Fishing
Though it may be halfway around the world from the trout streams we usually talk about, Mongolia’s rivers are every bit as magical, and then some. This is the land of the Taimen — legendary, oversized predators that behave like a cross between a gigantic brown trout and a wolf. And the crazy part is that the same pristine waters these monsters haunt are also jam-packed with native Lenik and Grayling for the times when anglers want to take a break and throw some lighter lines.
Fishing here is a mix of drift-boat days and classic wade fishing, and there’s room for pretty much every style under the sun. Most anglers keep a five-weight handy for the trout and grayling and a nine-weight for the taimen, though you’ll see everything from single-handers to 13-foot spey rods making an appearance. Switch rods actually work surprisingly well from the boat, and if you’ve never fired a Skagit head across a glassy pool at sunset and skated a mouse for a fish that could swallow a football… well, let’s just say it’s a memory you won’t shake.
Taimen are not shy. They eat fish, mammals, even birds — which means your fly box can range from streamers to skaters to noisy, gurgling surface bugs. For those anglers who tie, definitely check out this pattern and fill a box with 12”ers before making the trip. The fist strike never fails to leave new guests either speechless or howling. The trick is not to panic. Keep stripping until you feel the weight, then bury the hook with a STRIP SET like you’re burying the hook in a Tarpon. And if you miss? Slam that fly right back on the water — odds are that angry fish is still looking for a fight.
But Mongolia isn’t just about the river wolves. The Lenok — ancient Siberian trout with golden flanks, red bands, and sharp black spots — are everywhere feeding eagerly on hoppers, mayflies, and stoneflies all season long. They’ll crush a mouse just as happily as a bead-head nymph, and while a three-pound Lenok might sound modest to the inexperienced, in this setting it feels like finding a forgotten chapter of trout fishing history. Then there are the grayling, which rise casually to hatches at your feet and will even slash at a mouse too on occasion. They’re also taimen candy, so don’t be surprised if your little grayling suddenly vanishes in an explosion of spray and teeth. Especially if you imitate it with a Swook!
Gear here runs the gamut. The “classic” set up is a stout single-hand 8- or 9-weight for taimen, plus a lighter 4–6 weight for trout and grayling. Bring spare rods if you can — it’s not uncommon to break one in the excitement, and more than one guest has landed a trophy taimen on a backup trout stick. Both floating lines and 24’ sink tips up to 400 grains should be on hand. Large-arbor reels with good strong drags are essential; these fish are measured in feet and pounds, not inches. Leaders can be anything from 20# nine footers for the Taimen down to standard lighter weight trout tapers for Lenok and Grayling. The guides will provide taimen flies — big, smart, and proven — but if you’ve got an experimental pattern you’re dying to try, throw it in. Nobody really knows what will work until it does, and that’s half the fun.
Every day out here feels different. One day you’re skating mice to a fish older than you are, the next you’re knee-deep in a side channel watching a dozen grayling rise in the film, and the day after that you’re drifting a canyon run with the mountains on fire in the evening light. No two casts are the same. And while the fishing is world-class, it’s the sheer wildness of Mongolia that lingers longest: rivers with more fish than people, predators that belong in legends, and a landscape so vast it resets your perspective with every bend.
