Imagine yourself on a cold, flat, desert plain surrounded by sharp towering dunes, days from anything that resembles a village. It’s winter, so your feet ache as the soft sand sucks the heat out of your soles, yet the only thing you care about at the moment is eating your breakfast, freshly prepared desert bread, baked in the charcoal fired sand oven. With you are a dozen or so friendly Bedu that you hired to guide and protect you as you become the latest in a handful of westerners to ever cross the treacherous Rub’ al Khali.
