Watching polo players thundering across a field against the lush backdrop of the rolling hills of Mongolia’s spectacular Orkhon River Valley, it is easy to imagine that Genghis Khan’s fearsome warrior cavalry had once raised clouds of swirling dust on these same plains. In their case, the ball could well have been an enemy’s head.

Even now, people continue to lose their heads, and hearts, to the sport.

Lifestyle retailer Shanghai Tang’s executive chairman Raphael le Masne de Chermont picked it up when he was 14, had his face smashed in by a mallet at 16, and is now giving pointers to his teenage son.

His passion for the sport has led to the brand supporting the revival of polo in Mongolia by contributing proceeds from sales of the Shanghai Tang Genghis Khan polo shirts as well as presenting the Shanghai Tang Polo Cup. Hence this reporter’s trip to Mongolia, sponsored by the Hong Kong-based label.

Last month, the Mongolians beat the international team of invited players, including some from the Singapore Polo Club, to gallop away with the trophy.

It was the crowning event of what was billed as the first international polo naadam. The term naadam refers to a festival and traditionally comprises the “three manly games” of wrestling, archery and horse racing. The biggest one takes place in Ulan Bator in July each year.

Mr Le Masne de Chermont works closely with German-born film producer and cashmere businessman Christopher Giercke, who in 1998 founded the Genghis Khan Polo & Riding Club, the venue of the polo cup.

Giercke claims to have re-introduced the equestrian sport back to the land which, along with Iran and India, is a contender for the birthplace of polo.

The club sits on pristine land leased from the national park property. It is located 360km west of the capital city Ulan Bator and is accessible by road, private plane or helicopter. For those who want to get away from it all, and do it in style, the club is certainly an off-the-beaten-track option.

Because of the remoteness of the area and the surrounding hills, there is no telecommunications reception. Bye, bye, Internet and text messages. Any communing here is with nature.

A visitor from the urban, cosmopolitan city of Singapore will find living in a ger, or yurt, a definite experience. There is no electricity, no running water but there is a wood-burning stove with a smoke stack poking through the top of the tent. And you have to stumble down the hillside by moonlight to get to the outhouse, which is a loo with a view by day and a slightly tricky proposition by night.

What you get in return for any minor inconveniences are dazzling vistas of a river wending its way through the grassy plains, fresh alpine air and a chance to gallop through those picturesque views. It is a thrill just to watch the majestic kites in flight, wings still and outstretched to ride an updraft.

The club has trainers available for activities such as riding, polo, archery and fishing, and it can also organise horse treks to explore nearby lakes and hot springs.

I probably should have gone for a refresher course in riding before galloping, okay cantering, along the river bank and ending up with chafed skin.

In keeping with the ecologically respectful ethos of the club, the polo and riding horses are domesticated, but they are free to roam each night instead of being tethered in stables. Also, there are no fixed buildings, roads, fences or electricity lines.

Summer is the best season to visit, weather-wise. Even then, there is a wide range in temperatures going from blazing hot during the day to winter-jacket cold at night. Once the season is over, the entire camp gets torn down and not a trace of human activity remains.

Which is not to say that guests are expected to rough it out entirely. Entering the large dining ger, one is greeted by the sight of a baby grand piano, trucked in over the grassy plains and then tenderly attended to by a piano tuner. There are also massage and bath gers, where one can be pampered after a long day of physical exertion.

There were pleasant surprises on the culinary front too, with chef Enkhee whipping up fusion dishes such as mutton paella and mushroom risotto. It was also a bit of a relief since traditional Mongolian foods such as the slightly tart airag (fermented horse milk), the buttery clotted cream and the rock-hard cheese are definitely an acquired taste.

For those keen on a glimpse of Mongolia’s rich past, the ancient capital of Karakorum is an hour’s drive, on a bumpy road, from the club. There are several accommodation options here ranging from hotels to ger-type camping. The Lonely Planet website has a listing, though none of the places appear to have its own website.

The major attraction in town is Erdene Zuu, probably the oldest surviving Buddhist monastery in Mongolia. It was built in 1585, escaped destruction under communist rule and is an active place of worship today.

The Hambo Lama (head lama) here is just 33 and he wants to see the faith grow in the decades to come. Buddhism is a calling for the man whose grandfather was a monk. He remembers visiting Erdene Zuu as a young boy: “It felt good, that this was my place.”

The faith has deep roots in the country and is closely linked to Tibetan Buddhism. This can be seen in the architecture, including in details such as the ubiquity of prayer wheels, and in certain practices, such as prostration, where devotees get down on their knees before lying flat on the ground with arms outstretched.

At the Gandantegchinlen monastery complex in Ulan Bator, there are boards in front of the stupas and shrines for monks and devotees alike to purify themselves through that humbling physical act. As a concession to age and inexperience, boards for the old and for novices are tilted upward at an angle.

Improbably, the capital city is also home to a Louis Vuitton store. The luxury label’s appearance raised eyebrows in a country where incomes are still relatively low though some have embraced it as a symbol of how far Mongolia has come.

For a visitor though, its presence adds little charm to the ramshackle construction boomtown and its traffic snarls. After less than a day here, the wide open plains of Orkhon Valley glisten more enchantingly than ever.

(ST)