Dawn had hardly broken as we set off up into the mountains.
Past little villages set in the dust.
In among the rocky crags devoid of vegetation.
There was something beautiful about the barren, rocky mountains.
Every now and again there was a mosque. It seemed hard to imagine that people could scratch a living out of these dusty, hot places.
We passed herds of goats roaming over the land, scratting for whatever they could find to eat.
We emerged onto a flatter plain that was desert brushland – sand and clumps of resilient plants.
There were Bedouin camps with their herds of goats – nomadic people who have lived here for centuries.
The Bedouin herds spread out over what looked to be a very inhospitable land.