Road to Ubar Pa - Nicholas Clapp [42]
Ubar! I sank down by the edge of the road and read on. A character based on Harry St. John Philby or Wilfred Thesiger, it is hard to tell which, is drawn into the plot. I suspected that one of the two men had rubbed Josephine Tey very much the wrong way, for the character is querulous, effete, a creature of "pathological vanity." Had Harry or Wilfred snubbed Josephine? And now, with this mystery, was she having her revenge?
As the sun fell lower in the sky, I wondered if perhaps Ubar had already been discovered and The Singing Sands was a fictionalization of what had happened! Although the Philby-Thesiger character doesn't find Ubar, someone else does. Sitting down to his coffee and scones, Inspector Grant opens the morning edition of the London Clarion and is startled by the headline "SHANGRI-LA REALLY EXISTS. SENSATIONAL DISCOVERY. HISTORIC FIND IN ARABIA."
He turns to the Morning News, which confirms "ASTOUNDING NEWS FROM ARABIA."
It was dark now, and chilly where I had stopped. I was twenty miles from anywhere. But I read on by flashlight, grimly determined to see how The Singing Sands came out. As the moon rose and shone upon the desert, I was relieved to find that Inspector Grant cracks the case, and the Philby-Thesiger character gets his comeuppance. And it became clear that Ubar was still out there, waiting to be found. The city's discovery in the book happened only in the writer's imagination. For a long afternoon and a good part of the evening, though, she had me fooled.
I pedaled on. It was cold, cold enough, fortunately, for the rattlesnakes to stay in their burrows rather than stretch out on the blacktop for warmth. I thought over The Singing Sands. It was clever, well researched, and encouraging. Midway through the story Inspector Grant observes, "None of the writers [that he had consulted] attempted to belittle or discount the legend.... The story was universal in Arabia and constant in its form, and sentimentalist and scientist alike believed that it had its basis in fact ... but the sands and the jinns and the mirages had guarded it well."
Ahead now were the lights of the little town of Borrego Springs where Kay and our daughters were to join me.
On the weekend, we would hike the desert washes and afterward share some Cerveza Pacificas with the park rangers who patrol the Anza-Borrego region. One, naturalist Mark Jorgensen, had spent some time in Arabia. He told us, "When you get out there, be sure to drink water, water, water. More than you would in our desert. Don't ration yourself. The human body is designed to operate at temperatures of up to 130 degrees, provided it has enough water."
It would prove to be good advice.
II. Expedition
11. Reconnaissance
IN THE SULTANATE OF OMAN on an August morning in 1990, the overnight Gulf Air flight from London rolled to a stop. Aboard was our team: Kay and I, George Hedges, Ran Fiennes, Ron Blom, and Juri Zarins. As the plane's door swung open, our impression of Muscat was, quite literally, a blur. Our eyeglasses were instantaneously fogged by the 100-percent humidity and the 120-degree heat, in the shade.
When we could see again, out the window of an air-conditioned van, it was clear that in the ten years since Kay and I had been here, Muscat had boomed. Everywhere we saw new buildings, lush landscaping, and extraordinary municipal monuments. To our right, a heroic hand burst from the shrubbery and thrust an even more heroic sword a good fifty feet into the air. To the left, a herd of oversize fiberglass oryxes placidly grazed. Down the road, a giant incense burner smoked by day and blazed with lasers by night.
This splendor, we learned, was at the behest of H.M. Sultan Qaboos ibn Said, a not only benevolent but imaginative absolute