These extend from a pair of braking timbers wedged behind two giant granite blocks buried in the ramp, around the butt end of the obelisk, and back to the braking timbers, thereby cradling the obelisk as if in a sling. It's that simple. Moments before this photo was taken, the obelisk settled onto the edge of the pedestal's turning groove, seen here still slightly filled with sand. Only the sand-removers have an idea how hot it really is, and as I hoe away in the growing darkness, I begin to wonder if the rubber soles of my sneakers are melting. With our flashlight beams illuminating the obelisk like some lost treasure inside a tomb, the word finally goes around that the obelisk appears to have finally come to a rest.
Someone lets out a yahoo, and then everybody is whelping and whistling, cheering and chortling.
The job is done. And what a job. As I write this a day later, I'm still amazed at how seemingly effortlessly they pulled it off. A sandpit method like this one may or may not have been the way the ancient Egyptians erected their obelisks, but thus far Brown and Company have proved in spades that it can be done in this manner. They got in the groove, in every way.