Road to Ubar Pa - Nicholas Clapp [70]
The dominating feature of the ruined fort was a tower, and with more time to examine it, Juri was struck by a curious feature. Near its top, the quality of the masonry became slapdash. And the shape of the tower changed from square to round.
"You know, it could just be that this Sheik Tuwariq didn't build the fort, but rebuilt it," Juri remarked. "The original structure could be medieval, even earlier."
The fort was perched on the edge of the distinctive steep-walled sinkhole that gave Shisur its name. In Arabic, we were told, shisur meant "the cleft." Geologist Ron and archaeologist Juri led the way as we walked down a sloping rubble ridge to the sinkhole's sandy floor. After some discussion, they determined that we were in what had once been an underground cavern. More than likely it had been filled with water. But at some point in the past, either through natural causes or human use or both, the water table had dropped. Emptied of water, the cavern became geologically unstable—and collapsed. Moreover, it had collapsed after the fort had been built. Looking up, you could see where a wall connected to the fort had sheared off, tumbled into the sinkhole, and lay buried in the sand beneath our feet.
The ruin at Shisur
In myth, Ubar had been destroyed in a great cataclysm whose exact nature was unclear. Different tales had spoken of a great wind, a "divine shout," or the city sinking into the sands. The Shahra tribesmen back in the mountains had told us that Ubar came to an end when "the city turned over." Could what happened at Shisur also have happened at Ubar? Might Shisur be Ubar? For that to be possible, the ruins here would have to be more than five hundred years old. Our hopes rose when Baheet and Mabrook led us to petroglyphs etched on the far wall of the sinkhole. They appeared old, but as Juri pointed out, they might date back only a hundred years or so. Out here, until very recently, time had stood still.
Shisur's sinkhole
Returning to our Discoverys, we finished off the last of our MREs and carefully checked a space image of the Shisur area. The new houses and mosque didn't show up, of course, as they had been built after the image was made. The sinkhole, though, was clearly visible as a dark crescent. And at least six old caravan tracks came up from the incense groves and converged on the site. None bypassed Shisur; with its reliable water source, it was a necessary stop for any and all caravans passing through. Whoever controlled Shisur—and its water—could control the incense trade as the caravans headed out across the Rub' al-Khali.
Detail of Landsat 5 image
There were, of course, arguments why Shisur couldn't possibly be Ubar. So far as we knew, the fort was not old enough by a good two thousand years. And the site was hardly a candidate for the city described in the Koran, a city "whose like has never been built in the whole land."
"It wouldn't take all that much, would it?" Kay asked.
"Much what?" I asked.
She explained, "Much to be the greatest city in all this land."
"Perhaps not," mused Juri.
We cracked open a box of Kit Kat bars and shared them with Imam Baheet, Mabrook, and a cluster of Shisur kids. And we agreed to a plan. For a month we would make Shisur our headquarters. We would dig two or more test squares and try to date the site's rise and fall. At the same time we would range out along the incense road, looking for traces of Ubar.
A couple of Kit Kats later, Baheet agreed to a price for a month's rental of three of Shisur's not-quite-finished houses. We left for the airbase at Thumrait, looking forward to real beds and real food—and, after five days in the sands, showers.
15. What the Radar Revealed
WE SOON RETURNED TO SHISUR. We had reinforcements. Joining us now