Tree Planting in Mongolia: The People and Patience Behind the Work
Mongolia is a country of striking contrasts: open steppe, desert landscapes and forested mountains. Trees grow slowly here, and planting a seedling is only the beginning. It takes patience, local knowledge and years of care to give a young tree the chance to take root.
That is one reason I have always been drawn to the tree-planting projects we visit. They are about more than putting trees in the ground. They are built on the determination of people who care deeply about the places they call home.
Gobi Oasis: remembering every tree
Gobi Oasis is in Mandalgovi, the provincial town of Dundgovi. It was established in 1975 by Byamba Tseyen, a forester whose life’s work has been helping trees grow in a place where the climate makes that far from easy. She has trained students and forestry workers, welcomed visitors to the nursery and shared her knowledge with people from Mongolia and beyond.
Turuu and I first visited Gobi Oasis in 2011. Since then, it has become a meaningful stop on some of our journeys through the Gobi. Guests can plant a native sapling, and our visits help support the nursery’s work.
Many of our guests plant Siberian elm, a hardy tree suited to Mongolia’s cold, dry conditions. The nursery also grows saxaul, a characteristic plant of the Gobi. It is a reminder that planting here is not simply about choosing a tree and putting it in the ground; the species and the place both matter.
There is a book at Gobi Oasis where each visitor who plants a tree is recorded. Byamba remembers people’s names and, wonderfully, the place where they planted. She can return to check how each tree is doing.
Some saplings are eaten by deer or rabbits. If that happens, another is planted in its place. It is such a simple detail, but it says a lot about the work: planting is not treated as a one-off event. Someone keeps noticing, checking and caring.
Turuu and I planted our own saplings in 2011. When we returned in 2016, they had grown. I still love looking at those photographs and seeing the change—not dramatic or overnight, but real.
Gobi Burd: planting in the South Gobi
Another project we can visit is Gobi Burd, an agro-afforestation initiative in Dalanzadgad. Launched in 2023, it is connected with Mongolia’s wider One Billion Trees movement. Its plans include a large area of planting—an ambitious undertaking in a region where growing and caring for trees takes knowledge, time and ongoing attention.
We make Gobi Burd a possible stop on the journey to or from Dalanzadgad. When planting activities are available and the timing works, guests may have the opportunity to take part. A visit also offers a different way to understand life in the South Gobi: the work people are doing with the land, the challenges of growing things in a dry environment, and the hopes they have for the future of their region.
It adds another layer to a journey through the Gobi. We are not only passing through a landscape; we can pause and meet people who are working with it.
World Garden Mongolia: determination and remembrance
World Garden Mongolia deserves a mention for the human determination behind it. Its founder, Dulamjav, wanted to create something in memory of his mother after she died. That idea grew into a project focused on restoring forest and encouraging people to take action for Mongolia’s environment.
I find that starting point moving: a personal loss becoming a commitment to a place and to its future. Tree planting can sound like a simple solution, but the work behind it is not simple at all. It takes people willing to keep going, year after year.
World Garden Mongolia’s current main project is on Bayanzurkh Mountain, on the eastern edge of Ulaanbaatar. The team has carefully planted and looked after 13,000 trees there—a level of ongoing care that matters, because seedlings can be neglected and planting is not always done with the skills young trees need. Bayanzurkh was once almost entirely covered in its native larch forest, until the landscape changed around 1989. As Ulaanbaatar grew and pressure on local resources increased, heavy cattle drives and forest fires made it harder for the forest to return naturally. Larch is one of the trees that gives Mongolia’s northern landscapes their character, alongside pine, birch and poplar, as the boreal forests of Siberia reach into the country.
Tujiin Nars: looking out across the canopy
I visited Tujiin Nars with Turuu. This protected pine forest in Selenge Province covers around 8,961 hectares. It was badly affected by illegal logging in the 1990s, and gained protected status in 2003. The recovery work there has taken sustained effort from people and communities determined to help the forest grow back.
I found the visit deeply inspiring. Standing at the viewpoint and looking out over the tree canopy, I was struck by what human endeavour can help make possible—not quickly, and not by one person alone, but through many people working with patience and purpose over time.
It is easy to talk about planting trees. It is more meaningful to see the landscape, meet the people involved and understand the care that recovery asks of them.
The work continues
The projects we visit are different from one another, but they share something important: people are paying attention. They know their landscapes, they know what grows there, and they understand that planting is only one part of the work.
At Gobi Oasis, Byamba’s book keeps track of the people and trees connected to the nursery. At Gobi Burd, visitors can learn about an agro-afforestation initiative taking shape in the South Gobi. At Tujiin Nars, the view across the canopy reflects years of determined effort. And World Garden Mongolia grew from one person’s wish to remember his mother by creating something for others.
These stories stay with me. They remind me that meaningful change is rarely instant or tidy. Often, it begins with one person deciding to care—and continues because other people choose to care too.
Jess @ Eternal Landscapes
