Walk away from the big royal mounds and the landscape changes character completely. The east field at A'ali is not about individual monuments but about quantity: a vast scatter of small and medium mounds, hundreds of them, spreading across the gravel plain like the humps of a school of whales. Some are intact, others have slumped or been opened, and many have been nibbled at by roads, houses and farms. The effect is of a landscape in which the dead outnumbered the living by a huge margin.
At its height, Bahrain is thought to have had several hundred thousand burial mounds, one of the densest concentrations of prehistoric graves in the world. Over the last century, development has destroyed most of them, and what survives is a fraction of the original total, which makes the fields at A'ali especially precious. The area was included in the UNESCO World Heritage listing in 2019 as part of a series of Dilmun burial sites, and fences and signs now mark the protected zones.
The scale of this burial landscape raises questions that archaeologists are still working to answer. Why were so many people buried on an island that was probably home to only a few thousand? One theory is that the island was seen as sacred and that the dead of neighbouring regions were brought here, an idea supported by the mythology of Dilmun as a holy land. Another is that the mounds accumulated over many centuries, and the population was larger than assumed. No one knows for certain.
The ride is quick and flat from Madinat Hamad or Madinat Isa, along wide roads with plenty of roundabouts. Dust and sand blow across the tarmac, so watch your front tyre on corners, and keep an eye on traffic emerging from side roads. In the cooler months the gravel plain is a pleasant place to pause, with a view of the mounds under a pale sky.
Madinat Hamad, about four kilometres away, has the fuel, food and cash machines you will need. Come at sunrise, with a thermos if you have one, and the field is at its most evocative.