In the far reaches of India’s northeastern frontier lies the land of Arunachal Pradesh that remains largely untouched by time. A land where clouds kiss the earth and ancient tribal cultures still thrive in harmony with nature.
This blog chronicles my journey through parts of this beautiful state, through perilous rain-slicked mountain roads, across high-altitude valleys, and all the while trying to decipher the lives of the people who call this place home.
The Planning
It started with planning our first break of 2025 during spring (almost summer). If you know me, then you know that I’m always on the lookout for the most far flung places and as much as possible far away from crowds. So while husband’s first choice was Shillong, mine was Arunachal Pradesh and that too the offbeat route. Little did I know then what I was signing up for, but no regrets!
The Itinerary – Far from the Guidebooks into Arunachal’s Hidden Heart
Unlike the well-marketed and relatively accessible town of Tawang, much of central and eastern Arunachal Pradesh remains off the radar for most travellers, primarily due to its remoteness, challenging terrain, and limited infrastructure. These regions, nestled deep in the folds of the Eastern Himalayas, require special permits, multiple days of road travel, and a willingness to forgo conventional tourist comforts. Connectivity is sparse, both in terms of roads and networks, and many areas remain untouched by large-scale tourism promotion. But this very inaccessibility is what preserves their raw beauty, rainforests that seem ancient, rivers that run wild, and cultures that remain deeply rooted and distinct. These are places where the journey itself becomes the story, which is perhaps why they’re still known only to the curious few who seek more than a destination.
And so, the itinerary was mapped out as follows:
Day 1 – We flew into Dibrugarh before crossing over into Roing, the border state of Arunachal.
Day 2: From Roing, we drove to Anini, one of the most isolated towns in the region and spent the next day (3) exploring in and around the beautiful town.
Day 4: We headed to Acheso, the valley of waterfalls and spent the night at a beautiful campsite.
Day 5: As per schedule, we should have returned to Roing.
Day 6: Drove from Roing to Ziro, the destination of ZMF and spent the following day (7) chilling out in Ziro.
Day 8: Headed to Aalo just for an uneventful night stay and to break the journey to Menchukha.
Day 9: Onwards to Menchukha and what can be deemed, the toughest drive ever to the beautiful, wind-swept, high-altitude valley. (My innards still scream at the very recollection of it.) But thankfully had it easy for the next 3 nights.
Day 12: Menchukha to Dibrugarh and return to Bangalore the following day (13).
Thirteen days, seven different places, countless hours on winding mountain roads, and not a moment that felt wasted. These places don’t offer tourist attractions in the usual sense, instead, they ask for time, openness, and a willingness to go where the roads are rough but the rewards, unforgettable. This is a part of Arunachal that isn’t just seen—it’s experienced, mile by mile.
The crossover into the destination state
We boarded a morning flight from Bangalore and 5 hours later (including a brief technical stopover at Itanagar) landed in Dibrugarh (in the state of Assam). And from there it was another 3 hours of drive to Roing, the first town as soon as we crossed the border into the Lower Dibang Valley in Arunachal Pradesh, and which is also the last major township at the north-eastern frontier of India.
The road journey was uneventful but beautiful, and quite peaked up my eagerness as to what it’d be like from the next day, once we hit the mountainous landscapes of Arunachal Pradesh.
For the rest of the places in the itinerary, it would be injustice if they didn’t have a post of their own. Click on the links in the below carousel to read about Anini, Ziro and Menchukha.
The Hospitality
Accommodation and food, across the towns we travelled to, unfolded in different forms – homestays, hotels, and even the occasional resort, but none of them followed a script. Each place offered a distinct rhythm, shaped by the people who hosted us and the way they lived. Some were modest hotels with hot water and firm beds, a small luxury after long mountain drives. But it was the homestays that left the deeper impression.
The homestay in Mechukha had 3 neat bedrooms with attached bath and a couple of shared dorm rooms. (Hot water for bathing would need to be fetched separately – the hostess always brought it to the room in a bucket).
What stood out was a common living area with a bukhari stove in the center. A warm, open space where all guests gathered. People from different walks of life, sharing space and stories in equal measure.
And the kitchen was really the heart of the home – a neat setup with a bukhari stove again. The hosts dishing out food and love and guests gorging upon the delicious home-cooked meals seated on the tiny stools and low tables laid out across the kitchen. It felt personal, relaxed, and deeply rooted in the culture of the place.
In contrast, our stay in Roing offered a quieter kind of hospitality. It again had 4 bedrooms each with an attached bath (with hot water facility). The kitchen there was enclosed within the family’s private living space – separate, almost sacred. All communication happened over the phone, we called in our dinner order before 6 p.m., and hours later, a hot, home-cooked meal was brought to our door. No small talk, just quiet care.
These differences weren’t just logistical—they were cultural, revealing how each household carried its own sense of warmth, reserve, or routine.
Even in resorts, where the experience leaned more towards comfort, the real luxury lay in the view from the window and the stillness of the hills beyond. In places this remote, accommodation is never just about a bed – it’s about sharing space with people who live slowly, cook from scratch, and offer what they have with quiet sincerity.
The Food
Food in this part of Arunachal Pradesh is deeply connected to the land – simple, seasonal, and shaped by tradition.
For the locals, the meals are centered around rice, often steamed in bamboo or cooked plain, accompanied by meat (especially pork) boiled with bamboo shoot and boiled vegetables or sautéed leafy greens. Referred to as “khana” and had at any time of the day when hunger pangs hit, it’s zero fuss and just the basics. This is a very common sight – locals enjoying their khana at a local eatery – just a plate of hot rice and accompaniments.
Also prevalent in these meals are a variety of chutneys made from local herbs and wild ingredients and/or tomatoes and chillies, almost always setting the taste buds on fire.
For breakfast, the available option is mostly the humble roti-sabzi (vegetable – dry or curry) and maybe sometimes poori-sabzi / paratha-sabzi depending on availability and the place.
What stood out across all these places was how little packaged or processed food is consumed – most ingredients are either foraged, homegrown, or sourced from the local market.
Thukpa, maggi and noodles are commonly seen in the local eateries and restaurants, but mostly only consumed by tourists. We found momos only in Menchukha, (maybe due to Tibetan influence) and that was truly the best momos I’ve ever had.
The Tribes behind the Trails
Travelling through the remote regions of Arunachal Pradesh, one of the most remarkable aspects is how distinctly the identity of each place is shaped by the people who call it home. Across Roing, Anini, Ziro, and Mechukha, you meet different tribes – each with their own language, customs, way of life, and even temperament.
In Roing, the main indigenous communities are the Adis. Their houses are supported by wood and bamboo structure with raised floor of well split bamboo over beams supported with wooden or bamboo stilts. Rough or sawn planks or bamboo splits are used as walls with thatch or palm leave for roofing. The house is a big hall with a hearth at the center where members sit together and all cooking activities are done (which is exactly how our hosts’ home in Roing was). Along the house may be an attached room for a pigsty. The Adis are also very well known for their handicrafts work.
Up in Anini, you’re firmly in Idu Mishmi territory, one of the most isolated and culturally intact tribal regions in the state, also known for their deeply spiritual worldview and reverence for nature. Their houses are again raised above the ground and supported on wooden posts. Bamboo, cane, wood and leaves of toku and straws are used for construction. The front is an extension of roof with ground floor to keep the domesticated animal and next to it is a small veranda/corridor made of bamboo or plank for stepping up from the ladder to enter into house. Their lifestyle remains closely tied to forest traditions—many still forage, fish, and hunt in the traditional way, though modern life is slowly seeping in. Spiritual rituals, myths, and taboos form a quiet undercurrent to everyday life. They’re people of few words, but their connection to their environment is something you feel in their food and their hospitality. Idus tend to be reserved with outsiders but warm once trust is built—our own hosts here were polite and self-contained, with minimal conversation but unmistakable care in the way they hosted us
Ziro introduces you to the Apatani tribe, known for their lush valley rice fields and unique agro-forestry systems. The Apatanis live in compact bamboo houses in tight-knit villages and are among the more accessible and culturally open tribes in Arunachal. Traditionally, older Apatani women were known for their facial tattoos and nose plugs, though the practice has faded with newer generations. Their lifestyle is community-oriented, meticulous, and peaceful—they are excellent farmers, known for their sustainable wet rice cultivation without using animals or machines. Their food is mild, hearty, and simple, often cooked without oil.
In Menchukha, the dominant community is the Memba tribe, who share cultural ties with Tibetan Buddhism. Their homes, food habits, and spiritual life are all influenced by this. Members of the Memba community are typically warm and expressive, and our stay here reflected that—meals were had together in the kitchen, stories were shared easily, and there was an openness that made us feel immediately at ease. Their monasteries, prayer flags, and woodfire kitchens add to the distinct Himalayan-Tibetan flavor of Mechukha.
Across all these regions, modern life is slowly making its presence felt. But the essence of each community still rests in their rhythm of life – slow, grounded, and deeply rooted in the land and seasons. As a visitor, what stays with you most is not just the scenery or the food – but the quiet dignity with which these tribal communities live, and how they carry their identity not as something to be displayed, but something simply, unshakably lived.
And I think that’s what makes Arunachal further remarkable. Each tribe has its own language, customs, food, attire, and even calendar. No two regions are alike – geographically or culturally. And yet, they are all bound by a shared reverence for nature, communal life, and a quietly defiant resilience in the face of harsh terrain.
The People who made this possible
This was quite a last minute trip and wouldn’t have worked out had it not been for Mr. Hirok from Travespert – our travel tour operator. Definitely hit them up for the most amazing and reliable North East India tours.
And lastly, the two boys – Angshuman and Mridu. They’re the field partners to Travespert and really even entrepreneurs in their own right, with their own travel company called WildBugs. Well, let’s just say we quite survived all the wild adventure coz of these two and specially Angshuman’s expert driving through the crazy landscape.
The Afterthoughts
Thinking back to that fortnight – the high grasslands of Emuli, the misty cascades of Acheso, the stillness of the paddy fields Ziro, and the soulful quiet of Menchukha, I realize Arunachal Pradesh doesn’t ask to be conquered, rather requests to be noticed. In its quiet trails, shifting skies, and lands where maps blur into memory, every journey feels personal. It’s a place that challenges you gently and rewards you deeply. You come for the landscapes, perhaps, but you stay longer in the silence, in the rivers, in the way the road hums beneath your wheels. And when you leave with your muddy boots and a full heart, it’s with less noise, and more story. And this was mine. ❤️
Discover more from thatbrowngirlinblackboots
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
