Across Mongolia's endless grasslands

For as long as I can remember, traversing the wild expanse of Mongolia was my ultimate dream. As a child growing up in Bangladesh, I read countless stories of Mongolian nomads moving with the seasons, the historic duality of heroism and brutality surrounding Genghis Khan, the legendary exploits of his successor, Kublai Khan, the endless rolling grasslands, the eternal blue sky and the great, mysterious Gobi. 

To my young mind, it always felt like a country existing completely outside the boundaries of the modern world. I never imagined that this deeply rooted childhood dream would be fulfilled so early in my life.

Getting there was by no means easy. Bangladesh has no diplomatic relations with Mongolia, so Bangladeshi passport holders must apply for a visa through an embassy in a third country, and flights from Dhaka are expensive. Between the visa uncertainty, the airfares and the near-total absence of Bangladeshi travel information online, Mongolia remains one of the least-visited countries for Bangladeshi travellers.

Terelj National Park is home to the 40-metre statue of Genghis Khan on horseback, holding a golden whip.

After months of research, I partnered with ETU Travels, a local Mongolian agency. Our tourist e-visa applications, submitted in July 2025, were rejected. The agency reapplied under a K4 Content Creator visa, approved at the last minute, and we scrambled to catch our flight. My travel companion was Salahuddin Sumon, one of Bangladesh's most prominent travel YouTubers. Our goal: to create the first comprehensive Bengali travel content on Mongolia.

The gateway to the north: flight into Ulaanbaatar

We flew Dhaka–Kunming–Beijing on China Eastern Airlines, then boarded an evening flight to Ulaanbaatar on MIAT Mongolian Airlines. The real adventure began before we landed: mid-flight, the aircraft was shaken by violent turbulence, and looking out into the dark sky, the sheer force of it felt like an echo of the ancient, tumultuous days of heroic wars and nomadic conquests.

ETU Travels met us on arrival: Mr Parthiban Natarajan, a South Indian who handles the agency's international communications and has settled in Ulaanbaatar after marrying a Mongolian woman; Mr Boldo, our guide for the 15-day trip; and Mr Baagi, our driver, whose steady, fatherly presence kept us safe across thousands of kilometres.

Ulaanbaatar is the coldest capital on Earth, with winter temperatures regularly below minus 30°C, and a city of contrasts — modern, growing, and heavy with traffic. We stayed near Sukhbaatar Square, the city's historic centre, named after the revolutionary hero. The next morning we visited the Genghis Khan National Museum, learned about the country's other national heroes at the square, and paid respects at the Government Palace, where a bronze statue of Genghis Khan overlooks the capital.

Our host family’s children made our time on the Mongolian steppe all the more memorable, with their warmth, playfulness and boundless curiosity.

Plunging into the Great Gobi Desert

Leaving Ulaanbaatar meant leaving the traffic behind for emptiness. Mongolia has about 3.4 million people, making it the world's most sparsely populated country — just over two people per square kilometre. Nearly half the population, around 1.6 million, lives in Ulaanbaatar alone, leaving only 1.8 million across the rest of the country.

Each day brought a different landscape. Tsagaan Suvarga (the White Stupa) is a clay formation carved by wind erosion, its pink, red and white limestone strata almost Martian. At the Flaming Cliffs (Bayanzag) — globally known as the site where dinosaur fossils and eggs were first discovered in the 1920s — we saw replicas of finds now held in New York museums.

As the tarmac gave way to dirt tracks, that divide became visible: we drove 100 kilometres at a stretch without seeing another person, surrounded only by open horizon, scattered ger camps and free-roaming livestock.

We headed for the South Gobi — not a sand sea like the Sahara or Arabia, but a semi-arid, rocky basin of scrubland and canyons, with sand dunes confined to specific areas. Chief among them are the Khongor Sand Dunes (Khongoryn Els), in the Sevrei and Bayandalai soums. They run about 180 kilometres behind the Sevrei and Zuulun ranges, covering 965 square kilometres, from 27 kilometres wide at their broadest to 800 metres at their narrowest.

From the ridge, sand hills stretched to the horizon: jagged mountains to the south, bare golden dunes in the middle, green river oases to the north. Seasonal floods from the Zuulun mountains flow beneath the sand and resurface at the northern edge as the Seruun Bulag and Arganga Bulag streams, running west for about 10 kilometres and sustaining life at the desert's edge.

Here we met the Gobi's ultimate survivor: the Bactrian camel. Unlike the one-humped Arabian camel, it carries two fat-storing humps, a mouth built for thorny scrub, and a coat that resists temperatures below minus 40°C — and can drink over 100 litres of water in minutes when it's available. We found hundreds roaming alongside wild horses, with eagles overhead.

We slept in ger camps throughout. Mongolia's nomadic heritage means it has few historic stone structures — Genghis Khan conquered the known world but never built himself a palace or a statue. Even today, with modern amenities within reach, Mongolians still choose the freedom of the ger over permanent housing. The rewards of that lifestyle showed at night: the sky over the Gobi became an expansive dome, and free from any light pollution, I watched the Milky Way spill across the horizon — nowhere before had I seen so much of the sky.

Canyons, Flaming Cliffs and the Windows XP steppe

Each day brought a different landscape. Tsagaan Suvarga (the White Stupa) is a clay formation carved by wind erosion, its pink, red and white limestone strata almost Martian. At the Flaming Cliffs (Bayanzag) — globally known as the site where dinosaur fossils and eggs were first discovered in the 1920s — we saw replicas of finds now held in New York museums.

The Orkhon Valley landscape is reminiscent of the famous Windows XP wallpaper

From the desert heat, we drove into Yol Valley (Yolyn Am), tucked deep within the Gurvan Saikhan Mountains — a narrow, sheer-walled canyon of rock and deep shade, so heavily shielded from the sun that it holds a thick field of ice deep into summer. Further on, toward the Orkhon Valley, the landscape shifted back to vibrant green: endless grassland and sprawling herds of cattle, mirroring the old Windows XP wallpaper come to life. In all my travels, I have never seen pastures so beautiful, vast and unbroken.

Echoes of empire and faith

In Kharkhorin (Karakorum), founded by Genghis Khan in 1220 as the Mongol Empire's capital, we explored the archaeological remains of what was once the centre of global power before the capital moved to modern Ulaanbaatar.

Along the way, we stopped at the Ongi Steppe, a quiet valley on the Ongi River, home to the ruins of Ongi Temple. Founded in 1660, it once comprised 30 temples and four Buddhist universities before being destroyed in the communist purges of the 1930s. Monks are slowly restoring it; one rebuilt temple now serves as a small museum. Nearby, we visited a ruined Buddha Vihar demolished under Stalin, when Mongolian Buddhism lost much of its scripture and heritage to religious suppression.

Fire, water and the nomadic soul

Further north, we spent a night beside Terkhiin Tsagaan Lake (the Great White Lake), near the Khorgo Volcano, exploring black basalt fields left by ancient lava flows.

Heading back toward Ulaanbaatar, we stopped at Terelj National Park to see the 40-metre statue of Genghis Khan on horseback, holding a golden whip.

Our last night was spent in a ger camp with the family of an ETU Travels team member, gathered under the majestic Mongolian sky for a traditional dinner. Mongolian cuisine is mostly meat, which suited us fine — the grilled meat was excellent. Salahuddin bhai braved the local airag (fermented horse milk); I didn't dare. We spent our remaining hours riding horses, playing with the family's children and enjoying the boundless hospitality of the steppe — a memory I will cherish forever.

For a brief moment, sitting under that endless canopy of stars, I wondered what it would be like to live there forever. But then I realised the truth: I wasn't born to settle anywhere. I was born to travel the world, to keep moving, nomadic just like the Mongolians. Mongolia had fulfilled my wildest childhood dream, and I left knowing I would return to this beautiful, endless grassland again and again.