Into the Edge of Silence – Anini

Welcome to this blog, where I’ve chronicled the end-to-end of my journey to Anini. This beautiful town was part of my Arunachal Pradesh trip in April ‘2025, and (if you haven’t already) I’d suggest reading up the complete post on my trip to Arunachal Pradesh.

The Journey

The road journey from Roing to Anini, a remote stretch of roughly 235 kilometers, is one of the most breathtaking in Arunachal Pradesh. The transition from Lower Dibang Valley to the high-altitude wilderness of the Upper Dibang Valley is uniquely beautiful.

There are 2 significant landmarks within the first 65 kilometres of leaving from Roing. The first one being Mayodia Pass, located at an altitude of around 2,655 meters, very well known for receiving unexpected snowfall even in spring. As for while we were there, the place was enveloped in clouds, adding a quaint mysterious touch. Quite felt like a movie set – the kinds that Ramsay brothers are well known for 🤫

And soon after, the Old Hotel (that’s the name). Standing tall and proud since 1980, at the 65th km mark from Roing.

A very cozy setup of a place, serving basic local meals and hot beverages, and which seemed like a family heritage and very well known by locals.

(We’d realise much later in the journey that it’s best to have quick snacks at these kinda places coz the next eatery might be an entire day away or maybe not. The drives can be long and treacherous, and especially after it has rained, it’s possible to get stuck for hours / days together.)

The roads initially wound through dense subtropical forests filled with sal, tall bamboo, and hordes of wild banana groves but without a trace of the fruit. Dense thickets all along dominating the scene with birdsong and the chirr of cicadas. As we moved higher the vegetation transitioned dramatically to forests of oak, maple, rhododendrons, and eventually, conifers too. And every now and then there’d be a river flowing alongside, difficult to fathom whether we were following the river or vice-versa.

The roads were unpaved and mostly washed away by landslides and rain-fed rivulets. Although not the season, it had been raining and while that made the flora lush green, it quite played a role in transforming the journey into a test of patience. Mud-covered slopes, cloud-choked valleys, and narrow cliff-hugging paths. Long stretches with no mobile network and hardly any habitation.

Getting to Anini was no easy feat and yet the isolation added to the charm !

The Trek to Emuli Grasslands and Beyond

So I’m not a hardcore trekker – the kind who’d carry carabiners and quote altitude in meters like a mantra. But I do hike whenever I can, mostly for that moment when the world has quietened and all that remains is the sound of your breath and the wind through the trees. The Emuli Grassland trek, near Anini offered exactly that.

We began as early as possible, with the clouds still nestled low across the hills, and the sun trying to push its way through. The trek begins near an unassuming bend in the hills outside Anini town. The trail isn’t one of those “Instagram-famous” routes with a board announcing its name but just raw, local, and beautifully unmarked. For the first 20 minutes, you follow a dirt path. The trail then was uneven and slushy due to rains. No forest cover, just the side of a hill which had been cut through. The climb becomes noticeably steep after the initial half-hour, with a continuous uphill gradient that can leave the calves burning if not pacing oneself.

The views changed as soon as the initial dirt stretch was through, giving way to greener mountain sides.

Golden-green stretches of grass swaying gently in the wind, broken occasionally by wildflowers. The sky overhead was vast and ever-changing, with clouds rolling in and out like silent ships, casting shadows over the distant mountains. There were no huts, no tea stalls, no other trekkers. Just open space, wind, and an immense, humbling quiet.

The mountain goat in me had taken over and I climbed, slow but steady all the way to Emuli Grasslands, and then what’s deemed as Emuli Top and a little beyond that too!

Beyond the Emuli top, the trail kind of vanished or maybe it was just cloaked underneath the damp pine needles forming a slippery uneven carpet that made it feel like I’d slip any moment. covered underneath the pine leaves. Also, it had been more than an hour since I had left husband and our guide behind and so I had to retreat my steps.

Our tummies were growling with hunger after covering almost 10+ kilometers on foot and we headed into the very humble town of Anini for some food.

The Cute Little Town of Anini

Anini is a tranquil administrative town nestled deep within the Upper Dibang Valley of Arunachal Pradesh and one of the least populated district headquarters in India. The town itself is a modest scattering of pastel-roofed homes, a few government buildings, and narrow winding roads that snake through hills and woodlands. There are no malls, no fast food chains, just a few local eateries, cozy homestays, and an ever-present sense of stillness.

We found ourselves at one such tiny eatery owned by a Nepali couple. Walked in with zero expectations and walked out with happily filled tummies and dancing tastebuds.

Set against a backdrop of dramatic mountains and sprawling valleys, Anini is both a frontier outpost and a peaceful haven. With almost no commercial noise, it offers a rare kind of serenity – a town truly on the edge of silence.

Into the Heart of Waterfalls – Acheso

Day 4 began with a drive to Acheso, a picturesque village that is part of the Anini administrative area in the Dibang Valley district of Arunachal Pradesh and specifically described as the “last border village under Anini”.
The initial route went through undulating ridges and finally giving way to more plush scapes with the Dri river next to you for almost the entire journey like a loved companion. Well, I already had mine and Dri just added to the charm!

All along the way, till Bruni which is the last motorable road (only folks or trekkers with special permissions can go beyond this) waterfalls plunge dramatically from the high rise cliffs on both sides, some thin and musical like wind chimes, others roaring with the full might of mountain streams swollen by recent rains. The most unforgettable ones came unannounced, veiled in mist and half-hidden behind thick groves, turning the road into a series of enchanting reveals. And funnily enough, they haven’t been christened barring maybe about three.

Mawu Waterfalls: A Hidden Cascade in the Enchanted Forests of Acheso

The trail to Mawu doesn’t scream adventure. It hums it. Just a signpost, zero grandeur! A discreet footpath slipping off the roadside, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking.

But take a few steps in, and the forest begins to shift around you. The trees thicken, the air dampens, and the light begins to dance differently, filtered through a canopy draped in moss and secrets. Soon, the trail dips into what feels like another realm entirely. Ferns – delicate, curled like sleeping question marks – line the path in silent welcome. Overhead, giant moss-laden boughs hang like nature’s chandeliers, their weight held by time. The ground is damp and earthy, with tangled roots.

It felt like walking into a fairytale, like Hansel and Gretel if they’d stumbled upon an ancient rainforest instead of breadcrumbs. I half-expected a storybook creature to peek out from behind the lichen-covered trunks. And in that quiet, dripping stillness, I didn’t think I would’ve been surprised if one had.

The sound of the waterfall doesn’t greet you immediately. It sneaks in slowly, like a distant hush, growing steadily. And just when your senses are fully tuned to the forest, Mawu revealed herself – not as a gentle curtain of water, but as a roaring, sky-spilling force of nature. The falls thundering down from a towering cliff face, each tier cascading into the next in an unstoppable rush. Mist rose in thick plumes from the rocks, catching the light in ghostly swirls, while the lower streams frothed and clawed over giant boulders like a river unleashed. There was nothing serene about it. Mawu didn’t whisper, she bellowed. Standing before it, dwarfed by the sheer height and fury of the fall, I felt the kind of awe that makes you instinctively step back, heart racing, as if nature itself had just thrown open its gates and dared you to enter.

We didn’t speak much. Some places don’t require conversation. Just quiet presence, and maybe a little awe.

The night at Dree Afra Campsite

We returned to Dree Afra Campsite, our lodging for that night. The campsite sits in a quiet clearing by the Dree river, just beyond Acheso village. The setup is mostly of permanent canvas tents standing on wooden platforms, and 2 wooden cabins with shared washrooms at one end of the campsite. A neat communal dining area, sit-outs with benches and bonfire pits in the open. There’s no wifi, just open skies.

We had a local meal, hot coffee, and an entire evening to ourselves.

Just soaking in the beautiful simple slice of experience of what Himalayan camping must feel like. Far away from civilization – remote, raw and remarkably welcoming.

That night was the last at Anini. We left early the next morning to go to what should have been Roing (in order to break the journey to Ziro), but didn’t quite reach there. The below post details why. Happy Reading!