural-cultural history? Toward this end, the present volume incor-porates eight chapters by different researchers. 1) This introductory chapter provides a chronological

narrative of landscape evolution at Ritidian over the last 3500 years, within which numerous contexts can be identified for further study.

2) Carlos Madrid presents a broad-perspective historical

view of life at Ritidian during the 1600s through 1800s, noting the role of Ritidian in linking communities between Guam and Rota, across the Rota Channel.

3) Drawing on both archaeological and historical evidence, Andrea Jalandoni investigates the mysteries surrounding a lost early Spanish-era settlement at Ritidian.

4) Based on their research in and around Ritidian in northern Guam, Boyd Dixon and Richard Schaefer develop a novel approach for understanding traditional land-use patterns prior to Spanish conquest.

5) Michael Clement, Sr. explores the historical legacy of Chief Apuro, the last recognised native leader at Ritidian in the 1600s.

6) As an admirable example of making archaeology relevant for modern society, John A. Peterson presents the findings of several years of sustained community engagement and university education in archaeology programs at Ritidian.

7) I report about research of megalithic latte ruins and associated findings in the eastern portion of Ritidian, undertaken as part of a 2010 student training program through University of Guam.

8) In concluding this volume, I collaborate with co-authors Boyd Dixon, John A. Peterson, and Andrea Jalandoni for considering issues of how to define the archaeological site complex at Ritidian, with variable possible interpretations.

Together with prior published work, the present volume conveys a sense of the current knowledge of archaeological and historical studies at Ritidian. In addition to these pages, readers are encouraged to consult with other literature (Bayman et al. 2012a, 2012b; Carson 2010, 2012a; Jalandoni 2011, 2012; Kurashina 1990). Ideally, more publications still are expected as studies continue. Ritidian contains material records from the entire 3500 years of human habitation in the Mariana Islands, and certainly the contexts of cultural activities changed considerably during this impressive time-span. Events of the 1600s may relate closely to events of the 1500s or 1700s, but how did they relate to events 1000, 2000, or even 3000 years earlier? How will they relate to events 50, 100, or 500 years in the future? The notion of context is essential for understanding how and why cultural events occurred in their defined place and time. Ritidian offers an exceptionally rare opportunity to examine long-term changing contexts of the environ-mental and social setting of a singular place over 3500 years of human habitation. This one place contains a vastly informative record over an impressive length of time. This record is priceless for a baseline chronological sequence in the Marianas region, but it is much more than that. The Ritidian case serves as an ideal model for learning about the fundamental inter-relations between people and

Guam’s Hidden Gem: Archaeological and Historical Studies at Ritidian

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Figure 1. Archaeological dating of human settlement in the Asia-Pacific region.

Figure 2. Ritidian in northern Guam, Mariana Islands. their inhabited environment. This powerfully absorbing place embodies the results of long-term co-evolving natural and cultural histories, still ongoing today. We can examine how these contexts changed over time, and we can learn how today’s natural-cultural landscape came to exist. This outlook opens new possibilities for research of human-environment relations at a global scale.

This summary follows a simple chronological outline, portraying the physical and social context of each time interval, continuously from first settlement 3500 years ago up through the present day. Much of this work is based on a geoarchaeological investigation of the integrated natural-cultural history of Ritidian (Carson 2012a), bringing new evidence to bear on an earlier pioneering study (Kurashina 1990). Wherever possible, readers are referred to additional sources for more details. The contexts of each time-interval act as catalysts for addressing various research questions, and further questions may be asked about how these different contexts relate to each other. Answers are not always clear, and investigations will need to continue. More questions inevitably will develop as the ancient contexts become better studied.

Building the research program Before outlining the contexts of time intervals at Ritidian, a brief prelude can describe how the baseline primary data-set was assembled. Most of the field research occurred 2006–11, although its roots extend deeper and its branches continue growing. The following summary builds on another report, published separately (Carson 2012a). My first experience at Ritidian was in January 1998, as part of my introduction to Guam and Marianas archaeology. In the aftermath of a super-typhoon, Ritidian was calm among a scene of fallen trees and

Carson: Contexts of natural-cultural history: a 3500-year record at Ritidian in Guam

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Figure 3. Overview of Ritidian.

Figure 4. White-sand beach at Ritidian today. storm-surge debris. While my companions that day admired the clear lagoon, stunning white-sand beach (Figure 4), and dramatic limestone cliff-line, my attention was fixed on the coastal landforms, where I was convinced of finding an ancient buried archaeological site. I imagined that one of the region’s oldest site deposits was buried there, at least 1–2 m deep, along an ancient shoreline that now was stranded at least 100 inland from today’s beautiful shore, somewhere in the zone close to the base of the inland cliff-line (Figure 5). What prompted my playful fantasy about an ancient site at Ritidian? At that time in early 1998, knowledge about changing sea level was just then taking clear shape. In theory, the ocean prior to 3000 years ago was somewhat higher than today’s level (Mitrovica and Peltier 1991). This hypothesis was tested in the Pacific Islands, where tidal notches marked the past sea-level elevation, coupled

with emerged coral reefs that supplied direct radiocarbon dating. Data-sets were being compiled in the Mariana Islands (Kayanne et al. 1993), including observations at Ritidian (Randall 1990). More robust data-sets soon would leave no doubt about the Marianas regional sea-level history (Dickinson 2000, 2001, 2003), although the implications for archaeological study would need some time for their full appreciation. Prior to 3000 years ago, when people first came to the Mariana Islands, the sea level was about 1.8 m higher than it is today (Figure 6). Accordingly, the coastal landforms and ecologies must have been very different from today’s conditions. If we can understand how the coastal environments have transformed, then we can begin to understand better about where to search for buried archaeological sites. We further can comprehend better about what contexts the coastal ecosystems offered


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Figure 5. Coastal plain landform at Ritidian, showing location of deeply buried palaeo-shoreline site deposit.

Figure 6. Sea-level history of Marianas region (data from Dickinson 2000, 2001, 2003). for the people living there at different times. Instead of trying to interpret the ancient past from our modern-age observations of the world as we know it today, we can capture a sense of the original contexts and allow the past to speak more for itself. In addition to the local sea-level history, the evolution of coastal landforms can be studied in the composition of the terrain and structural geology. At Ritidian and other sandy beaches of the Marianas, two major types of beach-sand matrix can be discerned (Randall 1990). One type is composed of eroded calcareous material, mostly from shells and corals, deposited incrementally in beds of storm-surge debris, eventually building volumes of coastal terrain. Another type is composed of more intact algal bioclasts and lagoon facies material, stranded along the relict palaeo-shorelines after the sea level lowered. What makes the sand composition so important? In places where palaeo-lagoon or palaeo-beach deposits can be identified, their associated landforms reveal the location, depth, and age of places where people potentially could have created ancient habitation sites, now preserved as archaeological layers. When exploring the setting at Ritidan, I saw that today’s land surfaces were made of the storm-surge type of sandy layer deposition, in many places mixed with organic soil formation. In the scattered instances of uprooted trees and crab burrows, though, I observed that lagoon facies

materials were buried, giving clues about the older landscape structure. While I dreamily explored the landscape at Ritidian for the first time, I was aware of a prior study by Hiro Kurashina and colleagues nearly one decade earlier, within the footprint of the former US Navy facilities known as NAVFAC Ritidian Point (Kurashina 1990). I had read a copy of the project report on file in the library of the Guam Historic Preservation Office, and I began to see for myself in person at the site about the great significance of the research. It was a visionary multi-disciplinary approach for a holistic comprehension of the ancient landscape setting at Ritidian, combining coastal geomorphology, sedimentology, ethnohistory, and archaeological excavations. The prior work by necessity was confined to a small footprint where access was allowed at the time, so the pioneering study still could be expanded into a larger area with even greater research potential. Indeed, standing there in person, I could imagine no better place for this scope of research. As a student of Pacific Islands archaeology, I was intensely drawn to the potential for linking archaeological chronologies with coastal landform evolution, but in the late 1990s I could not find many “proof of concept” examples that used convincing real-life data within the Pacific Islands region. In particular, I wanted to know about the interplay of changing sea level, beach-formation processes, and human use of coastal landforms. I found inspiration in one study that integrated coastal geomorphology with archaeology at the ancient site of Tarague in Guam (Kurashina and Clayshulte 1983a, 1983b), as well as one other reported for a site in Tonga (Dickinson et al. 1994). Much work still needed to be done if I wanted to pursue this topic, but meanwhile I could refer at least to these two successful studies. As strongly as I was interested in Ritidian and other sites of the Marianas, the practicalities of my career took me elsewhere for a few years. By the time I returned to the Mariana Islands in 2005, the most convincing studies of sea-level history had been published (Dickinson 2000, 2001, 2003), and meanwhile I had gained years of experience excavating coastal sites throughout the Pacific region and contextualizing archaeology with coastal geomorphology (e.g., Carson 2004, 2008a). I had learned how to coordinate archaeological findings with studies of coastal evolution, and at least a few other similar studies were underway independently by colleagues working in other parts of the Pacific (e.g., Dickinson and Burley 2007; Nunn 2005, 2007). I also learned that general issues about landscape evolution were gaining recog-nition among other professional archaeologists working at Ritidian (e.g., Dixon 2000), so I was not alone in my thinking or in identifying Ritidian as an important place for this scope of research. In 2005, two strokes of luck propelled my research back at Ritidian. First, I had the blessed fortune of excavating at Unai Bapot in Saipan, where I verified a buried coastal


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Figure 7. Island-wide palaeo-terrain model of Guam, comparing (A) modern conditions versus (B) ancient first-settlement conditions 1500 –1000 B.C. (from Carson 2011). habitation slightly more than 3500 years old (Carson 2005a, 2008b). Later in the same year, I had an unexpected opportunity to excavate at Ritidian as part of a routine resource management project, where at last I began to apply a long-brewing research model (Carson 2005b). By the end of 2005, enough evidence was available to confirm very ancient settlement in the Marianas at least 3500 years ago, plus Ritidian showed exciting promise for exploring more about long-term landscape evolution in tandem with archaeological evidence of cultural activities. In cooperation with US Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), I began a research program in limited fashion in 2005 and then in earnest in 2006 at the Ritidian Unit of Guam National Wildlife Refuge (GNWR). This program grew to include student training programs in archaeology by University of Guam after 2007 and University of Hawaii after 2008 (Bayman et al. 2012a, 2012b; Peterson, this volume). Generous funding was granted for certain parts of these studies by Guam Preservation Trust. This work was sustained through 2011, and the research resumed once more in 2013 with funding from the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation in Taiwan. The research program continues to grow, thanks to the essential support of USFWS. Several different archaeological studies were conducted at Ritidian, including many by others independently and not just by myself, but my primary focus here is about the program for studying the last 3500 years of landscape evolution. This research involved survey of the

landforms, 77 controlled test-pit excavations for sampling key portions of the landscape, full analysis of recovered artefacts and archaeo-faunal records, 30 radiocarbon dates from secure contexts, and high-resolution rendering of the palaeo-terrain setting. The results were greatly informative not only for Ritidian itself but also as part of an island-wide study of Guam’s palaeo-habitat structure (Carson 2011, 2014a) (Figure 7).

Research Excavations The most crucial data collection was possible through a series of 77 test-pits that revealed stratigraphic layers in measurable locations, depths, and dates, often but not always containing cultural materials. Each test-pit was 1 by 1 m in plan and excavated a deep as was safely possible, in most cases well below 2 m depth. The full set of 77 test-pits proceeded when time allowed from 2005 through 2013. Of the 77 test-pit excavations for this study, most (67) were excavated in 2006–11, augmented by two in 2005 and another eight in 2013. The distributions are shown in Figure 8. The two test-pits in 2005 (ER-1 and 2) were excavated as part of an emergency recovery of human remains that has been disturbed by pig-burrowing in the Wildlife Refuge (Carson 2005b). This work was performed under contract to USFWS, when I was an employee of International Archaeological Research Institute, Inc. (IARII). My field assistants Rick Schaefer and Sandra Lee Yee helped in recovering the disturbed remains, excavating two formal test pits, and documenting the contexts of the findings. The formal research program began in 2006, with a set of 41 test-pits (FL-1 through 41) along and around a planned fenceline for protecting the native vegetation in the Wildlife Refuge, but this fence later was dismantled. During my free time of afternoons and weekends over the course of a few years, I personally dug 32 of those 41 test-pits by myself, and I am grateful to those who volunteered to assist with the nine others, including Matt Brown, Lon Bulgrin, Joey Condit, Leonard Iriarte, John Peterson, Virginia Peterson, Rick Schaefer, Chris Walker, Sam Walker, Joan Wozniak, and Sandra Lee Yee. For one of the most productive test pits in 2008, I had the pleasure of working with the Historic Preservation Office technical staff from the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands (Diego Camacho, Tommy Leon Guerrero, and Roque Magofna) and from the Republic of Palau (Calvin Emesiochel and Errolflynn Kloulechad) (Figure 9). In 2008 through 2009, I re-excavated many of the same test-pits of the fenceline series. I wanted to dig deeper to ensure that any potentially older buried deposits were not missed. This portion of the pit-digging program finally was completed by 2009. Later in 2009, I excavated a new series of seven test-pits in the area of a planned walking path near the Ritidian


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Figure 8. Distribution of geoarchaeological test pits at Ritidian.

Figure 9. Saipan and Palau HPO staff at Ritidian, 2009. Gate Cave, also known as the “grotto” area. I am thankful to Hiro Kurashina, Dick Randall, and Brett Silk for their voluteered labour in sifting for tiny artefacts and midden in the 1-mm mesh screen. These seven test-pit designa-tions were numbered WP-2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9. Another test-pit (WP-1) previously was excavated by John A. Peterson (this volume) in 2008. One more test-pit (WP-3) was excavated directly adjoining my WP-2 by Patrick O’Day as part of his doctoral dissertation project, still in process as of 2014 at University of Florida.

In 2010 through 2011, I expanded the test-pit program for a more complete sampling of the coastal plain landform, including areas where I did not necessarily expect to find ancient buried deposits. I proceeded with transect-lines of test-pits, designated TL-1 through 18. These results gave more confidence of the overall palaeo-terrain model. By 2011, the test-pit results appeared reasonable for a large-scale picture of the landform sequence, but I wanted to obtain additional information from a few key places. For this purpose, I excavated single test-pits inside two different caves (named Lower Cave and Upper Cave), as well another single test-put along a new trail (NT-1) outside the Upper Cave. Additionally, I made finer observations and measurements of the terrain, shoreline configurations, and absolute elevations. At this point, the test-pit results have allowed ample documentation in support of the overall landscape chronology, but the research program continually is expanded and refined. In 2013, I excavated another point along the new trail (NT-2), and I excavated for the first time directly outside the pictograph-rich Star Cave. Later in 2013, I led a small project for digging six test-pits (designated PL-1 through 6) in the area of the entry-road


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Figure 10. Potsherds encased in hardened calcrete, partly visible during controlled dissolving of calcrete material (from Carson and Peterson 2001a). and parking-lots (Carson 2014b), with the assistance of University of Guam field technicians Brent Coffman, Bradley Halbert, Charmaine Ledesma, and Jacy Moore. USFWS employees Jaried Calaor and Mariana Sanders graciously assisted this work.

Investigative Procedures The research approach was simple and effective. Test-pit excavations found the buried coastal land surfaces, measured their depths/elevations, obtained dates for when they existed, and traced their locations and spatial distributions. This information then was coordinated with the known sea-level history, further corroborated by finding buried surfaces of ancient coral reefs of directly verifiable locations, depths, and dates. The results were combined with archaeological findings from the same excavations, for placing ancient cultural activities of known dates within the larger context of landscape evolution over the last 3500 years. The Ritidian excavations required perseverance for digging through a buried zone of cemented sand, known as calcrete, that had hardened into solid rock and sealed ancient archaeological materials within and beneath it (Carson and Peterson 2011a). The same calcrete zone had been encountered at other sites (Carson 2008b), but the work at Ritidian was exemplary for developing a practical means for excavation and recovery of the constituent archaeological materials. This strategy involved bulk-removal by percussive hammer or chisel, then soaking the blocks of calcrete in a light (5%) acid solution to loosen and partly dissolve the calcareous material (Figure 10). The remaining material then was washed in distilled water, and the contents were examined for full recovery of broken pottery, stone and shell tools, and other archaeological findings.

One critical obstacle for the Ritidian research was for precise and accurate dating of the buried deposits, because the unstable beach-sands tend not to preserve the kinds of charcoal that archaeologists often prefer for radiocarbon dating. For this purpose, I obtained context-paired pieces of known-taxa seashells with short-life charcoal, as a means to calculate a local “marine reservoir correction” (also known as ∆R) for certain types of shells (Carson 2010). This strategy proved successful, pairing samples of Anadara sp. shells (an important food resource, found in shallow-water environments typical of the earliest settlement period in the Marianas) with samples of carbonised coconut endocarps (definitely short-lived specimens, for the best control of radiocarbon dating). The results allowed direct dating of the shells most abundantly found in the buried archaeological deposits at Ritidian, often in clear contexts of food-refuse. Another key advance in the Ritidian landscape chronology was for direct radiocarbon dating of the bioclastic materials that composed the major constituents of the lagoon facies deposits at Ritidian. From the test-pit excavations, I collected intact (non-eroded) Halimeda sp. algal bioclasts that must have been freshly deposited in palaeo-beach surfaces. The radiocarbon dating proved successful, not only at Ritidian but also at other sites in Guam (Carson and Peterson 2012). These results, in conjunction with the marine reservoir correction study, created a new opportunity for direct dating of the palaeo-landforms. With all of these factors working favourably for the study of landscape evolution at Ritidian, the only major remaining challenge was simply to have enough time to complete a sufficient number of test-pit excavations and analyse the recovered materials. Little by little over a few years, I found enough luxury of “free” time for these pursuits. Also of key importance, Guam Preservation Trust funded the radiocarbon dating of 28 samples, made possible by dedicated staff Rosanna Barcinas and Joe Quinata. USFWS funded two test-pits in 2005 and another six in 2013. Other excavations and two more radiocarbon dates in 2013 were funded by the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation. Although I continue with more research at Ritidian, the basic outline of the landscape evolution is now reported confidently. The resulting data-sets were coordinated for a chronology of landscape evolution at Ritidian. The most informative illustration of the chronology was possible through computer-aided terrain modelling, refined by the site-specific findings. Elevation contours were generated for the landforms identified in each major time interval. The results enabled three-dimensional rendering of the palaeo-landscape during each identified time interval, as part of an island-wide palaeo-habitat rendering of Guam (Carson 2011, 2014a) yet with extraordinarily high-resolution output at Ritidian (Carson 2012a).


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Figure 11. Schematic profile of coastal landform chronology at Ritidian.

Landscape Evolution Model The basic outline of landscape evolution at Ritidian is driven by 1.8 m of lowering sea level and changing coastal ecology (Figure 11). As the habitat changed in its configuration, so did the cultural use of the available space and resource zones. Ritidian is unique as a single place with a material record of the full 3500-year sequence of human-environment relations in the Mariana Islands. The major stratigraphic units at Ritidian are depicted schematically in Figure 11. Individual test-pit documentation is provided in Appendix A at the end of this chapter. In each test-pit, the stratigraphic layer, association cultural material, location, and absolute elevation allowed the basis of a landscape chronology. Within this framework, a suite of 30 radiocarbon dates (Table 1) has enabled clear calendar year reference, so far in perfect agreement with the stratigraphic sequence and artefact associations.

In the following text, each discernable time period within the 3500-year sequence is presented in order. The measurable time-intervals range 400–700 years each, defined by stratigraphic associations and radiocarbon dating. The details may yet be refined, but the available evidence is reviewed here in terms of the environmental and social contexts of each definable time interval. For each time-interval, a three-dimensional model depicts the approximate configuration of the local environment at Ritidian, and then the available archaeological data are discussed. As noted, the complete radiocarbon dating results are provided in Table 1. The precise contexts of radiocarbon dates are indicated in the 77 stratigraphic profiles in Appendix A at the end of this chapter. Test-pit locations and other points of interest are shown in Figure 8. When considering the time-interval contexts and range of material evidence, different research questions may be proposed. As discussed here, many of these research questions do not yet have definite answers. This presentation is intended to encourage ongoing investiga-tion and pursuit of new knowledge.

1500–1100 B.C. The first time when people lived at Ritidian, the setting was a broad coral reef, with scattered patches of unstable sand around the base of the limestone cliff (Figure 12). In one of these patches of unstable sand, now buried more than 2 m deep and more than 100 m from today’s shoreline (at Fenceline Pit 35), broken pottery and other materials reveal the location of one of the very first habitation sites in the region, dated 1551–1313 B.C. (see profile of FL-35 in Appendix A). This site, along with others in the Mariana Islands, ranks among the oldest in all of Remote Oceania (Carson 2012a, 2014c; Carson and Kurashina 2012). In addition to this most securely dated shoreline site, new investigations (in July 2013) found a second location of early occupation at Ritidan, at a large cave locally known as the “Star Cave” (Figure 13). This location similarly was at the ancient shoreline, where a shallow lagoon bordered the cave openings at the limestone cliff-base. Dating will need further clarification, but tentatively it appears roughly equal to the shoreline site already documented. Conceivably, though, it could be even older. Red-slipped potsherds were found inside an intact lagoon facies deposit, dated as old as 2097–1772 B.C. and overlain by a later layer of beach sand with Anadara sp. shells dated 1418–1144 B.C. (see Star Cave test pit profile in Appendix A). The precise age of the pottery in this case must be equal to or slightly younger than the age of its associated bed of algal bioclasts, and meanwhile it must be older than the age of the Anadara sp. shell in the super-imposed stratigraphic layer. The initial inhabitants at Ritidian were among the first human beings ever to live in the small and remote islands of the Pacific, known as Remote Oceania. What were the


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Table 1. Ritidian radiocarbon dating summary.

Provenience Beta-

###### Material

Measured Age (years

B.P.)

13C/12C Ratio (‰)

Conventional Age (years

B.P.)

Marine Reservoir Correction

(∆R) 2-Sigma Calibration

(calendar years)

Fenceline Pit 35

98–105 cm, beach-ridge habitation 239577

Carbonised coconut endocarp fragment 2820 ± 40 -25.4 2810 ± 40

Not applicable

1073–1066 B.C. (0.77%); 1057–843 B.C. (94.7%)

98–105 cm, beach-ridge habitation;

testing for possible ∆R 239576

Cellana sp. shell 5340 ± 40 +3.9 5180 ± 40

2683±58 1152–796 B.C. (95.4%)

105–110 cm, beach-ridge

habitation; testing for possible ∆R 239578

Anadara sp. shell 5340 ± 40 +1.5 3140 ± 40 13±58 1152–797 B.C. (95.4%)

110–120cm, natural surge layer 303808

Acropora sp. branch coral 2870 ± 30 -1.1 3260 ± 30 -44± 41

1359–1040 B.C. (95.4%)

250–260 cm, food discard during

earliest cultural activity 253681

Anadara sp. shell 3030 ± 40 -0.7 3430 ± 40 -44 ± 41

1551–1247 B.C. (95.4%)

255–260 cm, freshly deposited during

earliest cultural activity 253682

Halimeda sp. algal bioclasts 2980 ± 40 +5.3 3480 ± 40 -44 ± 41

1608–1313 B.C. (95.4%)

262–263 cm, pre-cultural natural

surge 303807 Acropora sp. branch coral 3390 ± 30 -3.0 3750 ± 30 -44 ± 41

1926–1644 B.C. (95.4%)

260–265 cm, pre-cultural reef growth 253683

Heliopora sp. coral 3610 ± 50 +4.4 4100 ± 50 -44 ± 41

2455–2061 B.C. (95.4%)

Star Cave Pit 1

20–25 cm, middle cultural layer 355871

Anadara sp. shell 2950 ± 30 -1.8 3330 ± 30 -44 ± 41

1418–1144 B.C. (95.4%)

52 cm, freshly deposited with lowest cultural

material 355872 Halimeda sp. algal bioclasts 3380 ± 30 +4.2 3860 ± 30 -44 ± 41

2097–1772 B.C. (95.4%)

Fenceline Pit 34

150–155 cm, non-cultural lagoonal

deposit 239579 Halimeda sp. algal bioclasts 3140 ± 40 -3.2 3500 ± 40 -44 ± 41

1637–1352 B.C. (95.4%)

Walkway Pit 2

33 cm, widespread intensive habitation 263447


Not applicable

A.D. 1169–1280 (95.4%)

92 cm, cliff-base habitation 263448


Not applicable 796–509 B.C. (95.4%)

90–100 cm, cliff-base habitation;

testing for possible ∆R 263449

Anadara sp. shell 2370 ± 40 +2.1 2810 ± 40 -103±59 892–508 B.C. (95.4%)

126 cm, cliff-base habitation 263450


Not applicable 796–509 B.C. (95.4%)

128 cm, cliff-base habitation; testing

for possible ∆R 263451 Conus sp. shell bead artefact 2710 ± 40 +1.5 3180 ± 40 267±59 892–508 B.C. (95.4%)


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Table 1, continued.

Provenience Beta-

###### Material

Measured Age (years

B.P.)

13C/12C Ratio (‰)

Conventional Age (years

B.P.)

Marine Reservoir Correction

(∆R) 2-Sigma Calibration

(calendar years)

Trail Location 1

25–28 cm, widespread

intensive habitation 303809 Charcoal 920 ± 30 -23.9 940 ± 30

Not applicable

A.D. 1025–1160 (95.4%)

35–40 cm, cliff-base habitation 303810 Charcoal 1980 ± 30 -25.2 1980 ± 30

Not applicable

45 B.C. –A.D. 77 (95.4%)

65–70 cm, pre-cultural lagoonal

deposit 303811 Halimeda sp. algal bioclasts 3630 ± 30 +2.6 4080 ± 30 -44 ± 41

2416–2067 B.C. (95.4%)

Trail Upper Cave

5–10 cm, ritual use of cave 303812

Organic sediment 910 ± 40 -25.3 910 ± 40

Not applicable

A.D. 1030–1210 (95.4%)

30–35 cm, limited cave use 303813


Not applicable A.D. 53–236 (95.4%)

30–35 cm, limited cave use 303814


Not applicable A.D. 241–411 (95.4%)

Trail Lower Cave

15–20 cm, ritual use of cave 303815 Charcoal 340 ± 30 BP -27.9 290 ± 30

Not applicable

A.D. 1492–1602 (4.6%); A.D. 1615–1663 (30.8%)


Not applicable

A.D. 1328–1341 (4.5%); A.D. 1396–1445 (90.0%)


Not applicable

A.D. 1316–1354 (29.8%); A.D. 1389–1437 (65.6%)

75–80 cm, pre-dating cultural

activity 303818 Organic sediment 5560 ± 40 -22.5 5600 ± 40

Not applicable

4504–4351 B.C. (95.4%)


activity 303820 Halimeda sp. algal bioclasts 3790 ± 30 +0.1 4200 ± 30 -44 ± 41

2552–2241 B.C. (95.4%)


activity 303819 Beachrock bioclasts 4210 ± 30 +1.0 4640 ± 30 -44 ± 41

3109–2852 B.C. (95.4%)

Emergency Recovery Pit 2

20–25 cm, widespread

intensive habitation 247659


Not applicable

A.D. 1520–1593 (14.8%); A.D. 1619–1685 (0.0%); A.D. 1732–1808 (31.2%); A.D. 1928–1950 (9.4%)

80 cm, widespread

intensive habitation 247660


Not applicable

A.D. 1455–1638 (95.4%)

All calibrations are at 2-Sigma (95.4%), using OxCal version 4.2 (Bronk Ramsey and Lee 2013). Charcoal and organic sediments were calibrated with INTCAL13 data-set, and marine specimens were calibrated with MARINE13 data-set (Reimer et al. 2013). Local marine reservoir effect (∆R) follows calculations specifically for the Ritidian site (Carson 2010).

circumstances for people to settle in the Mariana Islands, more than 2000 km distant from any other inhabited land at that time? What made Ritidian attractive as one of these original settlements? The vast region of Remote Oceania lies beyond the ordinary reach of inter-visible islands of Near Oceania (Green 1991). The land-masses of Near Oceania were

inhabited for at least 40,000 years by hunter-gatherers, living in places once connected by land-bridges or within short water-crossings (Bellwood and Hiscock 2005). Most water-crossings in Near Oceania were less than 120 km, whereas the leap into Remote Oceania required a crossing of at least 350 km of ocean (Irwin 1998). Near Oceania was home for amazingly abundant and diverse plants and animals, and by comparison the islands of


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Figure 12. Physical and cultural landscape conditions at Ritidian, 1500–1100 B.C.

Figure 13. Setting of buried cultural deposit outside the “Star Cave” at Ritidian. Remote Oceania supported impoverished biota. If people lived in Near Oceania for so many thousands of years, then what happened about 1500 B.C. for the expansion of human populations into Remote Oceania? At least two developments were necessary. First was the set of sailing technology and navigational skills for such a voyage. Second was the ability to establish a viable community in remote and small islands that provided less of the essential life-supporting natural resources than in Near Oceania. The settlers at Ritidian and other sites must have possessed these traits and skills, or else the settlements never could have been successful. The first people to settle in Remote Oceania brought with them distinctive pottery and other cultural traits that did not exist at all for thousands of years in Near Oceania, suddenly appearing in Island Southeast Asia and then spreading from there eventually into Remote Oceania (Bellwood et al. 2011; Carson et al. 2013). The oldest known pottery of the region was found in the Philippines, dated about 2000–1800 B.C. (Hung 2008; Hung et al. 2011). By 1500 B.C., pottery-making groups founded sites in parts of Indonesia (Simanjuntak 2008), then slightly later in the Bismarck Archipelago about 1500–

1350 B.C. (Summerhayes 2007). In addition to the pottery, the sites themselves reflect formal residential occupation, qualitatively different from the preceding millennia of low-intensity hunter-gatherer campsites. The context in Near Oceania is essential for under-standing the first peopling of Remote Oceania. The archaeological evidence indicates a sudden emergence of a new kind of lifestyle with pottery-making and sedentary habitations in Near Oceania, spreading from the Philippines through Indonesia and even as far as the Bismarck Archipelago (Carson et al. 2013). At least as early as 1500 B.C., people were traveling over long distances and establishing new settlements, but their travels stayed comfortably within the easily accessible lands of Near Oceania. In most published overviews of the peopling of Remote Oceania, the Mariana Islands do not figure prominently at all, but rather the first settlers are described as makers of dentate-stamped Lapita pottery, found in Melanesia and Polynesia (Kirch 1997; Spriggs 1997a). The Lapita migration route moved through the Bismarck Archipelago in Near Oceania about 1500–1350 B.C. (Summerhayes 2007), and only some time later did Lapita groups move into the Remote Oceanic islands of South Melanesia and West Polynesia, all post-dating 1200 B.C. (Green et al. 2008). First settlement at Ritidian, as at other early sites in the Mariana Islands, definitely pre-dated the Lapita legacy in Melanesia and Polynesia. At 1500 B.C., no other islands of Remote Oceania had been inhabited, but somehow people journeyed all the way to the Marianas and established at least eight settlements in three different islands, including the site at Ritidian (Carson and Kurashina 2012). The low-lying atolls elsewhere in Micronesia were not habitable at that time, still below sea level until perhaps A.D. 100–200 (Dickinson 2003). The larger land-masses in western Micronesia, like Palau and Yap, have shown no evidence of human habitation until perhaps 1100 B.C. at the earliest in Palau (Fitzpatrick 2003; Liston 2005) and an unknown later date in Yap (Intoh 1997). Marianas settlement at 1500 B.C. occurred in surprising isolation (Carson 2014c), more than 2000 km from any contemporaneously inhabited area. By comparison, the longest Lapita ocean-crossing in the Melanesia-Polynesia region would occur a few centuries later, about 1100 B.C., and over a much shorter distance of only 900 km between Vanuatu and Fiji (Irwin 1998). Accordingly, Rainbird (2004:85) called attention to early-period Marianas settlement as having required “the longest sea-crossing undertaken by that time in human history.” The technical practicalities of the Marianas colonising voyage currently are not well understood, and in fact modern computer-aided simulations suggest that it was virtually impossible (Fitzpatrick and Callaghan 2013). None-theless, the hard evidence is undeniable from multiple securely dated sites in the Marianas (Carson and


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Figure 14. Approximate re-constructed shapes of oldest pottery found at Ritidian. Kurashina 2012), so far linked most clearly to a set of contemporaneous and slightly older sites within the central and northern Philippines (Carson et al. 2013; Hung et al. 2011). Although isolated to some extent from the rest of the world, the first Mariana Islanders probably were not so isolated from one another. Ritidian was one of at least three early sites in Guam, while other sites were inhabited in nearby islands of Tinian and Saipan (Carson and Kurashina 2012). These founding populations must have known about each other, and they likely interacted at least occasionally for sharing news and information, forming and continuing friendships and alliances, enabling marriage-partners, and so on. During this early period, the different site records show that people shared much the same cultural expressions in their pottery, stone and shell tools, personal shell ornaments, house construction, food recipes, and overall lifestyle (Carson 2014c). How did the Ritidian site relate with other early-period settlements in the Marianas? The evidence reflects a rather small-sized habitation, less than 20 by 20 m (400 sq m) at the shoreline site, plus an unknown size at the “Star Cave”. Other sites are estimated as much larger, for example 800 sq m at Unai Bapot in Saipan (Carson 2008b) and 3000 sq m at Unai Chulu in Tinian (Haun et al. 1999). In the limited excavations so far at Ritidian, the density of pottery and other artefacts is far less than has been reported in other sites, but perhaps more excavation in the future will reveal a different story. A large-format excavation will be necessary for learning more about the earliest habitation at Ritidian. So far, only a 1 by 1 m excavation (1 sq m) found this earliest cultural deposit in both of the known locations. In the case of the shoreline site documented at test-pit FL-35, nearby test pits at 10-m intervals did not encounter cultural materials at this depth, so the oldest site deposit must be confined within an area of less than 20 by 20 m. In the case of the “Star Cave,” further subsurface exploratory testing will be needed, but the available terrain at the edge of the limestone cliff and within the caves measured only a few sq m. Although the excavations have been limited in size, the dating is extremely confident in the range of 1551–1313 B.C. (Carson 2012a). Radiocarbon dates cross-confirm each other with redundant overlap in this range (see radiocarbon data in Table 1 and profile of FL-35 in

Appendix A). Additionally, radiocarbon dates from overlying (post-dating) and underlying (pre-dating) stratigraphic layers corroborate the dating, and these results constrain the total age-range most likely to the decades closest to 1500 B.C. (Carson and Kurashina 2012). Even in just the small test-pit excavation, the recovered artefacts allow a precious view into the lives of people who first occupied the site. For instance, 428 pieces of broken pottery (793.5 sq cm) represented about 10–20% of two different small bowls or jars, plus more than 55% of another shallow open bowl (Figure 14). None of these pieces showed significant erosion, and many could be re-fitted. These findings were overall consistent with the traditions of thin red-slipped pottery found in other early-period Marianas sites. Also within the small test-pit excavation, remains of discarded shellfish reveal aspects of the local environ-ment and how people interacted with their available resource zones. Among the most dominant food resource, people harvested arc clams such as Anadara sp. that soon declined rapidly in numbers with a falling sea level and loss of their preferred habitats in swamp-like shallow waters and grass-beds. These particular shellfish most likely lived within or close to the same shallow-water zones where the Halimeda sp. thrived. Although in lesser numbers, sea urchins and chitons were among the earliest local meals, absent in later contexts probably due to combined stress by harvesting and changing coastlines. Various limpets experienced a similar but more prolonged decline. Surely, more excavation will prove greatly informative at Ritidian. A larger sampling may recover the rarities of finely decorated pottery that typically appear in only 1% (or less) of early-period assemblages (Carson 2008b, 2014c), so far not observed in the very small sampling at Ritidian’s earliest site deposit. A larger sampling potentially can find a portion of the cultural deposit with denser material or better preservation, especially if the interior of the “Star Cave” can be explored fully. The first inhabitants evidently targeted a specialised coastal niche at Ritidian, with strong parallels at most of the other known earliest Marianas sites. Each of these sites was situated with strategic access to a coral reef ecosystem, a nearby mangrove or swampy zone, and a nearby inland forested terrain. These settings soon underwent substantial transformations, and eventually they could not support the same lifestyles as was the case for the first settlers in the islands. Perhaps most significantly, the early-period archaeo-logical deposit at Ritidian holds exquisite material evidence about the first contact between humanity and the Remote Oceanic environment. This contact occurred within a specific environmental and cultural context that existed during just a few centuries, approximately 1500–1100 B.C. Future research can be designed for learning


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Figure 15. Physical and cultural landscape conditions at Ritidian, 1100–700 B.C.

Figure 16. Coordination of site foot-print size, archaeo-shellfish remains, and sea-level history at Ritidian (after Carson 2012a). more about this context, guided by the preliminary findings.

1100–700 B.C. As the sea level began to lower, the sandy beaches began to accumulate more mass around the islands, necessarily covering the older habitation layers (Figure 15). At Ritidian and other sites, volumes of sand were left stranded close to the shore, as the sea level was undergoing a phase of drawdown. The newer deposits of sands accumulated as elongate piles or ridges, parallel with the shoreline.

During the centuries 1100–700 B.C., on one of the newly formed beach ridges at Ritidian, a habitation deposit contained concentrations of broken pottery, stone tools, and remains of small hearth-fires burned directly into the sands. Unlike during the earlier habitation, this new beach-ridge was elevated slightly above sea level of its time, but it was not by any means immune to the effects of the ocean. A layer of storm-surge debris interrupted the beach-ridge habitation, but the habitation resumed immediately thereafter (see profile of FL-35 and others in Appendix A). The beach-ridge habitation spanned an interesting time-interval for learning about how people interacted with their dynamic coastal environment, during a time of lowering sea level and other ecological trans-formations. Importantly, the natural environmental processes were combined with human-caused impacts on the same coastal habitat. Discarded shellfish midden contained significantly less Anadara bivalves and increasing frequency of Turbo and Trochus gastropods. Limpets, chitons, and sea urchins also showed significant decline in size, species richness, and overall abundance, as summarised in Figure 16 here but reported in detail elsewhere (Carson 2012a). The change in coastal ecology coincided with a change in cultural practice, reflected in the pottery and other artefacts. The initial beach-ridge habitation contained mixed thin and thick red-slipped pottery, whereas the later continued habitation contained only the thicker variety. The thicker variant was coarsely made, and the vessels were larger bowls and jars. The use of red-slipping was diminished in comparison to earlier pottery. This change implies that people were engaging in different modes of behaviour at Ritidian, and in fact the same change has been noted at other sites (Carson 2014c).

700 B.C.–A.D. 1 During the years 700 B.C.–A.D. 1, the ecological and social setting at Ritidian had become remarkably different from the scene of the first settlement period (Figure 17). By this time, people no longer lived in a single zone directly at the shoreline, where the coastal ecosystems were undergoing major change. Instead, people lived at a number of separate narrow pockets of slightly elevated beaches in scattered locations, along the base of the inland limestone cliff, specifically in locations directly outside small caves. By this time, the Mariana Islanders were no longer the sole inhabitants of Remote Oceania. Lapita groups were living in South Melanesia and West Polynesia (Spriggs 1997a), and other communities were living in Palau in far western Micronesia (Fitzpatrick 2003). The Pacific Island world was beginning to become populated far and wide (Carson 2013a), and presumably sea-crossing networks connected people over very long distances (Carson 2013b). Material evidence of these contacts, however, has


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Figure 17. Physical and cultural landscape conditions at Ritidian, 700 B.C.–A.D. 1.

Figure 18. Excavating outside a cliff-base cave at Ritidian, Walkway Pit 4. Photograph by Hiro Kurashina.

Figure 19. Conus sp. shell beads, found in Walkway Test Pit 2, dated 892–508 B.C. (from Carson 2012a).

been notably lacking, especially concerning the Mariana Islands, although this topic may yet be addressed in new research. The caves themselves have shown no evidence of human use during this period, but presumably the caves somehow were important for the immediately adjacent habitations. Dripping water could be collected inside the caves. Coconut crabs (Birgus latro) often dwell in these settings, and their charred remains as expected are found in the midden-refuse of the cliff-base sites. From time to time, the caves likely provided shelter from typhoons and adverse weather, but no clear cultural deposits developed inside the caves until much later. Outside the caves, the cliff-base habitations contained dense charcoal and ash, unlike the scant or non-existent charcoal in prior occupation periods (Figure 18). Partly, this change was due to better preservation conditions in the stable elevated landforms. In the older occupation layers, the unstable beaches were less than ideal for preserving hearth features and concentrations of charcoal. Nonetheless, the density of burned organic material after 700 B.C. suggests an increased intensity of habitation. The cliff-base habitation deposits contain the first occurrence of tree-snail (Partula sp.) shells, previously absent in the site records. The sudden appearance after 700 B.C. must have accompanied a newly developed forested habitat directly in the coastal terrain at the cliff-base setting. Prior to this time, forests of course were well established in the island’s interior land-mass, but the unstable sandy beaches could not have supported more than minimal plant-growth and certainly not healthy forests. At Ritidian, five small cliff-base habitations were identified in the age-range 700 B.C.–A.D. 1, according to relative stratigraphy and pottery association. The age was confirmed by radiocarbon dating at two locations that represented the earliest and latest ends of the time-range. The oldest was outside the Ritidian Gate Cave or “grotto” (see profiles of WP-2, 4, and 5 in Appendix A). The youngest was outside the Ritidian Upper Cave (see profile of NT-1 in Appendix A). The pottery-type continued as a thick-coarse series of bowls, sometimes with bold-line incisions and impressions. Eventually, toward the end of this period, people were making and using a new type of large, flat-bottomed pan or griddle. Numerous Conus shell beads (N=71) were found at one location, likely broken from a single original necklace strand (Figure 19). The same bead-type is known at other Marianas sites, as old as 1500 B.C. but generally ending production by A.D. 1. In later periods, shell beads were larger and rougher, without the thorough polishing. In the centuries after 700 B.C., the archaeo-shellfish records indicate major change in the coastal ecosystem. The shellfish most important during earlier periods (e.g., Anadara sp., chitons, limpets, and sea urchins) by now were virtually absent from the site middens. Instead,


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Figure 20. Physical and cultural landscape conditions at Ritidian, A.D. 1–500. Turbo and Trochus shells were most commonly represented. Small amounts of bird bones appeared for the first time, possibly indicating a change in access to different resource zones, particularly the island’s inner forests. During this same time-interval, several new sites were occupied in coastal zones around Guam, Tinian, Saipan, and Rota. The lowered sea level by this time allowed more opportunities for coastal settlement, but the coastal ecology definitely was undergoing substantial trans-formation. Coincidentally, a noticeably larger resident population may be expected by this time. Major change is noted in the coastal ecology, reflecting a nearshore resource depression, along with marked decline and eventual total loss of decorated pottery. Naturally, the coastal environments continued as important parts of island life, but clearly the habitat was changing and requiring new modes of resource management by the islanders. For people whose lives were closely linked with coasts that were visibly transforming at the time, a major change in cultural practice may be expected, as seen in the change in pottery style. Regarding the coinciding factors of nearshore resource depression and decline of decorated pottery, the same results have been described in other Pacific Islands, for example in New Caledonia (Carson 2008a) and in Fiji (Nunn 2005). These different island societies had no direct contact with each other, so the same chronologies in each place are especially intriguing. The effects on coastal ecosystems largely were the same, due to the same regional sea-level drawdown. The similar forms of human response in different areas, however, will deserve closer study.

A.D. 1–500 Following the substantial coastal evolution as noted above, the years A.D. 1–500 witnessed temporary

stability of coastal zones. At Ritidian, the former shallow lagoon became mostly filled with new sediments and elevated just slightly above sea level, while people continued living in the cliff-base habitations in increasing intensity (Figure 20). One cave showed signs of limited cultural activity during this time, in the form of sparse charcoal and a few discarded shells, but curiously no artefacts were deposited. The most clearly diagnostic pottery type at this time was a large flat-bottomed shallow pan, actually continued from prior centuries but now occurring in greater popularity. The popularity of this pottery-type may have been due to a change in food production and consump-tion. Larger serving-sizes now were evident, possibly reflecting growth in household size. The shallow pans may have been griddles, reflecting a different cooking practice than previously was evidenced. Pending taxon-omic identifications, thick burned starchy residues most likely represent bread-fruit, taro, or yam. Several coastal habitations were evident throughout Guam during the first few centuries A.D. Beaches at Tumon supported widespread activities in the temporarily stable coastal conditions (Carson 2011), for example as reflected in dozens of hearths in one site (Carson and Peterson 2010). Stable conditions are further attested in the development of new soil horizons in southern Guam (Carson and Peterson 2011b), where the volcanic mountain slopes contributed clays and silts in soil build-up in coastal zones. Outside the Marianas, other Pacific Islands at this time showed clear records of impressive agricultural land-use, all beginning in the first centuries A.D. Slope-retention features and earthen terraces were constructed in the mountain slopes of Samoa (Carson 2006), while much larger and incredibly complex taro-growing irrigation systems and yam-planting mounds were constructed in New Caledonia (Sand 2002). The major earthwork complexes of Palau’s hilltops also began to be con-structed at this time or perhaps slightly earlier (Liston 2009). Meanwhile, the Pacific Islands of largest mass began to show signs of increased slope erosion, in part caused by inland forest-clearing for agricultural land-use, with an end-result of creating great volumes of clays and silts re-deposited in low-lying coastal zones (Spriggs 1997b). The overall stable conditions of A.D. 1–500 may have encouraged investment in agricultural production, but no formalised agricultural fields are evident in the Marianas. The coastal setting at Ritidian does not reveal any direct evidence of inland agricultural activity. For pursuing this topic, more research will be needed within inland zones and looking at other lines of evidence such as soil chemistry and preserved paleo-botanical remains. Stable coastlines enabled human settlement of new areas, not only in the Marianas but also at a broader regional scale in Micronesia. The many small atolls of Micronesia


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Figure 21. Physical and cultural landscape conditions at Ritidian, A.D. 500–1000.

Figure 22. Physical and cultural landscape conditions at Ritidian, A.D. 1000–1500. became stable above sea level during the first few centuries A.D. (Dickinson 2003), and indeed people began inhabiting the low-lying islands in the Marshalls and Kiribati about this time (Thomas 2009; Weisler1999). Coincidentally, habitations appeared for the first time in the larger island-masses such as Pohnpei and Kosrae, as well as most likely in Yap and Chuuk (Intoh 1997). During the first centuries A.D., the notion of a “sea of islands” may have achieved a new meaning in Micro-nesia, when islands across the broad region consistently were inhabited without the large gaps of uninhabited zones as during previous centuries. Hau‘ofa (1994) promoted the “sea of islands” concept for stressing the inter-connectivity of island communities across the Pacific, especially noting the ocean as a medium for connecting rather than isolating island groups from one another. This point stresses that islanders are (and always have been) quite aware of the world beyond their shores, although the world itself may have been changing significantly in its physical form and in the ability of

people to inhabit it. At this same time, long-distance seaborne trading networks were incredibly active in regions west and south of the Mariana Islands, but so far no evidence even hints that these networks could have extended as far as the Marianas or any other Pacific Islands. One such network connected communities across the South China Sea, with exchange of specialised body ornaments and other materials among groups in Taiwan, the Philippines, and Vietnam (Hung et al. 2013). Another network involved traders from India, actively engaged with communities in Indonesia (Ardika and Bellwood 1991). Iron objects, glass beads, specialised forms of personal ornaments, and unique pottery designs all serve as excellent markers of these trade networks, but no such materials entered the Marianas or other parts of Remote Oceania at this time.

A.D. 500–1000 Archaeological evidence is sparse for the period A.D. 500–1000, compared to the abundance of information in the immediately post-dating centuries up through the present. In many places, the cultural deposits of A.D. 500–1000 have been disturbed by the next successions of occupations, as apparently occurred at Ritidian. This period is represented in the material record, although many basic questions still have not been addressed about it. During these centuries, the coastal plain began to approach the present-day conditions (Figure 21). The former lagoon was stable above sea level, and a new reef ecosystem already was growing in its more seaward location as known today. The former lagoon was now entirely buried, in some cases more than 2 m deep beneath the young coastal plain terrain. Over the new coastal plain at Ritidian, a surface of organic soil horizon began to form, only weakly over the bioclastic sands. In other areas, like in southern Guam where stable soil horizons already had been developing earlier, these conditions continued with thicker coastal soils. In places like Ritidian, however, layers of storm-surge sand periodically interrupted intervals of soil development, and the calcareous sands generally supported only thin organic layers. At Ritidian, habitations intensified at the same cliff-base sites, while low-intensity activities were diffused over the newly expanded coastal terrain. The cultural layers of this period, however, later became disturbed by super-imposed occupation horizons. The full record of this period therefore has been obscured or even removed in some parts.

A.D. 1000–1500 The period A.D. 1000–1500 brought a revolution in cultural use of the landscape (Figure 22), not only at Ritidian but also throughout the Mariana Islands. In fact,


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Figure 23. Architectural rendering of latte structure, composed by John Aguon (from Laguana et al. 2012). land-use intensified widely in Micronesia and across the entire Pacific at this time (Carson 2013b), coupled with increased frequency in long-distance travels between island groups. Additionally, sites of this period are very well represented in archaeological records due to their abundance and generally good preservation conditions of this time-range. The same sites are further magnified in terms of what people now know about them, because they relate to ethnohistoric traditions known today. By A.D. 1000, the habitat of the original island colonists no longer existed, but instead conditions resembled more or less the modern ecological structure. Forest growth was luxuriant, even in the coastal plains composed mostly of calcareous sands, where organic soils were growing thicker. Meanwhile, the vegetation overall was being altered by people at a scale never before seen, through intentional emphasis on growing economically important items (Athens and Ward 2004). Rats also appeared for the first time after A.D. 1000 (Pregill and Steadman 2009), necessarily translocated from some-where overseas, bringing clearly adverse effects on native forests and wildlife. The coastal ecosystems now were well established in their new conditions, including many large sandy beaches and broad coral reefs. Strombus gastropods now dominated the site middens, in part due to the favourable new habitat of open sandy nearshore zones. This rising importance of Strombus added one point to the pre-existing trends in the shellfish records, but this additional point was remarkably voluminous. It raises questions about a possible change in dietary preference, cooking recipes, and other factors that are not always obvious in archaeological material records. The new land-use system after A.D. 1000 coincided with the establishment of large villages, composed of arrangements of stone pillar-raised houses, locally known as latte. Each latte was made of paired rows of pillars that supported capital stones and an overarching super-structure (Laguana et al. 2012) (Figure 23). Today, only the stones survive, often in partly or totally collapsed condition.

At Ritidian, the latte-associated village complex covered almost the entire coastal plain landform, in excess of 100,000 sq m when accounting for locations of houses and other activity-areas inclusively. Latte sites were built not only at Ritidian but also throughout the Mariana Islands, even in the far northern islands (Carson 2012b). This material record indicates a very large resident population after A.D. 1000, expanding into new territories for the first time and at a grand scale. Along with the new latte constructions and widespread land-use, many aspects of material culture changed at this time. Large and thick pottery was produced prolifically. Mortar depressions were carved into boulders and sometimes into limestone bedrock for processing plant foods and possibly other purposes. Ritual use of caves was commemorated in painted pictographs of human figures, hand-prints, and various enigmatic images. Today’s observable latte stones and other surface-visible materials probably do not all relate to the earliest latte-associated period of A.D. 1000–1500. These older remnants mostly are buried and covered by successive generations of site occupation, although the stratigraphic layers show an overall strong continuity in the kinds of activities. The lowest portions of the stratigraphic layers yield dates close to A.D. 1000, but the surface-related portions of these layers contain definite foreign-introduced items of the A.D. 1600s or later in association with much later-dated radiocarbon results. The latte period in the Marianas coincided with a new era of stonework-construction elsewhere in Micronesia and also in Polynesia. Stonework house foundations and large stonework monuments appeared throughout the region after A.D. 1000 (Carson 2013b, 2013c). These new stone-filled constructions replaced older traditions of earthen-filled terraces in Samoa (Carson 2006), and the stonework traditions became part of a new cultural expression widespread throughout the Polynesian islands. At the same time, groups of Polynesians expanded eastwards to colonise the farthest reaches of the Pacific (Easter Island, Hawaii, and New Zealand), but others also sailed westwards and established “Polynesian Outlier” settlements in scattered pockets of Micronesia and Melanesia that were either uninhabited or under-utilised (Carson 2013c). The period A.D. 1000–1500 convincingly can be associated with a “sea of islands” in the way that Hau‘ofa (1994) envisioned. Populations expanded to live in almost every inhabitable island of the Pacific, even in the most marginal environmental zones. At the same time, long-distance voyaging connected communities across the Pacific.

A.D. 1500–Present The years A.D. 1500–present arguably are over-represented in archaeological and historical studies. Vastly more information is available about these years


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Figure 24. Physical and cultural landscape conditions at Ritidian, A.D. 1500–present.

Figure 25. Example of latte ruins at Ritidian. Scale bar is in 20-cm increments.

Figure 26. Example of grinding mortars (lusong) in limestone bedrock at Ritidian. Scale bar is in 20-cm increments. than about any others in the more distant past. Many archaeological ruins of this period are accessible in surface-visible contexts (Figure 24), and numerous ethnohistories survive about these sites. Copious amounts of written historical documents pertain to this same period, often relatable to specific sites. At Ritidian, like at most sites in the Marianas, the surface-visible latte ruins reflect activities about A.D. 1500–1700 (Figures 25 and 26). This period was the last

time when the latte were used as habitations in the original intended sense. People continue to access the ruins, even today, not for dwelling in them but rather for various other reasons in recognition of the sites as heritage resources, spiritual locales, and links to the past in today’s modern contexts. Starting in the late 1600s, major cultural and historical transformations occurred at Ritidian and throughout the Marianas, in the context of encounters between native Mariana Islanders and groups of Spanish people who came to settle in the islands. These encounters involved economic interests, religious motivations, and political actions. Violent conflicts occurred most intensively in the late 1600s, when the native population was drastically reduced, and survivors were re-located into a few easily controlled villages in Guam (Jalandoni, this volume). Following the reducción period, Ritidian and other indigenous villages were deserted. Along with loss of village life, the traditional management systems were abandoned in regards to the forest, lagoon, and other resources. Compounded with these events, exotic animals such as pigs, deer, horses, water buffalo, and others began to degrade the terrestrial ecosystem. At Ritidian, latte village habitation continued all the way through the years of intensive Spanish encounters in the late 1600s. Well preserved archaeological deposits allow important insights into the social lives of people who lived at specific latte sets, for example revealing aspects of labour organisation, gender relations, and more (Bayman et al. 2012a, 2012b). These findings are most enlightening about a critical turning-point in Marianas cultural history. Nearly all of the surface-visible ruins date to this particular era of A.D. 1500–1700, also incorporating a few new additions of stone-faced terraces and stone-lined wells (Figures 27 and 28) due to Spanish influence in the later 1600s and continuing into later centuries (Madrid, this volume). Spanish missionaries lived at Ritidian during this time, although eventually the population was forced to re-locate into other villages in accordance with the reducción program. The material archaeological record and historical documents together reveal a more complex history than previously has been known at Ritidian (Jalandoni 2011, 2012; see also Jalandoni, this volume), further suggest-ing that the events of the late 1600s deserve closer study overall (Clement, this volume). Cave interiors show increased cultural use after A.D. 1500, reflected in greater density of shellfish remains, ash, and charcoal (see profiles of test-pits in Lower Cave and Upper Cave in Appendix A). Given the continued absence of pottery and other durable artefacts, cultural use of caves probably was restricted in scope. Rock-art images suggest ritual contexts (Figure 29), perhaps further reinforced by scattered human skeletal remains in at least two cases. Knowledge of ancient cave-use may


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Figure 27. Stone-lined terracing at Ritidian. Scale-bar is in 20-cm increments.

Figure 28 Stone-lined well at Ritidian. Scale-bar is in 20-cm increments. indeed change significantly after further excavations inside the Ritidian caves, not yet fully explored. After abandonment of Ritidian as a village complex, land-use has continued in limited forms. These more recent activities, since A.D. 1700, evidently did not cause the kinds of massive site-disturbance or destruction as seen in most parts of Guam. The Ritidian area remained important for resource-gathering and other non-intensive activities, yet it did not support the urban developments as seen elsewhere. Ritidian today may be viewed as a rarely preserved landscape that retains important evidence of cultural heritage prior to the large-scale and rapid cultural transformations of the last few centuries. During these last few centuries, Ritidian gained a new aspect of identity as a place associated with an older time and a different way of life. It most recently has become associated with disputes of land ownership, although in a sense it belongs to the public and with year-round public access, while it is protected as the Ritidian Unit of Guam National Wildlife Refuge.

Conclusions This summary illustrates the ongoing evolution of Ritidian as a landscape that has evolved over 3500 years

of intimately related natural and cultural histories. Knowing this information, the setting today can be understood as a rare embodiment of landscape heritage of exemplary value for new research (Carson 2014d). From each identifiable time-interval of the last 3500 years, significant archaeological and palaeo-landscape resources survive at Ritidian that can be observed, studied, experienced, and appreciated. The foregoing review provides basic contextual background for a complete 3500-year chronology at Ritidian. For each time interval, the ecological and social conditions are outlined in a manner that supports more focused studies. Depending on the given context and available evidence, different kinds of questions can be addressed, as shown here. The results at Ritidian demonstrate significant change over time in ecological structure, social-cultural behaviour, and combined “social-ecological” relation-ships. Change in ecological structure is noted in the terrain itself, supporting habitat, and natural resources. Change in social-cultural behaviour is reflected in artefact types, habitation locations and sizes, subsistence economy, and other factors. The changing social-ecological relations can be studied by combining the chronologies of the different types of information, working toward holistic contexts that more actively can guide modern research. The Ritidian case exemplifies how the social-ecological structure forms a fundamental context and part of the identity for all activity that occurred within it. This context can be reconstructed for any single time interval, and importantly its structure (or identity) depends to some extent on whatever has happened previously. This point is essential for formulating any studies that depend on historical contingencies, evolutionary process, or chronological context. Many of the transformations of the environment and society resulted from long-term processes, and sometimes multiple processes unfolded at different yet concurrent paces and rhythms. The truly long-term record at Ritidian surely will prove useful for larger global studies of human-environment relations. By virtue of spanning 3500 years, Ritidian’s integrated natural-cultural history encompasses noticeable change in climate, sea level, soil and terrain formation, forest composition, reef ecology, human population growth, social expression and practice, and inter-relations of all of these factors. The details as obtained from Ritidian enable a high-resolution narrative of long-term natural-cultural history that is not ordinarily possible in most other places. The results allow examination of considerable complexity all in one case study, helpful for capturing the essence of human-environment relations at a global scale. Landscape heritage at Ritidian is experienced by hundreds of people every day, thanks to the continuing efforts of USFWS staff for maintaining the protected habitat, services at the Refuge, ongoing updates of


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Figure 29. Examples of pictographs inside Ritidian caves. Scale bars are in20-cm increments. information kiosks, and accessible hiking trail system. Much of the successful operation in this case involves not just maintenance but rather continued improvements and enhancements, made possible by USFWS staff and teams of researchers from the scientific community. Other key advantages for the admirable program at Ritidian include the availability of a large and contiguous preserved ecosystem, government-supported management, and realistic public access. These combined factors cannot be replicated except in a few rare places in the world, but their potential certainly can be maximised, as has been possible at Ritidian.

Acknowledgements This research followed the approach first started by Hiro Kurashina, Rebecca Stephenson, Richard Randall, and colleagues at Ritidian. The outcomes were made possible by years of ongoing support by all of the staff at Ritidian Unit of Guam National Wildlife Refuge. Funding support is appreciated from US Fish and Wildlife Service, Guam Preservation Trust, and the Chiang Ching-kuo Founda-tion. Writing was supported while the author was a Visiting Scholar at the Research School of Asia and the Pacific in the Australian National University.

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Contexts of Natural-cultural History: A 3500-year Record at Ritidian in Guam

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