Travel

During my travels I have marvelled at the big skies over the Masai Mara in East Africa, the pampas in Argentina and the plains of Texas. And yet none of these can compare with the vaulting of blue over the boundless steppes of Mongolia, that Alaska-sized country between Russia and China from which, eight centuries ago, Genghis Khan and his fierce warriors rode out to forge the largest land empire in history.

Since ancient times, Mongolians have called their land Khukh Mongol – Blue Mongolia –after the bright sky above the high plateau that comprises almost 80 per cent of the country. At dawn, women emerge from their nomadic dwellings – domed gers, better known as yurts in the West – to fling freshly brewed tea with milk to the heavens in reverence to their sky.

I got my first look at the eternal blue sky and the horses of the Mongolian steppes as I drove towards the Orkhon Valley after a visit to reindeer country up on the Siberian frontier. The rolling grasslands stretch as far as the eye can see. In the distance were a solitary ger and a lone horseman, riding straight and tall in the saddle – the Mongolians are arguably the best horsemen on the planet. In my mind’s eye I could see the conquering hordes of Genghis Khan gathering to gallop westward into Europe and south into China and the Near East.

This is the most sparsely populated country on Earth, and has more horses than humans: an estimated five million equine inhabitants, averaging nearly two for every man, woman and child. Around 40 per cent of the country’s population lives a nomadic life, and a family group may have anything up to 100 horses. Mongolians use their horses for herding livestock and for transporting their gers in traditional migrations across the steppes.

Today’s Mongolian horses, like many others, are descended from the Takh, which is one of the world’s six original species of prehistoric horses that once roamed free in vast numbers across the steppes. The Takh, with zebra-like characteristics, is better known in the West as Przewalski’s Horse after the Russian who ‘discovered’ it early in the early 20th century and began capturing foals for Western zoos. The species in the wild died out completely in the 1960s, but has now been reintroduced from zoos into well-protected reserves in Mongolia.

My interest in horses and polo is what took me to the Orkhon Valley. There is no evidence that polo was played in Mongolia in antiquity, although descendants of Genghis Khan were key players in the spread of this 3,000-year-old game. During the Mogul conquests of the 16th century, the warriors took polo from Persia to the Indian subcontinent, where the English first learned to play in the 19th century before taking the game around the world.

It was an Englishman, Jim Edwards, who introduced modern polo to Mongolia in 1997. Since then the game has been growing in popularity, and looks to becoming a national pastime like wrestling, archery and chess.

One sees wrestling everywhere, not just at big festivals between Olympic contenders but daily as young lads take a break for impromptu matches. And archery competitions, for both men and women, are held frequently all across the country. The distinctive and powerful Mongolian bow can be fired on foot or from horseback and this deadly shot was the main weapon in Ghengis Khan’s historic arsenal.

Chess provides the evening’s entertainment for nomadic families, and both young and old are expert and avid players. One day, when we had stopped for tea on the road, a strapping Mongolian rider galloped menacingly up to our van. A brigand? No. He jumped off his horse, pulled a chess set from his saddlebags and challenged me to a game on the spot.

My first experience of riding the nomads’ horses – and playing their rough-and-ready style of polo – came when I reached the ger encampment of Christoph Giercke in the Orkhon Valley. Christoph, a German film-maker who married a Mongolian princess, Enkhe,

Material difference (previous page, left) The entrances to these nomadic dwellings, known as gers, are always colourfully decorated

Warrior spirit (previous page, right) A Mongolian player stands tall in his replica Ghengis Khan ensemble – worn over contemporary polo kit

Not-so-easy rider (below) The terrain is rough and the saddles – made of wood with a high front and back – are distinctly uncomfortable for Westerners

Talking tactics (right) Ghengis Kahn Polo Club players relax before a tournament out on the steppes

founded the Chinggis Khaan Polo Club in 1998, and since then has helped organise polo in the country, including the annual national polo championships that took place while I was there.

Mongolian horses are small animals, just 12.2 hands high on average, which is similar in size to polo ponies in the early days of the game. They are sturdy mounts with short legs, a large head, robust hooves (relatively few are shod) and immense strength and endurance. They’re a far cry from the polished polo ponies of 15 hands or so that I’m accustomed to riding on Terry Hanlon’s ground back in England.

The tack used by the Mongolian herdsmen is vastly different from ours too. The traditional saddle is of wood with a high front and back, impossibly uncomfortable to a Westerner. The stirrups are worn short, with a strap below the horse’s belly keeping them close in to the flanks, allowing the rider to bend out at almost right angles to his mount – what I call a Frank Lloyd Wright cantilever arrangement.

I opted for a Western-style saddle and tack, and once aboard realised just how perfect these little horses can be for polo. They are docile, responsive, enormously hardy, quick to learn, and great fun to play. Given their size, your stick is likely to be a 42 rather than a 52.

Owing to the flat grasslands of the steppes, creating a polo ground – or even hundreds of grounds – presents no problems for the Mongolians at their present state of play: just goalposts and some colourful flags to mark out the boundaries. They will laugh at you if you suggest removing the rocks or flattening the bumps. It’s a rough old game out here.

Frenchman Franck Dubarry, president of TechnoMarine watches, was also at the Orkhon encampment. He had brought the first fully constituted international team to Mongolia to play the locals and teach them more about how polo is played in other countries. The TechnoMarine team was comprised of Franck and three Argentine professionals: Alejandro Novillo Astrada, Mariano Aguerre and Juan Cruz Diaz.

I refereed games between the visitors and their hosts, and Franck’s pros held polo clinics for the Mongolians. The Argentines also trained up a few of the nomads’ horses as proper polo ponies; a quick and easy task with these clever little animals. Subsequently Franck generously treated a 19-year-old Mongolian player, Bashi, to three months polo training on the Argentine estancia of Martin Garrahan.

‘Mongolia is great for taking advantage of lands as yet untouched by mankind,’ Franck said. ‘There is a fantastic feeling of escape and adventure in a very safe environment. Polo here lacks the sophistication with which it is played under rules in the rest of the world, but the Mongolians are amazing riders and are naturally skilled. We should all promote the growth of the modern sport here by helping young Mongolian players, offering them free training at top polo centres in other countries so they in turn can teach their fellow countrymen about out sport.’

I was delighted to find, when I revisited Mongolia this summer, that polo had a central role in the 800th anniversary celebrations of the country’s nationhood. Our sport has a great future here – if we in the more established polo-playing countries lend a hand. More Mongolian dreams French photographer Michel Setboun’s brilliant new coffee table book, Mongolie, Rêve d’infini, was published earlier this year by Editions de la Martinière and is available from www.Amazon.fr at around EUR 30.

If you are interested in sponsoring a Mongolian polo player, contact hurlingham@hpa-polo.co.uk

Local colour (above) Bashi, a young Mongolian player, is given Western polo saddles. Later he was offered the chance to train in Argentina