I’ve been a fisherman for as long as I can remember, following the natural progression that many fly anglers experience. It begins with fishing using worms, then transitioning to spinning, and finally, at a pivotal moment—often by chance—we discover the enchantment of fly fishing. From that point on, everything else becomes part of our journey. I experienced this myself. There’s always an evolution in an angler`s journey, a quest for different fish—larger, more elusive, and found in truly wild rivers. This inspires us to dream of our next destination, the grand fishing adventure of our lives!
For the past few years, I’ve been a member of two clubs in Slovenia, where I work as a guide during the winter months. We pursue and catch impressive Danube salmon (Hucho hucho), with some specimens exceeding 120 cm in length and weighing over 20 kg. Alongside my dear Slovenian friends and fellow fishing enthusiasts, Klemen (a.k.a.The marble whisperer) and Rok (a.k.a Dr Huchen), we’ve long aspired to catch the larger cousin of the Danube salmon—the Taimen—the largest salmonid in the world. Velibor Ivanovic, a colleague, friend, and an international guide and tour operator who has advocated and popularised Huchen and Taimen fishing for nearly three decades was the host and main organizer of the trip, which we considered joining. We didn’t hesitate too much; it was time to go, and there was no longer reason to delay. Together, the three of us make the perfect fly-fishing team. After all, if you’re going to the other end of the world, it’s best to do it with your closest friends. It was settled—Mongolia, here we come!
Rivers, Fish, and Equipment
The plan was to go to northwestern Mongolia, which is very close to the border with Russia. Our final destination was Taimen Lodge – located at the confluence of the Shishkid and Tengis rivers. It is a fairy-tale place that takes the breath away of any nature lover.
One of the most exciting things for an angler is to prepare for an upcoming trip or adventure like ours. We only fish with flies. By fly, we mean anything that imitates the fish’s natural food. In this case, streamers sized from 20 to 30 cm, imitating lenok and grayling, the other two species of fish inhabiting the rivers in Mongolia. We either make these streamers or buy them from other fly tiers who have proven themselves in the fly-fishing community. Special thanks here to Milan Marjanovic and Andrey Artarsky, who helped us tremendously with suitable streamers for fishing for these specific fish. Also to Klemen, who was with us and had made the right streamer, on which the most taimen were caught. Besides fish, the streamer can also represent a surface lure, imitating a mouse, rat, or the local type of squirrel – the chipmunk. The surface attack is the most impressive. Every fly fisherman dreams of that explosive moment when the taimen splits the water’s surface to engulf not the dry fly but rather the dry mammal swimming in the river.
For taimen, we use double-handed rods in the 11-12 class, which are 11 to 12 feet in length. The line is a short Skagit-style floating shooting head (for floating lures) or sinking (for streamers). The tippets are about 1.5-1.8 meters of 0.40 mm. The streamers are made on hooks ranging from 2/0 to 4/0. We fished only with single barbless hooks.
For fishing lenok and grayling, we use lighter fly rods, such as a 5 or 6-weight. We fish with nymphs, dry flies, and smaller streamers. These fish are abundant in the river. Mainly, grayling serves as a consolation prize when taimen are not feeding. However, catching a taimen requires a lot of determination and persistence. Since it was our main target, we spent most of our time with the big rods in hand, tirelessly casting the monstrous streamers.
The Journey
We embarked on our adventure on August 26 and returned on September 6, enjoying seven fishing days. I left Sofia Airport alone and met up with Klemen and Rok at Istanbul Airport. Together, we continued our journey to Ulaanbaatar, specifically Chinggis Khaan Airport. The flight lasted about 8-9 hours, and we arrived early in the morning, where we met the other group members: five Italian spin fishermen and our tour organiser, Velibor. Our goal for the day was to reach the town of Mörön.
When уе wеие traveling in Lexus SUVs, the long drive of approximately 800 km wasn’t as daunting as it seemed. We arrived at dusk and checked into a local hotel, where we enjoyed a restful night before continuing our journey to our final destination the next morning.
After about twenty kilometres, the asphalt gave way to dirt roads, and we found ourselves navigating through the stunning Mongolian tundra. The landscape was dotted with livestock: yaks, camels, sheep, goats, and horses. With over 70 million animals and just over 3 million people in Mongolia, the countryside was alive with pastoral scenes. Occasionally, we would glimpse a yurt or a small settlement.
We made several stops for breaks and fuel along the way. At one point, we paused in a small village for lunch. Entering a traditional yurt, we found “Hotel” written in Cyrillic outside. Inside, two women and a few small children greeted us. They offered us tea, prepared a hearty pasta dish with sheep meat and vegetables, and provided generous portions. After enjoying our meal and taking a brief but refreshing break, we reassured ourselves that there were only five more hours of travel ahead.
As we continued, we crossed rivers and streams, spotting wild eagles and numerous chipmunks darting to their burrows. Eventually, we reached the lake and its namesake guard, Tsagaan-Nur, along its shores. We crossed the lake on floating platforms that served as a bridge. After another hour of true off-roading, we finally arrived at the camp, greeted by a breathtaking sunset and our gracious hosts.
The lodge was exceptionally modern and cosy, considering its location. It features a larger main building where we have our breakfasts and dinners, along with three bungalows. Each bungalow has three beds and a stove. Additionally, there is a separate facility with bathrooms, toilets, and even a sauna, which we used almost every day after fishing.
Overall, the journey to get there was tiring, but I’m glad we travelled by land, as it gave us a good sense of where we were and where we were headed.
On our return trip, we flew in a small 12-seat plane that picked us up from a field about an hour away from the lodge. We reached the clearing in UAZ vehicles, navigating a rough stretch of road. The flight offered us a different perspective, allowing us to see the wild beauty of Mongolia from above. However, when the turbulence intensified, and one of the guys in our group filled up a motion sickness bag, everyone started to feel unwell. I can’t say the flight was more pleasant than the car ride.
Nonetheless, we landed at the airport in Mörön after a three-hour flight, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air. At that point, I realized that my phone had likely fallen out of my pocket in the UAZ on the way, but it was too late for hasty actions. We contacted the Mongolians, and after about a month and over 7000 kilometres, my phone was finally returned to me.
From Mörön, we took another three-hour flight to a small airport in Ulaanbaatar. There, we checked into a lovely hotel, where we indulged in relaxation, good food, and sightseeing in the Mongolian capital. We bought cashmere for our loved ones and some souvenirs. After a one-day stay, we began our journey back home, reminiscing about the incredible fishing adventures we had experienced.
The Fishing
First three days
Our daily schedule was set: we woke up at 7:00 AM. A staff member would light the stove in our room with a mini gas burner. During our stay, temperatures ranged from -2 to 16 degrees Celsius. After breakfast, we jumped in our waders, grabbed our fishing rods, and headed to the boats. Each boat carried three of us, along with a local guide. We travelled downstream along the river. The guides often pointed out the taimen we could see in many instances. They typically positioned themselves where two currents met, sometimes in relatively shallow areas, near an island, or where a tributary flowed in.
We stopped at suitable spots, but it was prohibited to fish from the boat. We were informed that these were the national park rules where we were located. The fish didn’t seem particularly scared of the boat motors.
In the first few days, fishing was not easy for our fly-fishing group. We fished in the Shishkid River, which is large, turbulent, and impossible to cross at its widest points. Only Rok managed to catch a nice taimen on the first day—a beautiful fish just over a meter long. The next day, Klemens also caught a small fish, which sparked jokes at my expense.
“Come on, Stan, we’re catching lenok and grayling so you can catch a taimen too!” my friends teased me on the third day. I told them to focus on their own fishing and watch what they said, reminding them that he who laughs last laughs best!
Our guide, Boldo, stood on a high rock along the riverbank. I was a bit above him, making my way in that direction. “Taimen! Taimen!” he pointed into the water in front of the rock. I carefully crept forward and spotted a huge fish in the water. I made a relatively short cast, about three meters above the fish. The streamer began to sink slowly, and as it neared the taimen, I saw its mouth open wide, and the seemingly enormous streamer simply vanished inside. I set the hook with a sharp tug on the line with my left hand, and adrenaline surged through my body. The fish was large and fought valiantly—stronger than the Danube salmon we had caught.
It swam downstream and hit a rapid stretch of the river. I couldn’t stop it. We had to act quickly while keeping our composure. We jumped back into the boat and followed my dream catch. This was the best decision, and when we reached a slower section of the river, where we quickly netted my first taimen.
What an incredible emotion! I shook off the weight of anticipation; my dream catch was finally a reality! We measured the magnificent specimen, which came in at precisely 125 cm. We took a few quick photos before releasing the giant back into its kingdom.
On the Fourth Day of Fishing.
On the fourth day of fishing, it was decided we would fish in the Tengis River, the main tributary of the Shishkid River. Although it was smaller and had fewer fish, legends spoke of enormous taimen inhabiting its waters. We travelled for over an hour to reach our fishing spot upstream. It was September 1st, and it was promising to see that the morning temperatures were below freezing and the first frost had fallen. This is a critical time that always activates the taimen.
Unfortunately, during the first part of the day, nothing happened. We moved from pool to pool without even spotting a taimen. We caught Lenok and Grayling during our lunch break. Afterwards, we picked up our double-handed rods and continued with the heavy artillery.
At one deep and long pool, Klemens shouted, “Fish!” I immediately rushed over to him. After an intense battle, we managed to net a massive taimen, the same length as mine from the previous day but much thicker. Klemen was the happiest person at that moment.
As the day drew to a close, we stopped at the last pool where we planned to fish. Although our guide usually didn’t fish, he occasionally picked up his rod to cast a chipmunk imitation on the water’s surface. After leaving us at the pool and pointing out where the fish were likely to be, he took his fly rod and quickly moved to a lower stretch of the river, where it made a bend and formed a small pool. I felt this was not a coincidence and decided to follow him, casting my streamer behind him.
He quickly surveyed the area before retreating to the bank. Perhaps on my fifth or sixth cast, my line suddenly stopped, as if snagged on the bottom. I instinctively set the hook. For the first few seconds, I wasn’t sure if I had a fish. Then the taimen shook its head, dispelling my doubts. The fish surged towards me, leaping out of the water with most of its body in front of me. That’s when I realized I had hooked a monstrous fish, exceeding my wildest expectations.
The splash attracted the attention of the others, and everyone rushed over to help. I chased the fish about 200 meters downstream as it swam into the current, making it impossible for me to pull it out. I needed to reach a calmer section of the river to try to win the battle. Fortunately, such a spot emerged at the next bend. After another 5-6 minutes of struggle, we managed to net the head of the monster and finally caught it.
What an incredible moment! What a fish! Even now, as I write these lines, I tremble at the memory! The Mongolian guide with us was the most experienced and confidently declared that the fish was a record one, exceeding the dream size of 130 cm. When we measured it, it came in at a whopping 135 cm and likely weighed over 25 kg. We were told this was the length record for the Tengis River, and no larger taimen had been caught on a fly rod before. A dream come true!
Last three days
The next three days of fishing were exhilarating! On one of those days, Rok caught three taimen (125, 116, 113 cm), while I caught two around a meter long. A major success was that one of the taimen I caught was the only one in the group caught on a chipmunk imitation on the surface. Another dream realized! The week concluded with Rok catching 7 taimen and Klemen and I each catching 6. Everyone had a 125 cm fish recorded. The spin fishermen also did well, landing 21 taimen among themselves. My one from Tengis remained the largest catch. We also caught countless Grayling and several beautiful Lenok.
I experienced intense emotions and was fortunate to share them with friends, surrounded by Mongolia’s wild nature’s magic and pristine beauty. Perhaps it was the fishing adventure of my life! Naturally, we are already planning to return to Mongolia and wade into its rivers again. I was lucky to fulfil this dream. Dare to pursue yours!
