542
PAUL F. HOYE
creeping into the shade to await the coolness of the afternoon. Here and
there, to be sure, there are small flutters of motion. A Bedouin woman,
small and shapeless in black, walks from one low tent to another. A white
kid prances stiff-legged away from the herd. A camel nibbles cautiously
at the top of a thorn bush. A lizard, almost invisible, skitters up a dune
and darts into a hole, his tail leaving a thin, shivery line traced in the sand.
But over most of the valley the stillness of the afternoon is descending,
a stillness as tangible and as heavy as the heat itself.
Actually it's hard to decide which is more impressive—the natural wonders carved by the hot abrasive touch of the wind or the tombs carved
by the Nabateans. I incline toward nature. Just south of here, for example,
a few hundred yards away, is a globe of sandstone shaped like the crown
of an English bowler. Across the valley there's a formation that looks like
a Greek amphora (see Fig. 7), another that resembles a coyote, his
howling nose pointed at the sky, and a third that is surely the stern of
a Spanish galleon. All around are the pitted cliffs, battlements, turrets, and
steeples.
Yet to decide in favor of nature at this point wouldn't be fair, since
we've only just begun to really look at the tombs. We started out yesterday,
Moody, Sa'id, and I, hiking and climbing throughout the valley, Moody
to capture it on film, I on paper, and actually the only valid observation
I can make so far is that the Nabateans certainly moved a hell of a lot
of rock.
That observation, I know, is not exactly remarkable but neither is it
entirely facetious. Some rough measurements I made today suggest that
the construction of these tombs required prodigious labor. One tomb, for
example, is set back into the cliff 10 feet, measures some 30 feet across
and possibly 60 feet high. This means that just to get into the cliff deep
enough to start cutting out the facade, the Nabateans had to first excavate
some 18,000 cubic feet of sandstone. Then they had to carve the facade
itself before burrowing in to excavate the chamber and the burial niches.
Not far from this summit where I'm making notes is located what has been
called Diwan or "Council Chamber." It's no more than a huge cubic space
cut into the sandstone, but if my paced measurements are anywhere near
accurate, some 47,000 cubic feet of stone had to be excavated to create
it. Considering the rude instruments available at the time, and that the
29 tombs counted so far are a long way from the total number here,
it seems logical to assume that carving the tombs must have kept a lot
of men busy for a long time. (Which suggests, in turn, I imagine, that
this valley must have once supported a large and vigorous population. I
suspect that the archeologists will have a great time when they come.)
PAUL F. HOYE
creeping into the shade to await the coolness of the afternoon. Here and
there, to be sure, there are small flutters of motion. A Bedouin woman,
small and shapeless in black, walks from one low tent to another. A white
kid prances stiff-legged away from the herd. A camel nibbles cautiously
at the top of a thorn bush. A lizard, almost invisible, skitters up a dune
and darts into a hole, his tail leaving a thin, shivery line traced in the sand.
But over most of the valley the stillness of the afternoon is descending,
a stillness as tangible and as heavy as the heat itself.
Actually it's hard to decide which is more impressive—the natural wonders carved by the hot abrasive touch of the wind or the tombs carved
by the Nabateans. I incline toward nature. Just south of here, for example,
a few hundred yards away, is a globe of sandstone shaped like the crown
of an English bowler. Across the valley there's a formation that looks like
a Greek amphora (see Fig. 7), another that resembles a coyote, his
howling nose pointed at the sky, and a third that is surely the stern of
a Spanish galleon. All around are the pitted cliffs, battlements, turrets, and
steeples.
Yet to decide in favor of nature at this point wouldn't be fair, since
we've only just begun to really look at the tombs. We started out yesterday,
Moody, Sa'id, and I, hiking and climbing throughout the valley, Moody
to capture it on film, I on paper, and actually the only valid observation
I can make so far is that the Nabateans certainly moved a hell of a lot
of rock.
That observation, I know, is not exactly remarkable but neither is it
entirely facetious. Some rough measurements I made today suggest that
the construction of these tombs required prodigious labor. One tomb, for
example, is set back into the cliff 10 feet, measures some 30 feet across
and possibly 60 feet high. This means that just to get into the cliff deep
enough to start cutting out the facade, the Nabateans had to first excavate
some 18,000 cubic feet of sandstone. Then they had to carve the facade
itself before burrowing in to excavate the chamber and the burial niches.
Not far from this summit where I'm making notes is located what has been
called Diwan or "Council Chamber." It's no more than a huge cubic space
cut into the sandstone, but if my paced measurements are anywhere near
accurate, some 47,000 cubic feet of stone had to be excavated to create
it. Considering the rude instruments available at the time, and that the
29 tombs counted so far are a long way from the total number here,
it seems logical to assume that carving the tombs must have kept a lot
of men busy for a long time. (Which suggests, in turn, I imagine, that
this valley must have once supported a large and vigorous population. I
suspect that the archeologists will have a great time when they come.)