The Ethnotour Experience: Listening to Land, Story, and Memory

This week’s class took us beyond readings and discussions and into the field. Our field trip, guided by the Tribal Chairman of the BVBMI, Matthew Vestuto, was described as an ethnotour—a journey through land, memory, and history. The experience deepened our understanding of the ongoing relationship between Indigenous communities and their ancestral lands. It highlighted to us how archaeology must evolve to serve as a tool for revitalization rather than just excavation.

Students listen to tribal chairman, Matthew Vestuto, during our ethnotour of Ventura.

Two key themes: Revitalization and Reengineering

Before embarking on the ethnotour, we gathered for lunch at Peirano’s, the first constructed commercial building in Ventura, with our community partner to discuss the oral history project. This conversation set the tone for the trip, reminding us that archaeology is a double-edged sword—a practice capable of both uncovering histories and disrupting them. The processes of exhumation and destruction that define traditional archaeology often sever connections to place, yet, when done ethically, archaeology can also serve as a means of reconnection.

One of the most striking themes from our discussion was revitalization. It reminded us that this project isn’t just about documenting the past. It also ensures that Indigenous knowledge, traditions, and voices remain central to how history is told. Too often, past archaeological practices have marginalized living Indigenous communities. Our discussion reaffirmed that true archaeology must collaborate with those who carry the knowledge today. This project is, in a sense, a Reengineering of past archaeological work retold through what matters most to the local community.

The Ethnotour: Seeing the Land Through Indigenous Eyes

After lunch, we stepped into the landscape, guided by stories rather than maps. What looks industrial today—pumpjacks, oil fields, infrastructure—was once a thriving landscape of Indigenous life. Through oral histories, we learned about an old woman and a tar basket; she would scoop up children and put them in her basket. This myth is actually linked to a canyon we stopped at on our ethnotour. It is a story rooted in the land long before oil became an industry in the region. Hearing these stories while standing on the land itself changed our perception of the space. What some might see as an oil production site, others understand as a living landscape, rich with ancestral significance. The tension between past use and modern industry was palpable.

Tar basket lady linked to the oral history of the canyon in the background

Fences and industry obstructing ancestral places and villages where living descendants have their roots in the background

As we continued the tour, we encountered sacred mountains and river systems, described to us through Indigenous place names rather than colonial labels. These names hold meaning, history, and a direct connection to the land. The river, we learned, has been essential for life for thousands of years, sustaining communities long before colonial settlement and continuing to do so today. However, the reality is that many Indigenous people today lack access to their own ancestral lands—a recurring theme throughout the tour, visible by fences and inaccessible private land.

Our field trip underscored central issues at the heart of this project: the importance of reshaping how history is remembered by centering what matters most to Indigenous communities. Instead of treating the past as something static, we are learning to understand it as an ongoing relationship between people, land, and history that must be told on its own terms.

Conclusion: Moving Forward with Ethical Ethnography

This week’s ethnotour wasn’t just a field trip but a reminder that archaeology must evolve. We are part of a new wave of research that prioritizes community collaboration and the protection of cultural landscapes. This trip challenged us to think beyond excavation and preservation in the traditional sense and instead consider how archaeology can be a living, community-driven process. If we genuinely want to do justice to the past, we must work alongside those whose histories we seek to understand.

This experience left us with a final question: How can archaeology not only document history but also contribute to the future of Indigenous communities?