On Sept. 1, the news came that the Turkish government would not give its OK, for "security reasons."

"They didn't explain it further," said McGivern, of Hawai'i Kai.

But he'd held out hope — still does, in fact.

"Until they tell me there's snow all over ... ," he said. "You do everything you can."

He was hoping, sometime during the summer, to send three teams of 10 climbers on an expedition to the top of 16,945-foot Mount Ararat in Eastern Turkey, seeking evidence of the boat described in the Old Testament.

His faith in the expedition's potential, along with the sheer magnitude of the risky trip, earned him nationwide attention, including TV coverage, magazine articles, even notice in supermarket tabloids.

Now that it's off, for the summer and probably forever ("I'm not the type of guy who'll do it next year — this was the year for me"), he's out $310,000 from his own pocket.

Daniel P. McGivern gained national attention with a plan to send 10 climbers to look for the remains of Noah's Ark on Mount Ararat in Turkey.

In 1997, McGivern commissioned satellite pictures to be taken of the area where a Turkish professor reportedly saw a piece of the legendary boat.

Changes in the weather provided a boost: A meltback in summer 2003 and improved satellite imaging allowed McGivern to commission new photos, which he believes show the ark.

Was it a religious expedition or a scientific one? McGivern, at the time, said it was the latter.

It had been a questionable quest from the get-go, drawing skepticism from some scientists. While there are some — mostly creationists — who say there was a global flood in human time, others find it harder to prove.

Bion Griffin, a professor of anthropology at the University of Hawai'iiManoa, was among those who questioned the endeavor.

"There's a whole line of people who think they've seen Noah's Ark," said Griffin, associate dean of the college of social sciences, when told of the expedition in May. "To me, it's a fool's choice. ... Ultimately it's a waste of time."

Among the team members McGivern had assembled were archaeologists and forensic experts, "both believers and non-believers," he said then.

But for Bulent Terem, the only Hawai'i member and a Chaminade University chemistry professor, the time came to go back to class and focus attention elsewhere.

Now McGivern waxes philosophic as he looks at a gift sent from his daughter: a crown of thorns.

"We're all here to serve God," he said, resignation straining his voice. "We put our hands up, and it's him who does the picking."