A walk along the mesquite-lined Karzakkan forest trail. This area is one of Bahrain’s few accessible green corridors and offers natural shade and quiet. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
The winds were fierce at the end of the Karzakkan forest trail, and the coastline — usually dotted with fishermen — sat nearly empty.
Only one man remained, his line cast quietly into the murky water. I’d learned that high winds churn up sediment, making it harder for fish to spot the bait.
Just before the sea, a rusted compound offered shade. A Bahraini flag snapped overhead. Under the awning, mismatched chairs, worn cushions and a scrap of black cloth near a sink painted the picture of a place lived in. Tacked to the concrete wall was a small mirror, mottled with decay.
Fishing nets packed and left to dry on the pier. They're used by Bahraini fishermen who rely on small-scale, traditional practices. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
A small, rusted mirror mounted on the wall of a fishing outpost reflects boats along Karzakkan’s shoreline. Used by fishermen, it also captures the surrounding seascape. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
Fishing boats anchored off Karzakkan beach on April 28, 2025. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
I wondered why it was there. A friend suggested it was for fishermen to tidy up before heading home. But the mirror didn’t show me — it reflected only the sea and docked boats behind me. A quiet lesson in perspective, perhaps.
This wasn’t the polished Bahrain of air-conditioned malls and Friday brunches. It was slower, rougher and quieter. The water, though clear, revealed algae-covered tires. Venture farther and a strip of makeshift shore emerges, more debris than beach.
I had hoped the island might offer a public beach that didn’t belong to a gated resort. But an island doesn’t guarantee beaches, at least not the kind you can easily access for free. What it did offer instead was something better.
Unripe dates grow in tight clusters hanging from palm trees near a fishing compound in Karzakkan, Bahrain. Date palms are widespread across the country, valued both culturally and agriculturally. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
A canopy view of the tree-lined path through the Karzakkan forest. The shade of the mesquite trees offer respite from Bahrain's heat. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
A compound is at the end of the Karzakkan forest trail, where the shaded serves as a gathering spot for fishermen. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
Karzakkan forest is a shaded corridor of mesquite trees arched like a natural cathedral. As I stepped beneath them, the air cooled — a rare mercy in Bahrain’s bleached landscape. It’s not a forest in the traditional sense, but a form of quiet therapy.
This kind of immersion in nature is what Japan calls “forest bathing,” or Shinrin-yoku. Studies from around the world link time in green spaces to reduced stress and improved well-being. In a place where greenery is scarce and walking often impractical, even a short stroll here offered a moment of restoration.
Tall reeds and wild grasses grow along the forest edge leading to Karzakkan beach. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
But like the coastline, the illusion breaks — abruptly. The canopy opens to a jarring pile of trash. Still, just beyond that, the road empties into the sea again and the calm returns.
On my way home, I stumbled on Al Hamoor Grills, a small fish grill that doesn’t stand out from the road, but local families clearly know it.
The menu was scrawled in Arabic on a dry-erase board, without a word of English in sight. That’s usually a good sign in my experience. A crowd gathered around the register; 40 or so bags of to-go orders were lined up at the pickup window.
I was only seeking a few photos, hoping to win over friends who found the beach experience underwhelming. Instead, the co-owner greeted me like family and ushered me inside.
The renovated and covered dining area is air-conditioned at Al Hamoor Grills in Karzakkan, Bahrain. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
The kitchen was a study in organized chaos.
Plastic buckets brimmed with freshly gutted catch from the morning, their silver skin stained a deep turmeric orange from a marinade.
The grill was a long, low altar of glowing embers, lined with butterflied fish. Nearby, enormous pots held biryani rice studded with cardamom and flecked with saffron.
Each plate of fish and rice came with thick-cut white onions, a heap of spicy arugula and a handful of lemon slices.
Sea bream and snapper cook on a long grill at Al Hamoor Grills in Karzakkan, Bahrain. (Shannon Renfroe/Stars and Stripes)
At a fridge, the co-owner pointed out the fish —snapper, sea bream, shrimp — and insisted I try them.
The grilled snapper flaked beautifully; the sea bream, fried until golden, was rich and peppery. No forks in sight, just black latex gloves. A woman nearby saw me hesitate and offered a tip: “Skip the gloves — get your hands dirty.” She was right.
Karzakkan Forest isn’t pristine. The coast isn’t curated. And Al Hamoor Grills isn’t fancy. But together, they offer something increasingly rare: authenticity. If you’re willing to look past the surface, you’ll find a version of Bahrain that’s real, quiet and generous.
Sometimes, that’s more than enough.
Karzakkan forest and beach
Address: Road No. 2732, Karzakkan, Bahrain Transportation: Uber 7 BD (19 USD) Hours: Open seven days a week, 9 a.m.-5 p.m.
Al Hamoor Grills Prices: 4 BD to 8 BD (10 USD to 21 USD) Address: Block 1028 Street 28 Karzakkan, Ash Shamaliyah Bahrain Hours: Sunday through Thursday, 7 a.m.-11 p.m.; Friday through Saturday, 9 a.m.-11 p.m. Information: +973 77999101; Instagram @hamoorgrills
