Beneath the Sands of Egypt (26 page)

Welcome to the world of Thor Heyerdahl: beloved global celebrity, explorer, author, and occasional academic pariah! Some of his ideas were just too radical for the mainstream, many of whom objected to the dramatic nature of his experiments or were envious that his unconventional theories were better known and more appreciated by the public than theirs were. Paul Bahn was not alone, just the latest in a series of critics who'd attacked Heyerdahl for over five decades. I would meet many academicians, however, who would come up empty when pressed to articulate what it was that Thor was actually doing; they really didn't know and might have been merely holding a negative opinion that had been passed on to them by their colleagues or former professors, who themselves might have known little. Yes, Thor represented a volatile mixture of science, adventure, and controversy, but for those who took a careful look, there was much to appreciate.

In 1994 my proposal to work in Egypt was dismissed by a high antiquities official whose reputation for being difficult is still clearly remembered. I had requested permission to reopen one of the best-
known yet most poorly documented sites in Egypt, the famous Deir-el Bahri royal mummy cache. The cache was a well-hidden tomb used to secrete the bodies of the New Kingdom pharaohs when the Valley of the Kings fell out of use. Local robbers discovered the tomb around 1871 and quietly looted it for several years. When the cache was made known ten years later, the antiquities authorities quickly emptied it of its many mummies, coffins, and other leftovers from royal burials. Very few notes were taken in the process, and I knew that much could be learned from examining the site of this great discovery. The tomb's deep entrance shaft eventually filled in, and no one had been inside in many decades. I would have greatly enjoyed the challenge of revisiting the cache and seeing what might remain to help reconstruct its history. Alas, “Dr. No,” as he was known, rejected my proposal. An annual expedition to Egypt was something I so much looked forward to, even during the summer with its oppressive heat, and with permission denied I felt a sincere frustration and was anxiously looking for a way to fill the void. (The tomb has since been reexamined.)

I fumbled Heyerdahl's calling card between my fingers. Should I really take him up on his “stay in touch” offer? Surely I must be just another one in a million to whom he kindly extended wishes. I mulled over the idea of contacting him constantly in my mind and eventually decided to act. Why not? The worst that could happen was that I would hear nothing from him or be given some sort of generic negative reply. If so, I was back at square one, and if not, perhaps the great explorer would share at least a kind word. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I concluded. I would contact Thor, for better or worse.

I didn't dare call him on the telephone, as I was intimidated by the prospect of having a meaningful conversation, stuttering my way through a “remember me?” introduction. Instead I decided
to call the Kon-Tiki Museum in Norway, an institution that displayed Thor's work (including the actual
Kon-Tiki
and
Ra II
vessels), in hopes that I could talk my way into obtaining Heyerdahl's fax number. They graciously provided the information, and I composed a carefully worded message of inquiry. I gingerly fed the letter into my fax machine, making sure that everything was in order before carefully dialing the number and listening for the characteristic screech sound indicating that some sort of analogous machine on the other side of the world was ready to receive whatever I had to offer. The paper fed its way through, successfully emerging out the other end, and the waiting began.

It was only a day or two afterward when I returned home to see the message light blinking on my phone answering machine. The usual mundane stuff, I assumed—a dentist-appointment reminder, some junk solicitation for installing vinyl siding on my perfectly adequate home, or other such nonsense. I pushed the button and was utterly startled. The voice that emerged from the depths of the phone was unmistakable, its thick, Scandinavian accent readily identifiable. “This is Thor Heyerdahl. I received your fax, and maybe you'd like to come out and visit me and we can talk. Please contact me, and we can discuss the details.” I couldn't believe it. Thor Heyerdahl himself was calling me at my little house in Tacoma, Washington, expressing an interest in meeting me. I was stunned and played the message back over and over again. Sherry, too, was somewhat excited, and I immediately set about constructing a reply indicating that yes indeed I would come out to visit; I just needed a place and time. Needless to say, the message on my phone was not erased for many weeks.

As I continued to communicate with Thor, I was quickly informed that he currently lived on the island of Tenerife in the Canary Islands, a place whose name I had heard of yet had no
idea of its location. A perusal of an atlas indicated that this cluster of eight volcanic islands was located several dozen miles off the African coast of Morocco and was politically considered to comprise two provinces of Spain. What a curious place for a Nordic man to live, but I concluded it did make sense. Thor loved warm climates and islands, whether it was in the South Pacific or South America or the Canary Islands. Before moving to Tenerife, in the early 1990s, he had been living in Peru, where he spent several years excavating at the magnificent mud-brick pyramid complex known as Túcume.

Looking for a change of pace and a fresh venue, he was lured to the Canaries by some photographs sent by a Norwegian friend, Fred Olsen, which depicted what appeared to be seven stone step pyramids situated improbably in a large vacant lot in the middle of a rural town named Güímar. Thor paid a visit and was impressed. The Pirámides de Güímar, as they became known, were impressive and puzzling, and if one were shown a picture of these structures without the accompanying context, one's first guess might be that they were ruins located in Mexico. Given Thor's belief in the probability of contacts across the oceans in antiquity, these pyramids were in fact strategically located where the currents will sweep a seagoing vessel across the Atlantic Ocean from the Old World to the New. Even Columbus had stopped in the Canaries for supplies before making his way west to transform the world forever, and the
Ra
expeditions watched these islands pass in their wakes.

I managed to find enough money for a plane ticket and flew to Tenerife, not knowing what to expect on the other side. To my surprise, Thor and Jacqueline both were waiting for me at the airport, and I'm sure if I had not waved, they wouldn't have recognized the obscure archaeologist they had briefly met two years before. Once again I tried hard not to sound too much like a groupie, which
required considerable restraint, and I was taken to a small apartment in the village of Güímar and given instructions as to where to meet the following day. Thor at the time was living in a temporary house while a small, walled estate was being restored nearby.

Our first full meeting together was remarkable. While Thor discussed his many projects, our conversations were occasionally interrupted by Jacqueline reporting the latest news from the seemingly unending series of arriving faxes. “It's Gorbachev, sending Christmas wishes” or “Fidel says ‘Happy Holidays.'” It was truly a different world I was entering, with Thor being the consummate global citizen, admired, and well liked by all manner of world leaders and other movers and shakers, including European royalty, Nobel Peace Prize winners, and dictators from both the left and right.

Nearly every sentence out of Thor's mouth was fascinating, and he had plenty of questions for me. What I didn't realize then was that I was essentially being interviewed for a job, and as I found out at the end of that first wonderful week I spent in Tenerife, I passed the test. Over the years I had unintentionally accumulated the proper and necessary skills to work with Heyerdahl. I had a broad knowledge of ancient history and archaeology, abilities with several modern and ancient languages, experience as a director of field projects, and a record of both scientific and popular writing. Very importantly, I had a substantial knowledge of, and appreciation for, Thor's own research and philosophy.

Indeed, the entire first trip to Tenerife was a real eye-opener. The Thor Heyerdahl I imagined from my youth was just as impressive in real life. There is a fear, I suppose, that we might meet our heroes or idealized role models and find ourselves disappointed, reality not matching expectations. I had no expectations as to how we might get along and merely hoped that Thor would somehow tolerate me for a week. As it turned out, we became nearly instant
friends. He was amazing, and he continually impressed me with his insights, born of an unconventional mind, decades of travels matched by few, and a persona unafraid to confront dogma. He was a gentleman and a gentle man, with a wonderful sense of humor that was clever and never vulgar and, as I would learn, a true humanitarian, just as much at home—if not more so—sharing a simple meal on the floor of a mud hut in an impoverished country as he was at a state dinner with a king or a queen.

I was very curious as to how Thor organized his life, and as I was interested in writing, Sherry suggested that I take a good look at his office and see how he was logistically set up to write his many wonderful books. At least I knew that I would return home with some useful tips. Thor, I found out, was a disciplined man. He was usually at work at 8:00
A.M.
, answering correspondence and writing. A leisurely lunch, typically at the seaside, was followed by a busy afternoon, a short power nap of about fifteen minutes, a leisurely dinner, and then to bed by around 10:00
P.M.
or so. Thor worked six days a week, but Sunday was for rest and quiet thought. On that day he preferred to commune with nature, usually enjoying a ride into the mountains or along the sea.

At over eighty years old, Thor didn't know how to drive a car. He was certainly capable, but chose not to, perhaps preferring to spend his time thinking rather than concentrating on controlling a fume-spewing machine around countless curvy roads. Thor's lack of automotive skills was actually to my advantage. Many times over the several years I would work with him, I had the privilege of being the chauffeur on his Sunday escapes, driving to beautiful places while we chatted about an incredible breadth of topics, from his previous expeditions to our present work to future projects and global politics. Wonderful meals were always part of the schedule, and then on Monday it was back to work.

Thor not only didn't drive a car, but he refused to learn the ways of the modern computer or own a cell phone. A multilingual secretary could deal with some of that, and Thor could type with two fingers at best on a manual typewriter. He actually preferred to write on yellow lined legal pads, and on many visits to Tenerife I brought with me packs of these pads, which he greatly appreciated. (Most were presented as gifts from young Samuel, who was rewarded in return with a nice postcard of thanks.) Despite the fact that his thick old-school Norwegian accent had become something of a joke among his present-day countrymen (it is sometimes referred to as “the Heyerdahl accent”), Thor's command of the English language was better than my own, and he was fluent in German, French, Italian, and Spanish and conversational in several others.

I worked with Heyerdahl as his right-hand man for about seven years, setting aside my attempts to work again in Egypt until he passed away in 2002. My many adventures with Thor could fill a book of their own. Thor had several ideas in mind when he brought me aboard his research raft. First, he wanted an able coauthor to write an updated, condensed, and popularized version of
American Indians in the Pacific,
his scientific explanation for the
Kon-Tiki
expedition. The book, we decided, would be titled
Lost Wakes in the Pacific
and would be accessible to both scientists and lay readers alike. Second, Thor had ambitions to pursue a couple of new archaeological projects, including excavations at a site on the northwest coast of Morocco and investigations into the pyramids of Güímar, which lay within a short walking distance of his own home on Tenerife. Both projects were linked to his long-standing belief that the oceans of the world were not barriers between ancient cultures but natural conveyances whose winds and currents readily enabled people to move about and perhaps spread culture and ideas.
“Boundaries?” Heyerdahl provocatively asked. “I have never seen one, but I hear they exist in the minds of most people.”

The Moroccan proposition involved Thor's interest in Lixus, the ruins of a settlement with a port that was utilized at various times by the Phoenicians, the Carthaginians, and the Romans. Located on the Atlantic coast and perfectly situated to take advantage of currents running east to west to the New World, Lixus might perhaps offer clues to possible contacts across the oceans over many centuries, if not a couple of millennia, prior to Columbus.