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I needed a break from an out-of-control job. What I truly needed was an out-of-control fishing experience and an out-of-control partner to share it with. A quick call to my good friend, J.P. Thieriot, the CEO of Unexplored.com, and a couple of dot-coms were off to Mongolia in search of what might arguably be one of the most out-of-control fishing experiences commercially available today.
We were in search of giant taimen and bizarre lenok in the heart of northern Mongolia. We would be exploring the remote waters that flow out of Siberia not thirty miles away from our camp.
The seed of this trip was actually planted by Charlie Conn, a life-long Alaskan flyfishing guide. While on a trip in the great state of Alaska, Charlie invited me to Mongolia where he worked after completing his annual tour of duty in Alaska. 
Ulan Batar is out of control. In a single day and–most of a single night–we experienced throat singers, contortionists, traditionally dressed Mongols, Buddhist temples, and most out of control, a Mongolian night club. More than a few too many scotches later we stumbled aboard a Korean Airlines helicopter and clattered across three hundred miles of stark Eurasian real estate.
At our camp beside the Uur River, the lumbering insect of a helicopter set down with a lurch and we staggered from her bowls. We were greeted by Jeff Vermillion, his staff of guides, and some Mongolian natives. Jeff is the master of ceremonies and happens to own the camp and two other like camps in the region. He and his brothers operate a company called Sweetwater that specializes in developing fly fishing camps in remote and exotic locations.
We were escorted to our ger, a twenty foot round circus tent complete with a wood burning stove and electricity. With two people to a ger, we had plenty of room and to call it camping was a bit of a reach. Consider it five star camping. After settling in and stowing our gear, we went out to supper and began the slow but rewarding process of getting to know the other guests, guides, and support staff.
Charlie guided JP and me for the first couple of days and then we were guided in turn by Dave Goodhart and Matt Stoecker. Dave had an exceptional fishing pedigree. He was past host of Fly Fishing America. From the Copper River, to the Ponoi, to Argentina he could truly say, “been there, fished that.” Matt was also a serious career guide. He was anxiously waiting to find out if he had received a grant from the California Department of Fish and Game to fund a two-year steelhead conservation study in southern California. Not a bad hand of guides to draw.
On our first day of fishing, the morning was crisp, clear, and breathtakingly beautiful. Incredible vistas in every direction seem to be the norm for Mongolia. The only signs of man were the occasional Ger and the native nomads with their herds. The temperatures had recently plummeted, and the fishing had shut down. We only managed a few strikes on the first day, but it didn’t matter because I saw the biggest freshwater fish I had ever seen. 
Standing on a high bank trying to get video of a taimen rising to a verminator (a local rodent pattern), I looked down and spotted a fish that looked to be six feet long lying beneath a brush pile. I directed JP and Charlie from the bank, who made cast after cast to the behemoth to no avail. Eventually frustrated, JP and Charlie climbed up to join me on the bank so they could at least get a look; remarks not fit for print were directed at that fish.
The next day the weather warmed up and the fish started rewarding our efforts. JP and I each caught a pair of taimen. They still weren’t on the surface, but would take big black and purple deceivers fished in deep runs. These fish hit hard, and do most of their fighting around the boat. If they get in the current, they can head downstream fast. The guides recounted numerous fish that season that had near spooled or broken off customers too slow to follow them. One monster had broken straight 20-pound class. 
Lenok were an unexpected surprise. After throwing fast sinking 8- to 10-weight lines at taimen all day, the 3- to 5-weights with dry fly setups were a delight. We caught lenok at will for a number of hours during one of the most prolific mayfly hatches I have ever seen. They are feisty fighters, and can go from 14 to 34 inches. They could support a good destination fishery on their own.
As with most good fishing trips, the week went by way too quickly. If you consider yourself one of those anglers who fishes as an excuse to see wonderful people and places, this is the trip for you. Everyone caught plenty of taimen, including at least three or four that went over 40 inches, and we hooked a ridiculously high number of lenok given how infrequently we targeted them.
Awesome hosts, superb guides, flawless help, and truly extraordinary fishing. Out of control.
