Road to Ubar Pa - Nicholas Clapp [5]
Either way, the Arabian oryx appears to have been the inspiration for the legendary unicorn. As described in a medieval book of beasts, he has "one horn in the middle of his forehead, and no hunter can catch him....He is very swift because neither Principalities, nor Powers, nor Thrones, nor Dominations could keep up with him, nor could Hell maintain him." Only a fair virgin could approach a unicorn and hear him say: "Learn from me because I am mild and lowly of heart."1
Two of our oryxes were quietly foraging. The third was silhouetted against the setting sun. At a glance, the animals looked too delicate, too ethereal to survive in a land as harsh as this. They were certainly graceful, but they were also incredibly rugged. Sixty hours in a box was nothing. They could go days—a lifetime, if need be—without water, getting all the moisture they needed from scant forage. Comfortable in searing days and freezing nights, the oryx survived as if by magic. It was hard to imagine this lifeless landscape nurturing a mouse or a bird, but nevertheless...
This was where unicorns lived.
2. The Sands of Their Desire
"THE ODYSSEY OF THE ORYX" proved to be a popular segment of the television series Amazing Animals. Bert, George, and I were now dispatched to do a series of domestic stories, some more edifying than others. We covered Bart the Kodiak Bear and Buster the Wonder Dog. "The wonder of that dog Buster," noted cameraman Bert, as Buster demurred at walking his tightrope, "is what that dog doesn't, can't, or won't do." Yet with prompting and patience, Buster finally teetered across his tightrope, jumped through a flaming hoop, and dove from the Malibu Pier, demonstrating his prowess should he ever be called upon to aid a sinking swimmer.
Over the next few months, Kay and I thought often about Arabia. As was our custom, we dined frequently at the El Coyote Spanish Cafe, known for its margaritas and motherly waitresses, got up in beehive hairdos and fuchsia hoop skirts ample enough to conceal steam tables. A conversation between Kay and me would go: "How about trying a number-six special for a change?"
"You can. I'm sticking with a number one. Nice to see all the regulars." (We had passed Ricardo Montalban on our way in and were seated across from the Twins, two elderly, nattily attired gentlemen who dined at El Coyote every single night.) Then, with no transition, "How do you think the oryxes are doing?"
We talked of them and of their keepers, the Stanley-Prices. We remembered that Camp Yalooni had been buggy. The next day Kay purchased a case of Cutter insect repellent and sent it off to them. A week or two later, back at El Coyote, we further wondered: if the oryxes could survive in the interior of Oman (which they did, spectacularly), what other wonders might the Arabian desert hold? What would it be like to venture into the Rub' al-Khali?
"A reason," Kay said. "We need a reason, a way to go back."
We read up on the Arabian peninsula, its natural history, its geography, its exploration. Within walking distance of the Amazing Animals editing rooms, I discovered Hyman and Sons, a bookstore specializing in Egyptology with a scattering of books on Arabia. I quickly came to appreciate how fortunate we had been to set foot in the peninsula's interior, to even glimpse the sands of the Rub' al-Khali.
For centuries Arabia had been terra incognita, a mysterious medieval land out-of-bounds to Western exploration. What little had been written discouraged outsiders. In the