Road To Ubar Pa / Edition 1

Paperback (Print)
Buy New
Buy New from BN.com
$15.30
Used and New from Other Sellers
Used and New from Other Sellers
from $1.99
Usually ships in 1-2 business days
(Save 90%)
Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (49) from $1.99   
  • New (9) from $12.48   
  • Used (40) from $1.99   
Close
Sort by
Page 2 of 5
Showing 11 – 20 of 49 (5 pages)
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
$1.99
Seller since 2009

Feedback rating:

(22909)

Condition:

New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

Good
Our feedback rating says it all: Five star service and fast delivery! We have shipped four million items to happy customers, and have one MILLION unique items ready to ship today!

Ships from: Toledo, OH

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2008

Feedback rating:

(581)

Condition: Good
Boston, MA 1999 Trade paperback Good. Go green, recycle! Book may have wear from reading, may contain some library markings. Trade paperback (US). Glued binding. 352 p. ... Contains: Illustrations, black & white. Read more Show Less

Ships from: Toledo, OH

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2009

Feedback rating:

(18940)

Condition: Good
Buy from the best: 4,000,000 items shipped to delighted customers. We have 1,000,000 unique items ready to ship today!

Ships from: Toledo, OH

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2006

Feedback rating:

(3860)

Condition: Good
Some wear on book from reading, some spine creases, wear on binding and pages, we guarantee all purchases and ship all items via USPS mail.

Ships from: Toledo, OH

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2007

Feedback rating:

(9838)

Condition: Good
Ex-Library Book - will contain Library Markings. Light shelf wear and minimal interior marks. Millions of satisfied customers and climbing. Thriftbooks is the name you can trust, ... guaranteed. Spend Less. Read More. Read more Show Less

Ships from: Auburn, WA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2007

Feedback rating:

(2997)

Condition: Good
1999 Paperback Good

Ships from: San Jose, CA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$1.99
Seller since 2009

Feedback rating:

(6715)

Condition: Very Good
Nice condition with minor indications of previous handling. Book selection as BIG as Texas.

Ships from: Dallas, TX

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$2.00
Seller since 2005

Feedback rating:

(1436)

Condition: Very Good
1999 Paperback Very good Some wear to the cover. Light tanning to the page edges. Otherwise no marks or labels. Thanks for your business! Your satisfaction is guaranteed!

Ships from: Havertown, PA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$2.50
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(0)

Condition: Good
1999 Paperback Good Connecting readers with great books since 1972. Used books may not include companion materials, some shelf wear, may contain highlighting/notes, may not ... include cdrom or access codes. Customer service is our top priority! Read more Show Less

Ships from: Seattle, WA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$3.75
Seller since 2010

Feedback rating:

(28)

Condition: Very Good
New York 1999 Paperback First Printing Near Fine 0395957869. Unmarked book, no remainder marks; 0.9 x 8.2 x 5.5 Inches; 342 pages.

Ships from: Richmond, VA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
Page 2 of 5
Showing 11 – 20 of 49 (5 pages)
Close
Sort by

Overview

No one thought that Ubar, the most fabled city of ancient Arabia, would ever be found-if it even existed. Buried in the desert without a trace, it had become known as "the Altantis of the Sands." Many had searched for Ubar, including Lawrence of Arabia. Then in the 1980s, Nicholas Clapp, a documentary filmmaker and amateur archaeologist, stumbled on the legend of the lost city while poring over historical manuscripts. Filled with overwhelming curiosity, he led two expeditions to Arabia with a team that included space scientists and geologists. The discovery of Ubar was front-page news across the world and was heralded by Time as one of three major scientific events of the year.

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
For centuries, the city of Ubar was the object of legend, quests and uncertainty. An ancient trading outpost in Arabia, it had, according to the Koran, sunk into the desert sands as a result of God's wrath upon its sinful population. In the 1980s, Clapp, a documentary filmmaker, undertook to find the city. After exhaustive research that took him from ancient texts to satellite photos, he eventually led an expedition that finally located Ubar in what is now Oman. Clapp first learned of the then-chimerical city in the early 1980s, when working on a film about the oryx (a tough and graceful desert antelope). His interest was piqued further as he read of 19th-century British expeditions, which he synopsizes along with other relevant tales. Like Indiana Jones, Clapp is as comfortable in the library as in reconnaissance helicopters or on the sands, and his efforts to separate myth from possible reality make for a gripping intellectual adventure. Clapp's team, including his wife and expedition manager, Kay, and a host affable experts, weren't sure what they'd found in a giant sinkhole until they spent weeks digging and putting pieces of pottery together with knowledge of the ancient trade in frankincense. What they found was not only Ubar but also a fitting resolution to Clapp's engaging story of the excitement of discovery, of a mystery solved and of the spirit of adventure. (Feb.)
Library Journal
The discovery of the mythical city of Ubar in Oman, aided by satellite images, was hailed as one of the most remarkable archaeological discoveries of 1992. Ubar, once a center of the frankincense trade, sank without a trace into the desert sands somewhere between A.D. 300 to 500. In this definitive and enthralling work, Clapp, a documentary filmmaker who spearheaded the search for Ubar, weaves together several trends: clues found in ancient texts, remote sensing technology, and the modus operandi of an archaeological expedition. Legend, myth, earlier accounts (the bibliography and notes are considerable), and archaeological evidence are pieced together to reconstruct Ubar's history. The epilog describes an entertaining foray into neighboring Yemen to visit the Prophet Hud's tomb. The only criticism is the lack of photographs. The wide media interest in the expedition will surely make this a popular title, and it is unreservedly recommended both public and academic libraries.Ravi Shenoy, Hinsdale P.L., Naperville, Ill.
Booknews
A first person account of the rediscovery of a lost city in Arabia. Clapp, a modern version of Indiana Jones, used the Space Shuttle in the place of a whip and a team of scientists instead of Sallah in his successful search for a city that had been lost for almost 2000 years. He recounts earlier searches for Ubar by Harry St. John Philby and other adventurers, and then tells his own story that begins dramatically with his discovery of a scribe's error in the 1460s. Clapp found that the city, which was supposedly destroyed by God along with Sodom and Gomorrah for the sins of its people, had been abandoned after a giant sinkhole opened up underneath it. Includes an extensive bibliography. Annotation c. by Book News, Inc., Portland, Or.
Kirkus Reviews
The captivating story of documentry filmmaker Clapp's search for the lost, fabled city of Ubar. Wondrous and magical, the Arabian city appears and disappears in the stories of the Arabian Nights. It was thought to be set in splendid isolation on sun-blasted sands of the Empty Quarter, rich beyond measure, destroyed for its sins by the wrath of Allah. Bertram Thomas never found it, nor did Harry St. John Philby, T.E. Lawrence, or Wilfred Thesiger. By his own admission, Clapp became obsessed with finding Ubar, so he turned over every bit of information he could find on the city. His first break came when he discovered an error in Ptolemy's Atlas, relocating Omanum Emporium (Ubar?) to the east, to the land of the Ubarites, astride the major incense road. Clapp manages to get NASA to provide him with radar imagery of the target area, uncovers the road to Ubar that Thomas had mentioned, and strikes it rich during an excavation of the abandoned trading center of Shisur. Clapp is convinced it is the great, lost Ubar, and he provides plenty of evidence—pottery types and sequences, architectural plans, and the role of the incense trade—to back up his claim. Clapp knows when to keep to the facts and when to get fanciful (though never extravagant), as in his enchanting speculations on the history of Ubar, from Homo erectus's first moochings in the vicinity to the rise of the People of 'Ad to the morality play between pious Hud and arrogant Shaddad that betokened the city's doom (albeit more likely the city collapsed into a giant sinkhole—again speculation). A stupendous archaeological achievement, doubtless, but Clapp's ability to conjure the power of a mythological landscapedrives this book.
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780395957868
  • Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
  • Publication date: 6/16/1999
  • Edition description: 1st Mariner
  • Edition number: 1
  • Pages: 354
  • Sales rank: 565,894
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.50 (h) x 0.79 (d)

Meet the Author

Nicholas Clapp, a noted documentary filmmaker, has lectured on Ubar at Brown University, the University of California at Los Angeles, California Institute of Technology, the National Georgraphic Society, and the Goddard Space Center. Clapp currently lives in Los Angeles, California.

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

Unicorns

Over Iran, December 1980 ... The small cargo plane flew on into a starry but moonless night.

"You cannot be up there," the voice crackled over the radio. "We are having a war here. You are not understanding? Yes?"

While the pilot worked the radio, the copilot tried to make some sense of the scattered lights below. Were they in southern Jordan or perhaps Saudi Arabia? No. It appeared that the aircraft had somehow strayed into Iran, which at the time was engaged in a heated war with Iraq.

"Okay, okay, okay. Got it," the pilot radioed back. With a sigh, he turned to the copilot. "We'll head west then? And sort things out." He paused. "Hopefully."

As the cargo plane banked, the flight engineer, wedged behind the copilot, checked his instruments-those that didn't have "INOP" stickers stuck to their faceplates. The oil leak seemed okay now, and the port engine wasn't overheating as long as they took it easy and held back on the throttle.

The journey had begun two days earlier in a winter storm that turned the San Diego Wild Animal Park into a sea of mud. In a driving rain, three of the zoo's rare Arabian oryxes -- magnificent black and white animals with long, tapered horns -- were patiently coaxed into a chute and loaded into large wooden crates. They were going home.

Once, great herds of oryxes had freely roamed Arabia. But in the early part of this century, the peninsula's bedouin began replacing their old flintlocks with accurate and deadly Martini-Henrys. A large oryx could feed a family for a month, and the hunt was exciting, a test of riding and marksmanship. Later, oil-rich princes joined the hunt, not on fiery Arab steeds but on military half-tracks fitted with heavy-caliber machine guns. For sport, not food, they would slaughter sixty or more animals in an afternoon. Until there were no more. By the early 1970s, the Arabian oryx was extinct in the wild.

Fortunately, a number of conservation groups had faced the reality that the animal was being wiped out in its native habitat and had initiated an innovative breeding program. Arabian oryxes in zoos were swapped back and forth so that a genetically sound "world herd" could be created. By 1980 there were enough animals in captivity that a few at a time could be returned to the wild.

On their journey home, San Diego's oryxes would have company: Dave Malone, a young zookeeper, and a documentary film crew, consisting of myself and my wife, Kay, cameraman Bert Van Munster, and soundman George Goen. As soon as the oryxes were secured in their crates, the clock began ticking, for it would be unwise to risk opening the crates to give the sharp-horned animals food or water. It was essential to get them to Arabia as quickly as possible.

The freeway north to Los Angeles was partially flooded and choked with traffic. The Wild Animal Park truck made it to Air France Cargo with not a moment to spare, and we and the oryxes were on our way to Paris. There we transferred to another cargo plane, flown by a pickup crew that normally worked for British Midlands. After nightfall they veered off course somewhere over eastern Turkey. The error was understandable. Of the crew, only the pilot had made the run before -- once, ten years ago.

Now I was in a jump seat behind the pilot, except the pilot wasn't there. He was all but on hands and knees, puzzling with the rest of the crew over navigational charts spread out on the cockpit floor. Gazing into the night, I thought I saw something. A glint in the moonlight.

"By any chance could we have company up here, coming our way?"

"Doubt it. Not at this altitude."

"You're sure?"

"Actually, no."

The pilot swung up, peered ahead, didn't see anything. But his eyes weren't accustomed to the dark. He flipped on the plane's landing lights. And in response, coming at us, another set of landing lights lit up the sky, the beams diffused by the petro-haze that hovers miles high over Arabia. The two planes streaked past each other. Dave, who'd been back in the cargo hold checking on the oryxes, poked his head through the cockpit doorway.

"You guys okay?"

"Just fine," the pilot said.

And we were. A few minutes later the copilot spotted the burning flares marking Saudi Arabia's major north-south pipeline. "Flying the pipeline" took us to within an hour of our destination: Muscat, the capital of the Sultanate of Oman, where His Majesty Sultan Qaboos ibn Said had become intrigued by the plight of the oryx and had established a program to reintroduce the species into the wild.

At three A.M. we banked to the right just short of the silvery Arabian Sea and were on final approach to what the pilot was pretty sure was Muscat's Seeb Airport. We landed and barely had time for a catnap before three winged boxes emerged from a hangar and whirred toward us. They were Skyvans, small Irish-made military planes that could carry a small vehicle -- or a crated oryx -- and land it almost anywhere. The pilot in charge, Muldoon, Irish like his plane, supervised the loading with inordinate cheerfulness, considering the hour. Muldoon was a mercenary for Oman's fledgling air force. He was a good mercenary, he took pains to explain, busy with worthy missions (food drop, medical flights, and so on) in a time of peace.

We boarded Muldoon's plane. He flashed a thumbs-up and hit the throttle. Despite being loaded down with oryxes and fifty-five-gallon drums of fuel for the return flight, our three planes were quickly airborne. We circled over the sea to gain altitude and greeted the dawn as we headed toward the Jebel Akdar, the rugged "Green Mountains" that rise abruptly from Oman's coast. The greenery at first was limited to tiny terraced cornfields and vineyards. But then we flew into a long, winding valley and over grove after grove of palm trees.

Beside me, Kay had her face pressed to the window, taking all this in. Neither of us had ever been east of Europe, much less flown a barely charted desert in a tiny, mercenary-piloted plane. This didn't faze Kay a bit; she loved it. In everyday life, though, some things did faze her. Raised in the South, she could become distraught upon discovering that her navy shoes didn't match her new navy skirt or, worse yet, that her hair had become "a mop, with simply nothing to be done about it." Big things, like a crazed teenager trying to knife her or an international dope dealer threatening to have her "disappeared," didn't bother her at all. Our documentary filmmaking jaunts were breaks from her job as an in-the-trenches federal probation and parole officer. I remember her coming home one day all black and blue.

"Mom, what happened to you?" inquired first-born daughter Cristina.

"More aikido training with the FBI," she said nonchalantly. "This morning it was how to slow bad people down by, um, doing things to their kneecaps."

Always chipper, immensely capable, Kay is a good partner in strange places. We unbuckled our seat belts and squeezed by a crated oryx for a view from the cockpit. "The way to the interior," Muldoon the (beneficent) mercenary gestured, as our three Skyvans buzzed a crumbling old watchtower and cleared a narrow pass.

Ahead now was a vast, rocky plain dotted with mud-brick villages. But soon the villages were behind us, all but one, set in a lonely cluster of palms. "Adam, the oasis of Adam," Muldoon said, then mused, "Suppose that's where he and the missus got the gate?"

The oasis was a last landmark. Oman's interior, desolate and featureless, rolled off to the horizon. We droned on for an hour. The Skyvan couldn't go very fast and, with no pressurization, had to stay under 5,000 feet.

Ahead, fingers of red sand reached out for us. "The Rub`al-Khali?" I ventured, surely mispronouncing the Arabic for the Empty Quarter.

"If you want it to be," Muldoon replied. "Who knows where it begins?"

The Empty Quarter is the great sand sea of Arabia, the largest sand mass on earth. Following the fingers of sand to the horizon, Kay and I could see -- or thought we could -- distant dunes, dancing through the heat waves. And then the fingers of sand were gone, left behind. Muldoon squinted ahead and began his descent to Camp Yalooni. Beyond the reach of roads, with scant vegetation and no water (the nearest well was eighty miles away), it was the ideal place to release our oryxes, as far as possible from harm's way. A scattering of specks became a cluster of small prefab buildings and a water truck. No airstrip. Muldoon circled once, slowed till the plane's stall alarm went off, and hit the rocky terrain with a bump and a crunch.

By now the oryxes had been in their crates for just over sixty hours.

Clambering out of the Skyvans, we were greeted by Mark and Susan Stanley-Price, the personable wildlife biologists in charge of Camp Yalooni. Behind them, running across the desert, came a band of bedouin, shouting and waving rifles. Members of the Harasis tribe, they were garbed in turbans and long robes. Wickedly curved daggers were tucked into their belts, and state-of-the-art Motorola walkie-talkies hung from their shoulders. They were to be the oryxes' gamekeepers.

Mark Stanley-Price and the bedouin shouldered the first crate from the plane and carried it to the edge of a nearby fenced enclosure, the holding area for the animals until they were turned loose in the desert. Dave Malone scrambled up onto the crate and unlatched its sliding door. Mark nodded, Dave pulled up, and the first oryx flew out of the crate. We cheered. He slowed to a trot and circled, not the least bit the worse for wear. The bedouin broke into a tribal chant. The two other oryxes repeated the performance.

In honor of the occasion -- or so we assumed -- the Harasis prepared a favorite meal: Take one whole, tokenly eviscerated sheep, add rice. Cook. Flavor with half a case of La Ranchita taco sauce. From the day I had been given the okay to go to Arabia, I dreaded what I was sure was going to happen next. The sheep's eyeballs, I had read, were traditionally offered to honored guests. Kay had a plan, at least for herself. She would lower her eyes, and murmur words never to be breathed outside of Arabia: "Oh, how kind, but I'm not worthy, for I'm just a woman." Inevitably, an orb (perhaps two?) would be in my court. Were they viscous and slimy? Crunchy?

I was relieved when, apparently unaware of this tradition, the Harasis bedouin unceremoniously dug in, the dread orbs disappearing in a melee of hungry hands. The bedouin were fast eaters -- to avoid surprise attack, it's been said, but also, I suspect, to get the best parts and leave the gristle to the poky. When they rose from the feast, they were in an exceptionally good mood. They unsheathed their daggers and broke into a wild impromptu dance that somehow turned to terrorizing zookeeper Dave. He was a good, if nervous sport. As knives swiped within an inch of his nose, he pleaded to little avail, "Why me? I'm from New York."

"They're a little cranked up today," observed Mark Stanley-Price.

"It's a big event, the oryxes coming in," I added.

"The oryxes? Oh my, no, dear me. These chaps came back this morning from raiding their rivals, the next tribe off into the interior. Dynamited their best well, I hear."

"Oh ..." And I got a glimmer that even if ecology was not a major part of the Harasis ethic, it wouldn't be a very good idea to lay a hand on the oryxes they were now charged to protect.

Late that afternoon, when Camp Yalooni's drab plain turned fleetingly golden, Kay and I walked over to visit the oryxes. And we saw that myths could be real. Here it was the myth of the unicorn.

Though unicorns appear in Persian and biblical chronicles, their heyday was in medieval Europe. It has been suggested that a lone traveler to Arabia spied an oryx in profile, with one horn masking the other. On his return home, he entranced his friends and ultimately all of Europe with the vision of a magnificent one-horned creature. This seems unlikely, though, for even minimal and distant oryx-watching will be rewarded by a flick of the head and a view of the animal's two long spiraled horns. It is much more plausible that a single horn (minus oryx) made its way to Europe, and a horselike creature was dreamed up to go with it.

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."

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.

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

CONTENTS
Prologue 1
PART I: MYTH
1 Unicorns 7
2 The Sands of Their Desire 15
3 Arabia Felix 35
4 The Flight of the Challenger 47
5 The Search Continues 62
6 The Inscription of the Crows 73
7 The Rawi's Tale 80
8 Should You Eat Something That Talks to You? 93
9 The City of Brass 95
10 The Singing Sands 100
PART II: EXPEDITION
11 Reconnaissance 109
12 The Edge of the Known World 132
13 The Vale of Remembrance 149
14 The Empty Quarter 155
15 What the Radar Revealed 177
16 City of Towers 180
17 Red Springs 205
18 Seasons in the Land of Frankincense 208
PART III: THE RISE AND FALL OF UBAR
19 Older Than 'Ad 219
20 The Incense Trade 227
21 Khuljan's City 238
22 City of Good and Evil 252
23 Sons and Thrones Are Destroyed 258
Epilogue: Hud's Tomb 263
Appendix 1: Key Dates in the History of Ubar 275
Appendix 2: A Glossary of People and Places 277
Appendix 3: Further Reflections on al-Kisai's "The Prophet
Hud" 280
Notes 289
Bibliography 313
Acknowledgments 329
Index 333
Read More Show Less

Interviews & Essays

Before the live bn chat, Nicholas Clapp agreed to answer some of our questions:

Q: The area of your expedition to find Ubar must have been beautiful. Could you describe the landscape of the area where you found it?

A: It's interesting that you use the word beautiful, for many people consider deserts to be lifeless and grim. They're not. Ubar's fortress was at the crest of a hill and had a commanding view of a sweeping plain. During the day it was often a plain of illusions, of shimmering mirages. At dusk the plain's mirages dissolved, and the landscape glowed a serene golden yellow.

And to the north of Ubar were the spectacular 600-foot high red dunes of Arabia's "Empty Quarter" -- once crossed by Ubar's caravans bearing frankincense to the great markets of the ancient world.

Q: Judging from what you have learned of the city, if you had lived in Ubar, what would be your favorite place to visit or, say, spend an afternoon?

A: It would be the knoll where Ubar's king would have camped when visiting the city. His tent would have been airy and spacious, with flaps opened to catch the desert breeze (or closed as protection against sandstorms). Remnants of meals and shards of elegant pottery that we dug up indicate that you would dine well, and the moonlit evening would be a time of song, storytelling, and poetry.

Q: Most people's knowledge of archaeologists comes from watching "Raiders of the Lost Ark." Have you ever had a hair-raising experience reminiscent of Indiana Jones?

A: My wife, Kay, had a close encounter with a carpet viper -- the deadliest snake in the world, with no known antidote. And at one point we had to ransom our way out of a tight fix with heavily armed desperadoes.

But when I think of Indiana, I also think of the excitement of uncovering the mysteries of the past -- which we experienced as well. You never know what the day will bring. You might unearth an intact Roman vase or the queen of Arabia's oldest chess set, possibly the oldest in the world.

Q: How did you first become interested in Ubar? Did you know at the time that you would one day set out in search of it?

A: After visiting southern Arabia for a World Wildlife Fund project, Kay and I read everything on the region we could, looking for some reason to go back, so thoroughly did we enjoy the Sultanate of Oman and its people.

The crusty proprietor of a dusty Los Angeles bookshop insisted I read a book I wasn't at first interested in, Arabia Felix by Bertram Thomas, and on page 161 there was an account of Ubar. I had no idea at the time that I'd be part of a team searching for the place. In fact, what intrigued me was that Ubar appeared to be fictitious, a "city that never was." But then clues from a variety of sources -- including The Arabian Nights -- began to convincingly add up.

Q: Are there any other lost cities you will be looking for next? Is there another "Atlantis of the Sands" that no one has yet been able to find?

A: Everybody on the expedition was happy enough just to have found Ubar. But there is another enduring mystery of Arabia, and that is not a place but a person: the biblical queen of Sheba who visited King Solomon and was awed by his wisdom. Did she really exist? Is there any evidence -- archaeological or otherwise -- that lends credence to her legend? So far, her trail has led me to Israel, Syria, Ethiopia, and far out into the deserts of Yemen.


Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Be the first to write a review
( 0 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(0)

4 Star

(0)

3 Star

(0)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously

    If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
    Why is this product inappropriate?
    Comments (optional)