We were awakened by a loud rap at our hotel door in the small desert town of Erfoud.
It was 4 a.m. — time to board a Land Rover for the long drive over the bumpy, unpaved road to the edge of the Sahara Desert.
It was well before dawn when we walked warily into the darkness, attempting to reach the crest of the highest dune to await the sunrise.
Walking was difficult. Our feet sank into the soft surface, and our shoes became heavy weights as they filled with sand. It was an effort to keep going, and I was out of breath.
Though I could not see them in the darkness, I was aware of two robed figures holding my elbows, guiding me along. When I noticed that my husband, too, was tiring, we allowed our Arab “escorts” to lead us to a lesser dune, where we sat down on the cold sand to await the dawn.
As the sky grew lighter, I could see that our guides were wearing the indigo-dyed robes and turbans of the nomadic tribes known as “blue men.”
They told us they lived in a tent with their family of 12. Their livelihood was digging for fossils, which they would polish and sell. They showed us several and demanded firmly that we buy them all.
For $75!
Although we were grateful for their help, we were not that grateful. So they settled, unhappily, for what I thought was a very generous tip.
And the sunrise? Yes, we watched it.
But the dark, eerie meeting with the blue men, as we trudged in the cold desert sand, was the most memorable part of the experience.
