Trip Report – 2023 Mongolia Photography Tour

Some places feel like old friends. Mongolia is one of them. I’ve led over 20 Mongolia Photography Tour, and every time I return, it reminds me why I fell in love with it in the first place: the silence of the steppe, the resilience of its people, and the kind of light that makes photographers whisper, “Oh, come on…” under their breath because it’s just that good.

This past September, I had the joy of guiding another small group through a journey that I never get tired of—from the rolling dunes of the Gobi Desert to the snow-kissed peaks of the Altai Mountains, where Kazakh eagle hunters still ride with the same quiet dignity they’ve had for centuries.

We started in Ulaanbaatar, where we shook off jet lag over dumplings, cold Chinggis beers, and—for a few of us—whatever local gin was behind the bar. The energy was a blend of nervous excitement and total awe. Because Mongolia doesn’t ease you in gently. It pulls you in with both hands.

Once we left the city behind, the landscape opened up—and so did our eyes…. oh, and the Gin bottles came with this group. The road to the Gobi isn’t lined with much, but every kilometer brings new stories. I had everyone keep their cameras handy even during “drive days,” because in Mongolia, the side of the road often holds more magic than any itinerary could predict. Herds of Bactrian camels, kids on horseback, a shepherd waving from the horizon—it’s all fair game.

Our ger camp at Khongor Sand Dunes sat right where the desert starts to sing. And yes, the dunes actually hum when the wind catches them just right. The mornings here were gold—soft light spilling across the ridges, camel herders leading their animals into the sun, and guests learning how to photograph motion without turning the scene into a blurry camel mess. This is where I get to teach things like anticipating the moment, watching the direction of light across the sand, and dialing in that exposure so the highlights don’t blow out the world you came here to photograph.

But here’s the thing I always remind people: these images aren’t given easily. They’re not performed. They’re earned. And that’s where my years of experience in Mongolia come in. These aren’t staged encounters. The herders know me. They’ve shared their tea with me. Some have had me photograph their families over the years. That trust changes everything—and our guests feel that difference from the moment we arrive.

From the desert, we flew west into eagle hunter territory—Bayan-Ölgii, where the mountains slice the sky and traditions fly on wings. Literally. Photographing golden eagles in flight with the Altai peaks behind them is the kind of thing that makes you forget to breathe. But more powerful than the action shots were the moments of stillness: a hunter adjusting his fur coat, his eagle gazing into the distance, the wind tugging at everything except their focus.

During our two full days with multiple eagle hunter families, during our Mongolia Photography Tour, I walked participants through the nuances of photographing portraits with cultural weight. We talked about composition, yes—but also how to capture dignity, connection, and story without intrusion. We even had one guest manage a shot mid-sneeze from a horse… 10/10 for timing, zero for comfort. (Don’t worry, they’re fine—and the photo was worth it.)

This wasn’t a tourist show. These were deeply personal, quiet interactions made possible by years of mutual respect. When you see the images from this trip, you can feel it—these weren’t taken. They were offered.

Back in Ulaanbaatar, we slowed things down. One morning, we visited Gandan Monastery, a place I’ve returned to more times than I can count. The scent of juniper drifted through the courtyard, and the sound of chanting monks wrapped around us like a soft, low pulse. I guided our group on how to photograph respectfully in sacred spaces, how to use natural light in low-light interiors, and how to create images that feel just as reverent as the place itself.

Later, in a quieter corner of the monastery, we were given private access to photograph a few monks at rest—eyes closed, hands folded, light pooling through the latticework. High ISO territory? Absolutely. Worth it? Every time.

But we weren’t finished just yet.

To mark the end of our Mongolia Photography Tour, we did something special. We rented out a private museum in Ulaanbaatar for our farewell dinner. Before the meal, we were treated to a private tour through exhibits that traced Mongolia’s history from the Bronze Age to the empire of Genghis Khan. It felt like stepping into the timeline of everything we had just photographed. Suddenly, those portraits, those camel herders, those eagle hunters—they all had deeper context. We saw what came before them. And it gave our images weight.

Then came the music. Dancers in flowing deels spun across the floor, throat singers filled the space with sound that didn’t just echo—it vibrated in your chest. And then, dinner. A catered spread that was almost too good to eat… almost. We toasted, we laughed, and we looked through each other’s photos like proud parents at a school recital.

In the end, we didn’t just take pictures. We made memories. Real ones. The kind you only get when you slow down, build trust, and photograph with purpose.

That’s the gift of a Mongolia Photography Tour. You come for the photos. But you leave with stories, friendships, and a new way of seeing the world.

We return every year. See our Mongolia Photo Tours here