The Bear and I: A Quest to Photograph the Himalayan Brown Bear

I first set out to photograph the Ladakhi bhalu or the Himalayan brown bear (Ursus arctos isabellinus) in 2004. Back in those days, there were hardly any pictures of the brown bear and I thought it would be good to have images of this rare species. With that thought, I left for Tirthan Valley in Himachal Pradesh. I was invited by the Himachal Pradesh forest department to photograph the western tragopan, a rare bird that’s even more elusive than the brown bear. But their territories were similar, so I was very keen to photograph the brown bear too.

For a fortnight, I trekked with great enthusiasm through the region’s passes with a team of local guides and porters, camping in mountain caves, and speaking to any locals we encountered. Fifteen nights later, we had one sighting of a black bear, but neither the tragopan nor the brown bear.

For the next 14 years, I made over a dozen trips and have trekked for weeks in the Tirthan, Pin, Tons, and Sainj Valleys, and in parts of Ladakh as well, in pursuit of this beautiful, elusive beast. It was finally in 2018, that I got my first publishable picture of the brown bear. But by then that didn’t seem important anymore. What was fascinating was how much I had learnt in each of these journeys. Sure, I didn’t necessarily get great sightings on most of these trips, and the most logical conclusion would be to deem them “failed trips”. But that’s where I see things a little differently. In each one of these “failed” trips, I learnt something new about the behaviour of the brown bear. After every one of these trips, I’d come back and use my newfound knowledge to get one step closer to shooting the brown bear.

During September and October, Gaddi shepherds often sleep at the mouth of caves, with the livestock huddled inside, so they know if a predator, particularly a leopard or bear, is approaching. Ladakhi brown bears are omnivorous and survive on a diet of grasses, roots, berries, and insects, frequently found in meadows. Occasionally, the bears will hunt small mammals and herbivores such as sheep, usually just before winter, when most flora has yielded to the cold. Shortly after, they hibernate, emerging again around April-May, when the grass is green and food is plentiful again.

Disheartened but determined, we set off to the Tirthan Valley, at a higher altitude. On our first evening, camping above the Tirthan River, I noticed a familiar brown blob, gambolling along the mountainside, on the opposite riverbank. The bear looked so relaxed and content, I felt certain he would be back the next day. The following morning, I set up a camera trap, and waited outside the cave, ready for action. Around 7 pm, the bear showed up, sniffed around a little bit, appearing relaxed as on the previous day. That is, until he reached the part of the meadow that I had walked in. I watched in amazement, as it retraced my footsteps, following the exact path that I had taken earlier that morning. Then, it turned around and disappeared. That trip was a bit of a game changer for me. It was 2010, and I had been intermittently tracking the bear for six years already. Six trips and only a few fleeting sightings. On the one hand, it seemed like bad luck, on the other, I had gathered a wealth of information about the species over this time. I knew, for instance, that Himalayan brown bears are extremely shy of human presence. Thanks to my experience in Tirthan, I also knew that they had a strong sense of smell ⁠— I had set up that camera trap at 7 am, and 12 hours later, the bear seemed to easily sniff my scent.