Mongolia’s wild landscape captured through the lens of photographer Frédéric Lagrange

Stories of Mongolia stole Frédéric Lagrange’s heart and sparked his imagination when he was a young boy. Today, the photographer captures intimate everyday moments and epic landscapes in the Land of the Eternal Blue Sky

I have been to Mongolia 14 times, experienced every season, along with the challenges that come with working in a climate that shifts so wildly.

The first time I travelled to Mongolia was in the summer of 2001. I was working as an assistant in New York to a fashion photographer. I had saved enough money to take a month off from work and organised a trip to practise photography. I had long had it in mind to go to Mongolia, as that country is intricately entwined with my family’s history.

My grandfather fought in the French army during the Second World War and was caught and jailed by the Germans. A faction of Mongol soldiers under Soviet command freed him, along with other British, American and French soldiers, from a prisoner-of-war camp in late 1944.

Photo 1 of 4 A herder on his camel in Gobi Desert (Photo: courtesy of Frédéric Lagrange)

Photo 2 of 4 As my local team and I were driving on the frozen Khövsgöl Lake, Khövsgöl Aimag, we saw two men lying on the ice about 20 kilometres from the nearest shore. It was early morning and both men were already drunk on cheap vodka. They did not say a word to us (Photo: courtesy of Frédéric Lagrange)

Photo 3 of 4 A young woman wearing a traditional Mongol wedding outfit in Ulaanbaatar (Photo: courtesy of Frédéric Lagrange)

Photo 4 of 4 A motorbike rider on the outskirts of Altai village, Bayan Olgii Aimag, in full winter gear to protect himself from the harsh winter (Photo: courtesy of Frédéric Lagrange)

I remember the spark in my grandfather’s eyes and his loud laugh as he recounted how the Germans recoiled—and, he said, retreated—when they saw these strong, ferocious Asian men barrelling into the camp. How emotional my grandfather was as he described how the soldiers hugged and embraced each other after being freed. Those Mongol soldiers had saved my grandfather’s life, and ultimately mine as well.

Mongolia always had a very special place in my mind, not only for the beautiful landscape I had seen in photos, but also because I hoped to finally meet those legendary warriors.

I remember arriving in Ulaanbaatar, the Mongolian capital, barely ten years after the break-up of the Soviet 26 Union, and witnessing a nascent democracy that was in the middle of tremendous change. Everywhere in the city—and later I would see throughout the country— were the grey, ominous, Soviet-era buildings.

Photo 1 of 4 A full moon rises over a frozen pond near Buir Lake, Dornod Aimag, in early spring when temperatures are still freezing cold (Photo: courtesy of Frédéric Lagrange)

Photo 2 of 4 A herd of camels graze on the shore of Üüreg Lake, Uvs Aimag (Photo: courtesy of Frédéric Lagrange)

Photo 3 of 4 Yadam, one of the most knowledgeable Tsataan guides, Khosvghol Lake (Photo: courtesy of Frédéric Lagrange)

Photo 4 of 4 A herder drinks tsai, a traditional tea made of milk, water, black tea leaves, and salt (Photo: courtesy of Frédéric Lagrange)

Ulaanbaatar was very different then from it is today. The range of food was very limited, and there were barely any cars—mostly Russian-made and a few Japanese ones; old Tupolev planes connected the few cities around the country for those able to afford a ticket. Life was fascinating to observe.

I stayed in Ulaanbaatar for a few days before deciding to see a different part of the country. I flew west, to a little town called Ulaangom. I explored the town and befriended a few people. I was the only foreigner in sight and no one spoke English, so I used the little Russian I knew to find myself a place to stay, food and transportation.

Then I decided to head to the countryside and see the Mongolia I had come to see. I organised a driver and drove a couple of hours to a beautiful, pristine lake called Üüreg Nuur, right on the Russian border. I pitched my tent close to the local park ranger’s ger, a traditional Mongol yurt, and stayed there for two weeks.

It was incredibly beautiful. I spent my days trekking around the lake, meeting locals, taking photos, making friends, sharing meals of boiled beef or mutton, and drinking tea and vodka. It was everything I had imagined about Mongolia, only better.

The quietness I felt in that valley surrounded by magnificent mountains and pristine nature, the sound of the ducks and swans singing at sunset against the immensity of that landscape: it was incredible. I had never felt such stillness and peace.

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Mongolia’s wild landscape captured through the lens of photographer Frédéric Lagrange