Visit Bahrain

Back in Dammam, we picked up our bikes from a friend’s place and pointed them east towards the minuscule island state of Bahrain. Bahrain isn't known for motorcycling, the country is nearly the size of Hamburg, completely flat, and yet it is one of the most densely populated countries in the world. That, coupled with the mad traffic and driving style makes it a less enticing place (side note: motorcycle accidents were so high the government considered bannign delivery riders). Yet we gave in to the temptation of visiting a new country just 50 km away.

Accessing Bahrain from Dammam was easy, both countries were connected by the 25 km King Fahd Causeway. The border itself sits on an artificial island right in the middle of the bridge. A series of concrete, glass, and checkpoints surrounded by water.

We crossed over and started poking around the island. The southern half of Bahrain turned out to be almost empty of civilization: no towns, barely life, just oil and gas infrastructure. Nodding jacks all around, pipelines running across the land, and a smell in the atmosphere that makes one think twice if lighting a cigarette is a good idea.

We checked out the Dragon Rocks, some clay formations standing out of the otherwise flat land, and the caves which turned out to be abandoned bunkers. Next was the Tree of Life, a stubborn 400 year old tree standing alone in the desert, wedged awkwardly between oil pipelines and a tourist bedouin camp. With almost no annual rainfall, it survives by sending its roots deep into the ground, tapping into underground water source. Its resilience has turned it into a quiet symbol for the people of Bahrain, who have stood their ground through centuries of hardship and change.
And that's pretty much it in terms of landscape.

Finding a campsite proved to be difficult. Beaches were closed as private property and empty land was covered in construction sites, oil piplines, or other infrastructure. We ended up on a beach strip with a small park frequented by locals. It was also where the delivery drivers hung out while waiting for orders often having loud phone calls near our tent. It also meant that the nights were equally as loud as the day. Nonetheless, the same drivers also delivered our pizza, so we were somewhat content. Next day, we woke up to flamingos doing their morning walk in the shallow waters.

The other half of the island is the opposite: Manama and its outskirts are densely populated. The original plan had been for RidingKismet to head into town by public transport, while city-phobic IronChris stayed outside to breathe. From this campsite, though, this didn't really work out, so in the end both riders pressed on to the capital to at least visit the National Museum for an introduction to Bahrain’s history, followed by a quick stop to the Bikers Corner (Bahrain Motorcycle Club) and got a courtesy bike wash.

Afterwards, already in the dark, we once again went hunting for a place to sleep. And again we found a beach, next to the causeway leading out of the country, and again delivery dinner to get rid of the few local schmoneys we had taken out. And just like that we high-tailed it out of Bahrain and picked up the windy highway south towards Qatar.
Perhaps we were impatient, and perhaps we did not give Bahrain the chance it deserved, especially on the cultural side. But we felt the urge to chase the kind of freedom we know from too long times ago.
But maybe that was the problem. Perhaps when you chase something too hard, it has a way of slipping through your fingers. But maybe we would find it again in Qatar...Read more