Wild at Heart

MONGOLIA’S nomadic herders, with their deep attachment to the spirit of the land, offer a vanishing glimpse of unparalleled freedom

Mongolia’s nomadic herders, with their deep attachment to the spirit of the land, offer a vanishing glimpse of unparalleled freedom.

There are few places left on earth where you can travel 600 miles without hitting a Mcdonald’s. One of those is Mongolia, a country twice the size of Texas, where nomadic herders continue to live as they have for centuries. “There are no fences, no boundaries,” says Frédéric Lagrange, a French photographer who spent 17 years chronicling the seasonal movements of Mongolian cattle and reindeer herders. “You can walk from one end of the country to the other without being stopped. It’s complete freedom.”

The exception is Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia’s capital—currently the most polluted capital city in the world—where roughly 45 percent of the country’s 3 million people live. Mongolia regained its autonomy in 1990, transitioning to a democratic nation after almost 70 years of Soviet rule, and capitalism has exploded in the city. Here, you can find shopping malls, internet cafés and traffic jams.

But just 10 miles away, time stands still. Mongols move fluidly between the two worlds, maintaining their deep attachment to a past that extends back to Genghis Khan, the 13th-century warrior who founded the largest contiguous empire the world has ever known. Like Khan, “they are fierce people,” says Lagrange, whose book, Mongolia, is out in November (Damiani).

And yet, wherever Lagrange went he found warmth and hospitality. “In every ger—or Mongol yurt—there’s a spare bed and a spare meal,” he says. “It’s a way for locals to meet people and get news from the other side of the country. It’s almost mandatory to take others in and help them.” The long, vodka-fueled nights are spent swapping stories and singing songs, many of them extolling the glories of Khan.

For all its harshness, Lagrange has come to love the Mongolian landscape— the rocky, rolling hills and flat planes as far as the eye can see. Such undisturbed vistas produce “a meditative state,” one he has found nowhere else. “It makes every emotion, every moment, much more powerful.”

WRINKLES IN TIME

Seventeen years (2001 to 2018) separate these portraits of Altai, representing the nearly two decades it took for Lagrange to ɿnish his book. A ranger most of his life, Altai is in charge of protecting the Üüreg Lake area from Russian smugglers. His years spent on horseback in harsh weather have left their mark.

FORCES OF NATURE

Between the vicious sandstorms of the Gobi Desert and the subfreezing winters, fortitude is essential. In winter, the only sustenance is “meat, fat, ʀour and Mongol vodka,” says Lagrange. “The only animals that survive the cold are camels, yak, reindeer, goats and sheep.” Few roads outside the city are paved; people travel on a network of rugged dirt paths. When lakes freeze solid, they drive across to save time. Lagrange captured this scene in 2006, on Khövsgöl Lake, after a warmer wind weakened the ice. “After three passengers jumped out of the truck, the driver returned to save some personal belongings. As he climbed in, there was a deafening crack, and he ran for his life.”

SPIRITED AWAY

1. The Gandan Monastery in Ulaanbaatar, one of the few Buddhist monasteries to survive the government-sanctioned destruction under the 1930s Stalinist purge. 2. A stop on the Trans-mongolian train line, which runs from Ulan-ude to Beijing. 3. Shearing sheep near Üüreg Lake. 4. Technology is creeping in. Some hunters and herders now prefer motorbikes to horses, government-funded paved roads are appearing, and the once-rare TV antenna is becoming more common.

5. A young herder in Hatgal village. 6. A spread of food and Mongol tea welcomes any guests, who are often the only way to get news from other parts of Mongolia. 7. Dalaikhan, an Altai village hunter, wearing fox skins from prey caught by his eagle.

8. A bird ʀies over a ger’s uncovered roof. 9. A paved road leading to the Gobi Desert town of Mandalgovi. “When there are sandstorms,” says Lagrange, “everything—all the tracks and roads—will disappear.”

OUT OF THE PAST

A local cattle herder at Tolbo Lake. Herders can be men, women or children. “It’s a very hard life,” says Lagrange, “but I have never seen a grumpy herder.” Even those who choose city life have knowledge of the land. “Whenever there’s an economic crisis, people leave the city and go back to the herds. It’s interesting: Modern-day businessmen can ride horses extremely well.” Frédéric Lagrange’s book, mongolia, is out now and can be purchased at Fredericlagrange-mongolia.com

“It’s a very HARD LIFE.

But I have never seen a grumpy herder.”