Mongolia After 40 years: Changes and an Outlook

Gobi Desert, September 2026. The ram second from right gave us the slip for two days, leading his 4 askaris over the mountain range at speed, before being taken by a single 500-yard shot.

Almost 40 years ago to the day and 10 trips in between, I was back in Mongolia hunting with a highly valued friend and hunting client. Since the inaugural trip in 1986 I have witnessed an evolution of trophy hunting and culture, much of it unfolding in real-time compared to the pace of change in the past and having a more distinct bearing on the future of hunting.

Broomed back 48x42. Massive bases and loads of character on this noble ram.

As a curator and advisor of fair chase hunting experiences, I can say that picture overall is still positive. But hunting success and overall hunter satisfaction today requires trophy size expectations to be set realistically according to current conditions, greater due diligence in selecting the right areas and outfitting partners, and detailed operational know-how.

I have a strong personal handle on it, but I am more vigilant and investigative than ever. There is no room for hype when presenting facts and insights informed by continuous field experience.

THE STATE OF THE MONGOLIAN HUNTING INDUSTRY

Mongolia’s hunting system is a hybrid of national quotas, provincial permit allocations, and community‑based wildlife management. It’s fragile and fraught with challenges, politics, extreme competition, and favors. There often are bad actors at the auction table driving up prices to secure the best permits or simply to deny their competitors a fair chance at a reasonable cost.

Ironically, the demand for permits by hunters is the principle driver of higher hunting costs. With demand increasing year over year and quotas either remaining flat or declining, it’s obvious that the upward cost trajectory will not reverse itself.

The permit auctions are always volatile and unpredictable, and the bidding has a direct bearing on hunt costs. In 1986, the cost of a Gobi Argali hunt was $7,500 and a High Altai cost was $12,000. Today, those hunts cost begin at $95,000 and $155,000 respectively for standard trophy area permits and up to 40-50% more for premium area permits that could possibly produce an out-sized trophy.

This Airbus 130 saved a 14-hour drive into the Gobi.

Are the Argali worth it at those prices? They are indeed “expensive” in many contexts, but I remain bullish that they are not commodities; they are priceless. No disrespect intended here, but when the better Dall Sheep hunts range up to $70,000 all up, all in, and Stone Sheep hunts span the $100,000 to $125,000 range, or Rocky Mountain Bighorn in Alberta at the $120,000 level that may have been attempted twice or more before scoring, I’ll take the cultural immerdsion and massive horns of the Argali.

TROPHY EXPECTATIONS

Forty years ago, the Altai, Hangai, and Gobi rams were heavier — not just in horn, but in presence. Old warriors that had never seen a human silhouette, never heard the echo of a rifle shot, never learned the geometry of avoidance. The rams grew old because the world moved slowly. The ibex grew heavy because the mountains were quiet. The anters of many Maral topped-out in crowns.

Five back-to-back severe winters have taken a toll on the grand older rams on the High and North Altai zones. And with domestic sheep and goat herds producing the primary ecological pressure, pasture degradation reduces horn growth potential resulting in lower average trophy size across all regions. Fewer animals are reaching full maturity in recent years.

Fragmentation also affected trophy potential. Roads, mining, and settlement expansion break up habitat resulting in reduced gene flow, smaller and more isolated populations, and more variability between hunting concessions.

Back in 1986, a 58‑inch Altai ram was not a miracle — it was a realistic possibility. Heavy rams of 60+ inches were still the exception, but some were taken annually. A 60‑inch ram is a survivor, a real outlier now. Today, more Altai and North Altai rams fall in the 50–55" class, with 57–58" considered exceptional, and 60+ possible but more of a one-off if taken at all.

The Gobi and Hangai Argali have fared better than the High Altai or North Altai rams. Gobi Argali of 48’ and a few specimens taping out at 50” inches plus have been taken recently, but a more realistic top-end goal is 44-46”.

Good Hangai rams are being taken in the 50-53” range, and some even bigger in the premium areas.

A 50‑inch Altai Ibex was not a legend back then — it was a reward for climbing one more ridge. Billies of 44-48 inches were more common. Billies remain plentiful but 40-44 is the current average.

This Gobi Ibex took lots of climbing and glassing before we got him.

Gobi Ibex populations remain strong but are pressured in some parts of their range. Forty years ago, 36-40” billies were common and a decent number reached 42-44”. Today, 40-42 is considered particularly good.

A heavy 12‑ or 14-point Maral was not a rarity in the 80s. Today, these species still stand like kings, but they are kings ruling smaller kingdoms. We hunt specific “pockets” now. The trophies are still magnificent — but magnificence now requires more luck, more patience, more respect for the fragility of the system that produces them.

The indispensable motorcycle used by scouts.

The giants still exist. The mountains still hold their secrets. But the margin for error — biologically and operationally — is narrower than it once was.

THE OUTLOOK

Today, Mongolia is still wild, vast, and capable of humbling a hunter in a single gust of wind. But it is a different wildness.

The rams are still magnificent — the largest wild sheep on earth — but they are no longer the unobserved giants of a forgotten frontier. They are creatures navigating a landscape shaped by mining roads, expanding ger districts, and the long shadow of the cashmere economy.

Home for a couple of weeks and the beasts - Land Crusiers.

If I were hunting Argali all over again, I would initially concentrate on Gobi and Hangai and give the High Altai and North Altai rams time to recover. There is already evidence of some recovery but giving the High and North Altai rams more time will pay off.

Shooter. Heavy. Aware. Captured on our hunt by Imtiaz Ahmad with his super lens.

Mongolia is a relationship‑based country. Experience and local networks are everything. Reliability depends heavily on the outfitting partner. The outfitter and the territory they hunt determines the hunt’s success more than any other factor.

Imtiaz working at his craft and state of the art equipment.

The hunt is still an expedition, but it is no longer an expedition into the unknown.It is an expedition into a land negotiating its future. Where once the hunt was shaped by the state, now it is shaped by the market — by demand, by access, by the delicate balance between conservation and opportunity.

White-tailed Gazelle. Plentiful and located about a 3-hour drive southwest of Ulaanbaatar.

What has changed is not the soul of the hunt. What has changed is the world around it. Hunts demand awareness — not just of terrain and distance, but of context. For those who come with respect, patience, and the willingness to climb until the sky thins and the world falls away — Mongolia still offers something no other place can.

By 2030, the gap between well‑run concessions and poorly managed ones will be wider than the gap in quality between hunting blocks.

The moral is to go now. Experience teaches to never wait for anything in hunting.

And don’t forget that Mongolia’s other game is worth considering. You can experience this mystical land by hunting Maral Stag, Gobi Ibex, and Altai Ibex for far less than most North American hunts.