By late 2025, my travel log for the year was embarrassingly thin – just a food-fueled Bangalore binge, a spontaneous Gujarat hop and a 48-hour in-and-out to Haryana. Nothing wild (except the lions in Gir, of course), nothing that left me dusty, breathless, and with fresh energy to take on 2026. So, with the clock ticking toward New Year’s, I decided my last trip of the year had to count: no city lights, no forts, no tourist trails. Just raw, rugged Arunachal Pradesh – off-grid corners where the signal drops, the roads test you, the air bites cold, and the landscapes feel brand new every bend. So new, that I’d never been to the state before. My final destination was Menchukha (more on that later). But first, we need to pass through Kamba and Aalohttps://www.thatgoangirl.com/kamba-and-aalo-my-first-glimpse-of-arunachal-pradesh/ (aka Along).
About Kamba and Aalo
Kamba and Aalo sit in Arunachal’s rural West Siang district, a quieter, less-trampled part of the state, far from the bustling Assam plains. Kamba is the district’s main hub – a mid-sized town sitting amid rolling hills, and the mighty Siang River (part of the Brahmaputra system). It’s got that small-town rhythm: top branded showrooms alongside little markets with local produce, many hotels and restaurants, and the like.
Just 25-30km away, Aalo/Along is even more off-grid. Here, the Adi tribe influences everything from bamboo homes to festivals. It’s a beautiful natural spot for easy hikes or river gazing under skies dotted with lazy clouds. I timed my visit for North East Rider Mania 2025 (NERM), a 3-day Royal Enfield biker meet that turned Aalo into a temporary hub of revving engines, live music, and cultural mash-ups – perfect for filling otherwise slow days.
Finally, that rare thrill of landing somewhere Google and Instagram barely know. No available itineraries and blogs online, no word-of-mouth tips, and a sense of discovery that makes every bumpy road worth it. In a state where tourism is still whispering its secrets, Kamba and Aalo were my gateway to the wild north-east, en route to the ethereal Mechuka (Menchuka), a remote Himalayan valley that’s special for its 6,000ft isolation – snow-capped peaks, barren meadows, gushing Siang gorges, ancient Buddhist monasteries like Samten Yongcha….
And trust me, if you’re craving unfiltered adventure over Instagram poses, this is where you start. Trip planning may be a puzzle, but the payoff is pure: disconnect, soak in the slow life, and marvel at Arunachal’s raw beauty.
Getting to Kamba
After a day of airports and airplanes from Goa via Delhi, we finally landed in Dibrugarh as the light was fading. In Arunachal Pradesh, in winter (and even otherwise), it gets dark by 4:30 PM. Outside the airport, we picked up the rented car that we had pre-arranged and drove out of the airport area, only to stop for a very late lunch at a roadside restaurant called Melllow Breeze. Hot fried rice, chicken, and some honey chilli potatoes – which were steaming, filling, and exactly what we needed after airport snacks all day.
The hotel search was inconvenient at first, but nothing I haven’t faced several times before. I largely tend to book hotels upon reaching my destination. I do have this luxury as I have my own rental car with me to get around in, and it allows me to get a feel of the place and even look at the rooms before I book. So, all our bookmarked options were full. One hotel directed us to their sister property, The Convoy Hotel, and it proved to be a great fallback. Rooms were spacious with large floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street – good light during the day, an interesting street view at night. Wi-Fi was reliable, beds were comfortable, and the overall feel was quiet and functional. We ordered dinner to the room, handled some work, watched some TV, and slept well.
Breakfast at Wingsong, the hotel’s restaurant, the next morning was excellent: fresh parathas, eggs cooked to order, a fruit bowl, toast, and strong chai. Tummies full and spirits high, we packed up, checked out, and pointed the car toward Kamba, Arunachal border – ready for the 220 km stretch that would take us into the hills. Oh yes, I should mention that you need an Inner Line Permit to cross the border into Arunachal Pradesh. You can apply for this online, and it will be checked at the border.
The road from Dibrugarh into Arunachal started changing character almost immediately after we left the city behind – pavement giving way to patches of gravel, then smooth stretches again, only to break up into potholes that made the car bounce. The landscape shifted too: flat Assam plains slowly rose into gentle hills, paddy fields turning greener and denser, the air cooling with every kilometer as the Siang River valley drew closer.
Around 2 PM, we pulled into a small roadside café on the Assam side of the border – nothing more than a shack with a couple of chairs, some chips, and a gas stove with tea always on the boil. We ordered lal chai (red tea, as they call it here), served in small mugs. Five Royal Enfield riders were already there, helmets off, laughing over their own cups. They were headed to the North East Riders Meet (NERM) too, and the conversation flowed easily – where they’d ridden from, what the road ahead was like… it was the first real hint that the festival was pulling people in from all directions.
We kept driving, the road twisting through small villages and forested stretches. There are barely any restaurants or even proper restrooms along this route; mostly just tea stalls and the occasional shop selling biscuits and cold drinks, so plan your stops wisely. Around 4:15 PM, we rolled into Basar and spotted Six Mile Dhaba, a pit-stop with more seating than the rest. The place had tables full of more bikers. We grabbed a quick snack – some chowmein, hot pakoras, more chai – and soaked in the view of the valley. Everyone was in high spirits, swapping stories about past NERM editions and how the festival would kick off that night in Aalo. You could feel the mountains calling everyone forward.
Onwards to Aalo
As we made our way through Kamba and neared Aalo, several groups were riding in packs – ten, fifteen at a time, with flags blowing in the wind and helmets glinting in the late afternoon sun, horns greeting as they passed. The closer we got to Kamba and Aalo, the more turn-offs we saw dotted with riders pulling over for photos, smoke breaks, or just to stretch. By the time we reached Kamba’s main town around 6 PM, the streets were alive with them: bikes parked everywhere, people in riding gear chatting in clusters and the low rumble of engines mixing with evening bird calls.
From a large intersection, a sharp left and a 30-minute ride will take you to Aalo. I won’t get into the 3-days of the North East Rider’s Meet here, but you can catch glimpses of it on the highlights section of my Instagram page. We stayed on-site for a night and moved to a homestay called Dejum Homestay, 15 kms from the festival grounds for Days 2 and 3, where I paid Rs. 1500 per day for a small, clean room with an attached bath.
On Spending 3 Days in Kamba and Aalo
Aalo is tiny – more of a hamlet than a village. There’s basically one main road running through the center. A couple of interior lanes branch off, narrow enough that you feel like you’re walking into someone’s backyard. General stores? You can count them on one hand. They sell chips, cigarettes, and, oddly enough, you’ll spot a large box of assorted shoes or plastic toys inside. Chai stalls do Maggi, tea, and omelettes – that’s the extent of “fast food.” A couple of small restaurants housing 6-7 chairs and 2-3 plastic tables serve rice, beef, and pork for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
That’s it. No cafes, no nightlife, no malls. Locals live simply: in their homes, raised on bamboo stilts, with goats, pigs, and chickens living on ground level. The houses are quite practical – people stay on the upper floors, safe from floods and thefts, while the animals on the ground floor generate heat that rises into the living space on cold nights. It’s also for security (harder to steal livestock when it’s sleeping right under the family), protection from rain, and easy monitoring. The ground floor stays open or semi-open, so cleaning isn’t impossible, though it’s still daily work. Hygiene-wise, the living area stays above the mess. It’s a system that’s been working for generations.
On one side of Aalo is the river and wide rocky riverbeds that you can walk on and sit on rocks for hours, soaking in the peace. Stop at a vegetable shop, and you’ll see things you don’t usually find: odd greens, edible flowers, local roots – stuff that’s clearly foraged or grown right there.
Most of our time in Kamba and Aalo was at the NERM grounds for the biker festival, so when I needed to work or charge my phone, finding a power socket was an adventure. I ended up sitting at one of the 2–3 homely restaurants or shops with a table and outlet. Turns out every other digital nomad and phone-charger did the same thing, so it wasn’t awkward.
One afternoon, we drove down a side road just to see what the real Aalo looked like, the interiors, I mean. We found a pretty pocket called Bene with hills that seemingly start right behind the back doors of houses. People sat outside their homes watching the odd passerby walk by, and would just talk to each other, just like how my villagers in Saligao, Goa used to do during grandma’s time. A few curious locals came over to ask where we were from, and remarked about how their village has progressed over the last few years of Modi’s governance. Although truth be told, the accelerated infrastructure push is to improve military mobility and last-mile connectivity along the India-China border.
P.S. In case you didn’t know, you can scroll through the pictures in the embedded Instagram posts below.
Next Stop: Menchukha
Once the biking festival was over, we drove down past Aalo for Menchuka, but we crossed back through Aalo and Kamba on our return, and stopped at Kamba for the night before heading to Dibrugarh. We stayed at Hotel Yomgo View – with its old, tired facade and bathrooms, especially rough – but the sheets and floors were clean, so we survived one night. Across the road was Cafe Aalo, and they served some good chai and surprisingly decent sandwiches. We sat here in comfort to do a few hours of work on the night of our return from Menchuka. After dinner, we drove around Kamba – everything shuts by 8–9 pm – but the town felt quietly progressive: car showrooms, retail outlets, and a lot more developmental signs of growth.
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