When Time Slows Down: Documenting Butterflies in the North Eastern Himalayas

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In the north-eastern Himalayan region of India, the terrain doesn’t follow any predictable pattern. It rises and falls without warning, weaving together rugged mountains, dense forests, and deep valleys. As someone who has spent years photographing butterflies in this region, we can say with certainty: this landscape doesn’t just shape what you see—it shapes how you live, travel, and even perceive time.

Where Distance Isn’t Just Physical

Unlike the plains, where distances are direct and mobility is relatively simple, the mountains distort everything. A short route on the map often translates to an exhausting and time-consuming journey. What should be a 30-minute drive may stretch into an all-day expedition—depending on the weather, terrain, or whether a fresh landslide has blocked the way.

For butterfly photographers like us, the challenge is never just about finding the butterflies. It’s about navigating a geography that resists access—trekking through pathless forests, crossing rivers without bridges, and waiting for hours or even days for the weather to clear. Sometimes, the journey ends before it begins, washed away by rain or blocked by a broken bamboo bridge.

Inaccessibility Is Also Man-Made

These challenges are not merely natural—they are also structural. The region’s remoteness stems from a long history of underinvestment in infrastructure.The following data, highlighted in the Arunachal Pradesh Human Development Report 2005, underscores the severe infrastructural challenges facing the state. According to the Arunachal Pradesh Public Works Department (1997), 61.47% of villages lacked basic road connectivity. In the hills, a village is considered disconnected if there is no road within 1 km; in the plains, the threshold is 5 km. Overall, 26.56% of the population lives in officially designated inaccessible areas. The state’s road infrastructure has witnessed substantial growth over the years. The total road length has increased from 14.52 thousand kilometers in 2007 to 33.46 thousand kilometers in 2015, and further to 40 thousand kilometers by 2021. Similarly, road density has improved from 17.34 kilometers per 100 square kilometers in 2007 to 39.95 km in 2015, reaching 47.76 km per 100 sq km in 2021.

Despite this progress, the state’s road density remains significantly below the national average of 192 kilometers per 100 square kilometers. Moreover, the density of national highways in the state is relatively low, standing at just 3.35 kilometers per 100 square kilometers in 2015.

This means that planning a trip to document a rare butterfly species during the monsoon requires more than just scheduling. It means uncertainty. A route that appears as a road on Google Maps may actually be a mudslide from last year. Often, we had to walk several kilometers downhill—and then several kilometers back uphill—carrying not just camera gear, but water, food, and safety supplies, because there was simply no alternative. During one such expedition, we witnessed a man carrying an elderly relative on his back, secured with a muffler, as he slowly navigated a narrow, rocky trail. It was a powerful reminder that for the people who live here, this is not adventure tourism—this is daily life.

Environmental Fragility Adds Another Layer

The region’s extreme environmental sensitivity compounds the inaccessibility. Landslides, unpredictable rainfall, and fragile mountain slopes make road maintenance a constant challenge. Roads built one year may vanish the next. Even where roads exist, public transport is limited or non-existent. Hiring a vehicle is costly and often unreliable, with only one or two jeeps servicing remote areas—if at all. The vertical terrain forces vehicles to burn more fuel, making even short trips expensive. What might take an afternoon elsewhere can consume a full day and a significant portion of a monthly fieldwork budget here.

Road condition of Vijaynagar, Arunchal Pradesh. Video by Mahesh Baruah (CC BY SA 4.0)

Time Runs Differently in the Mountains

This lifestyle forces a slower pace. We often joke with friends in the city that time in the North Eastern Himalayas runs on its own clock—one not synced with watches or calendars. In this region, success depends on patience, persistence, and adaptability—more than technical skill or even knowledge of species.

But in this slowness, there is something rare: intimacy. You don’t just take a photograph and move on. You sit. You wait. You observe. We have spent hours in silence in the forest, waiting for a butterfly to land. And in that stillness, we are blessed to learn more about the natural world than any book could teach us. The mountains may delay you and challenge you—but they also teach you how to be still, how to notice, and how to truly appreciate.

The Value of Slowing Down

Yes, working as a butterfly photographer in the North Eastern Himalayas takes more time—much more than it would elsewhere. But perhaps that’s not a disadvantage. In a world obsessed with speed and instant results, these mountains offer a vital lesson: that some of the most beautiful things in life—like the flutter of butterfly wings—are best witnessed slowly.

The success of the Wiki Loves Butterfly (WLB) team in documenting vast and remote regions across seven North Eastern states over the past eight years is rooted in far more than fieldwork alone. It is built in deep community engagement, trust-building and long-term presence. In areas like these, meaningful exploration takes more than field visits—it takes time, relationships, and persistence. As per our experience we need more of all three to continue uncovering and preserving the extraordinary butterfly diversity of north-east India.

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