Road to Ubar Pa - Nicholas Clapp [52]
Two days later the sandstorms were undiminished in their fury, and reluctantly we headed back to Muscat and our flight home, thankful to have had at least a glimpse of the Rub' al-Khali and the road to Ubar.
Our police escorts saw us off. And one, Jumma al-Mashayki, had a last question for George Hedges. Throughout our reconnaissance George had relished consulting his pocket Arabic phrase book and constructing new and varied greetings, improvements on the usual "sabah al-heir" (good morning) or "khef halek?" (what's up?). Recently, though, George's greetings had elicited looks of distinct puzzlement.
Jumma was compelled to ask, "We policemen have all been wondering, Mr. George. Why, over the past few days, when you meet someone, why do you shake their hand and tell them, 'I am firewood'?"
Back in Los Angeles, Firewood, Ron Blom, Kay, and I reviewed the trip. It hadn't exactly been a disaster, yet it was well short of being a resounding success. The People of 'Ad and their lost city were proving to be surprisingly elusive. Though we had been reasonably frank about this with our sponsors in Oman, they didn't seem to mind, and looked forward to our return in the late fall. In the interval Ron Blom would have a chance to fill in gaps in our space imaging. In England, Ran Fiennes would plan and arrange the logistics of our next venture.
But then, five days after our return home, headlines announced: "IRAQ INVADES KUWAIT. SAUDI ARABIA THREATEN E D." A war was on, a war that could well involve all of Arabia. The next day brought reports of Iraqi fighters dispatched to Yemen, where they were poised within striking distance of the Omani Air Force base that we had helicoptered into and out of the week before. We called and faxed our Omani contacts and friends to wish them well in the coming war. They thanked us and sincerely regretted that for the foreseeable future an expedition in search of Ubar would be out of the question.
12. The Edge of the Known World
WE PUSHED OUR PLANS BACK a year and hoped that when the time came we could still round up our original Ubar team. By winter the tide of the Gulf War had dramatically turned; Operation Desert Storm drove the Iraqis from Kuwait. In June 1991, Ran and Ceorge received word that we would be welcome to return to Oman, though parts of the Rub' al-Khali would be off limits. Also the Omanis reminded us that they expected the expedition to be filmed, which was fine by me, for that is what I do.
But who would pay for such a film? After our reconnaissance, we honestly had to admit that the odds were strongly against our finding Ubar. That was not the only problem. A Turner Entertainment executive had read our film proposal and decided "too much sand" (so that's what was wrong with Lawrence of Arabia!). National Geographic had already thought the expedition "too dangerous."
As our date of departure approached, George described the situation: "Everything is coming together, and we won't be able to shoot a foot of film." It was a Saturday morning, and George had stopped off to shoot a game or two of pool with his friend Miles Rosedale. Owner of the wholesale Rosedale Nursery, Miles was aware of our Ubar project and intrigued by the unique botanical properties of frankincense.
"A shame," Miles commented. "Five in the corner pocket." Clink-clump. As he eyed his next move, he asked, "Just what would a movie cost?"
A half hour later, George left with Miles's commitment to underwrite equipment rental, eighty cans of 16-millimeter color negative, and the hiring of a cameraman and soundman.
George Ollen, a longtime free-spirited acquaintance, agreed to take a break from surfing and learn how to operate a Nagra location sound recorder. For the position of cinematographer we had an application written on stationery that featured a photograph of a man with a skull balanced on top of his head. The letter concluded:
Remember: I happily hung off the side of a