They say that one is subjected to a sobering sample of what can only be described as an existential crisis when traversing the golden and seemingly infinite terrain of the Sahara Desert. If one climbed any of the countless sand dunes and twirled around in a place, particularly under the starlit sky, they would scarcely be able to tell east from west without a compass, for there would be nothing but dizzying carpets of indistinguishable sand hills unfurling into the distant horizon. Daunting thoughts of purpose and self-worth aside, people fortunate enough to visit this sandy wonderland via a heavy-duty SUV, or more traditionally a hired camel caravan, are treated to a truly breathtaking sight. The wave-like ripples caressing the beautiful collection of irregularly shaped sand dunes, some barely half a story and others close to 600 feet in height, are as unique as the etchings on one's fingertips. To some, they are Mother Nature's stretch marks. To others, the wind-prompted patterns might conjure up an image of a god with a rake in hand, whistling carelessly and combing through the gritty grains of sand, as one would with a miniature zen garden to melt away their stresses.  

In August of 2008, London-based Jane Macartney published this striking description of the Gobi Desert in The Times: “On the Mongolian steppes, the emptiness and the silence inspire awe. From time to time, a huge, tawny eagle drifts on the breeze, watching for small animals to snatch amid the grasses. The only movement on the ground comes from the flocks of sheep and goats, yaks and cattle that roam, heads down, as they much their way across the grasslands...”