ONEOF THEWORLD'S LAST GREATGRASSLANDS

IS AT THE HEARTOFGENGHIS KHAN'SFORMER EMPIRE—ANDHISMONGOLIAN

DESCENDANTS DREAMOFKEEPING IT THATWAY

BY TIM NEVILLEPHOTOGRAPHS BYROBHOWARD

THE GRASS WARSMongolia is fighting to save itsprairies, some of themost pristineremaining stretches of grassyplains in the world; opposite, anomadic herdsman in full regalia.

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HE RUSSIAN HELICOPTER,a huge Mi-8 with a bee’s eye for a cockpit,climbs through the crisp Mongolian air, andSteve McCormick gazes out a porthole. Farbelow, the slabbybuildings ofUlanBator nestlebeneath the10,000-footKhanKhentiimountains,a sacred range that cradles the city in a verdantpalm. The concrete apartments and crumblingroadsbleed intoa sprawlingsuburbof traditionalfelt tents (calledgers)—wherenomads cling to a

speciousmodernity—and on into open pastures.The grass is precisely the reasonMcCormick is here.As the pres-

identof theNatureConservancy,McCormick, 56, has spent thepastseven years pushing the nonprofit onto a global stagewith an ambi-tiousproject to conserve10percentof theworld’smajorhabitat typesby2015. (McCormickhas since left theNatureConservancy, in late2007.)Grasslands—unlike rainforests—are sorely lackingattention,and according toMcCormickMongolia holds “the last of the leastand the best of the rest” of theworld’s prairies. “They’re absolutelypristine,” he says, “so the opportunities are enormous.”

Thehelicopter climbsovergreen,hummockyridges, and in thedis-tance a razor-thin horizon wheezes under an enormous sky. This isthe start of theEastern Steppe, a downy carpet of crestedwheat andrustling sage that sprouts from rootstock 15,000 years old. A vastmedieval empire grew from these plains, which stretch east formore than1,500miles.Today, the steppe is theworld’s largest intactgrassland; virtually none of it has ever been tilled or fenced.

But the grass here is suffering. For yearsMongolia was an unde-velopedSoviet satellite.Butwith thecollapseof communism, it isnowopen for business, and the result isn’t pretty.Overgrazing, desertifi-cation, andminingandoil exploration threaten the steppe,whichhasdeclined from575,000contiguous squaremiles (slightly smaller thanAlaska) centuries ago to less than 100,000 contiguous squaremiles

today.Nomads are caught in themiddle, abandoning their herds forthe city. “Mongolians aredeeplyproudof their heritage,” saysChrisPague, a Nature Conservancy senior conservation ecologist on thetrip. “Theywant to keep nomads doingwhat nomads do.”

Problem is, conservation takesmoney andMongolia has little ofit. Much to McCormick’s delight, the Mongolian prime ministerphonedhima fewyearsagoasking forhis agency’shelp in findingcre-ativeways toconserve thecountry’s grasslandswithoutgarrotingeco-nomicdevelopment. Itwas a call that eventually landedhimhere, inthe belly of this giant rattling machine, along with six adventurousphilanthropists.Thereare twoHongKong real estatebaronesses, thefounderand retiredCEOofCircuitCity andhiswife (a lovelyBroad-way playwright), diplomat Frank Loy, and aUtah nursewith a fineinheritance,$5millionofwhichshehasdonated tootherConservancyprojects.Thehope is that after an exclusive,weeklong romp throughMongolia’s vast landscape, these travelerswill be inspired todonateuntoldmillions toward kick-starting the new grassland project.

“Mongolia has the typeof untouchednature thatweyearn for intheWest,”McCormick says. “The question now is,Will they learnfrom ourmistakes?”

TheMi-8descendsover agrassyknoll studdedwithgranite crags.Throughmyporthole, I see the faintwhite dots of ager campamongthewillows. Beyond that, I see themost beautiful kind of nothing.

MONGOLIA IS ONE OF THE MOST INTRIGUINGdestinations for adventure travelers today, and its popularity isexploding.Only137,000visitors came toMongolia in2000;by2006that figure hadnearly tripled. “Onaworld scale, that’s not verybig,”says Badral Yondon, of Nomadic Expeditions, the country’s pre-mier outfitter. Indeed, Mongolia sees about as many visitors in ayear as Disney World’s Magic Kingdom does in a week; isolationis a big part of the country’s appeal.

The fact that anyone is coming toMongolia at allwould shock thebejesus out of themillions of peoplewhowere alive during theMid-

MONGOLCOWBOYSFrom left, a face on the steppe;McCormick (center) discusses theNature Conservancy’s Plans; oppo-site, a lone ranger.

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jargal, a park biologist who, likemostMongolians, goesbyonename.His means “increasingly happy.”

“Look, there!”Mr.Happier says,pointing to a hillside pepperedwithstubby dun horses bearing whitebellies.TheyarePrzewalski’s horses,a breed that roamed theplainswhenthe great khans’ cavalries were attheir strongest. Mongolians callthem takhi,or spirits. “This is oneofthree placeswhere you can see themin their environment,”Usukhjargalsays. “Theywent extinct in thewild,butwe reintroduced15here in1992.Now there are 200.”

Before long, dusk seeps into aperiwinkle sky andwe return to camp, a collection of about 30 gerswithbrightorangebagana,or supportbeams,holdingupcircular feltwalls andsmallwoodendoors that face south forwarmth. Inside eachis a comfortable bed surroundedbyahearth anda tablewith a ther-mosofwater. It doesn’t seem likemuch, butouthere it’s pure luxury.Prince Philip has stayed here.

After ameal of succulent meatballs and a big glass of Bordeaux,I headoff tobed.The summernight is nowso crisp that I can seemybreath curling toward the hint of a chalkymoon.When I pushopenthe door ofmy ger, a blast of heat from the hearthwhacksme hard.I crumpleontoa thickcamel’s-woolblanket sowarmandsnuggly thatI have little doubt why theMongols fathered somany children.

THENEXTMORNINGTHEMONGOLGODOFTHEEternal Blue Sky returns, and we hear the helicopter long before itarrives.We loadup,andErdenee,ourpilot,plotsa smoothcourseeast,backoverUlanBator andalong theTuulRiver.Reddeer andhorses

THESENSATIONOF BEINGSO FARREMOVEDFROM THEWORLDWHILE BEINGSWADDLEDIN ITSEMBRACE ISEXHILA-RATING.

dle Ages. In those days,Mongolia was ex tartarus, a region of hell.It all began in the late12thcentury,whenTemujin—an illiterategeniuswhogrewtobeGenghisKhan—consolidatedscoresofnomadic tribesinto a disciplined army that poured from the plains like a plague oflocusts.Lightandnimble, theMongolwarriors rodesmallhorsesstand-ingupandused their longbows to easily skewer sluggishknightsbur-dened with heavy plate mail. As the armies sacked Khwarizm,burned Baghdad andKiev, and pushed into Poland, they sentmobsof terrified refugees fleeing to the next kingdom.

“In25years theMongol army subjugatedmore lands andpeoplethan theRomans conquered in400years,”writes JackWeatherfordinGenghisKhan and theMakingof theModernWorld.Though theycartedoff sapphires, brocade, andprincesses galore, tonomadicwar-riors themost useful booty of all was the grassland they gained.

Likemost journeys toMongolia,our tripbegins in thecapital,whereImeetupwith thegroupat the country’sonly five-starhotel.Outside,the streets are slickwith summer rain, and leatherymenwander by,peddling cigarettes.Home to onemillion of the country’s threemil-lionpeople,UlanBator is a citybuilt by thosewho largelydidn’t needone,which helps explainwhy it feels like a concrete ache on the vel-vety skinofMongolia.Buildings areuninspiredhulksof cement, andthickclotsofbusesandtruckscongealat intersections.Thoughfriendlyandsafeandmind-boggling inpockets (until recently,peoplestill slaugh-tered sheep in their apartments), it is a city best left quickly.

Except for a couple of town streets and one highway,Mongoliahas few paved roads. So when badweather grounds our flight, weroll out across the open landscape in Land Cruisers for HustaiNational Park, a reserve of birch trees and wild horses, two hourswest of the city. On the way, Bactrian camels lumber across moistswales covered in stubby green grass, and the scent of wild onionswafts through thewindows. It’smidafternoonand still cloudyby thetime we roll into Hustai, a 193-square-mile park of steep hills andopen plains surrounded by a 1,150-square-mile buffer zone. Anx-ious to stretchour legs,we immediately set out for ahikewithUsukh-

GER-TO-GERNETWORKINGFrom left, two herdsmanat anadamfestival; McCormickandHamidSardar-Afkhami in tent-front discus-sions; a localMongol

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SIMPLE EXTRAVAGANCEBuddhism has flourished likethewild grass of Mongolia’s frontiers;opposite, the rich interiors of ThreeCamels’ gersmay not be traditional,but they’re nice to come home toafter a day in the desert.

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run along ridges and valleys that drift into plains so big andperfect-looking that they could beOlanMills backdrops.Out the portholeI see theWindHorseger camp, tuckedon the riverbanks a fewhoursoutside the city.Herewe plan tomeet some of the country’s leadingconservationists, ridehorses, and lob lures into the river for lennock.

Whenwe step fromthehelicopter, amanwithadeeplyweatheredfaceandanorangesash fastenedaroundhiswaistapproachesus.Deni-ijuu, 65, reaches into the folds of his flowing del to produce asmoothglass bottlewith aheavy jade stopper. It’s snuff, andofferingit is a formal greeting. IreneWurtzel, theplaywrightwhoseworkhasappeared on stages fromBroadway to Europe, accidentally inhalesway toomuch. “I think I just cleared out my sinuses,” she says, thebrown powder dusting her cheek.

Hamid Sardar-Afkhami, the camp’s dapper 42-year-old owner,emerges froma gerdressed in jeans and a button-up shirt.His voiceisdeepandmelodicandspicedwithatingeof learnedaristocracy.“Wel-come,” he says. “Please, joinme.”

As a young lady uncorks bottles ofMouton Cadet, we sit in theshade of awillow tree andnibble strong cheese andhard biscuits. Asuccessful filmmakerwith aHarvardPh.D.,Hamidgrewup in Iran,wherehis family and theShahwere“close friends.”Henowsplits histime between Paris and this camp of a dozen gers,where he breedshorses, leadspack trips, andarrangesworkshopson issues that affectMongolia.He slips so easily between English, French, andMongo-lian that I can’t help but ask howmany languages he knows.

“Youmean living ones?” he replies, and I leave it at that.About adozen scholars, activists, and scientists arrive, and for the

next fewhoursMcCormickand the groupquiz themonMongolia’senvironment. I findout that a gazelle eats on themoveandwill roam15,000 square miles of steppe a year—more than two Serengetis.

Munkhbayar,anactivist, sayshe’s closed35minespoisoningtheOnggiRiverandbeenshotat37 times in theprocess.And theheadofa16th-centuryBuddhistmonastery is especially insighful. “Everythinghasa center of energy,” saysBasansuren, abbotofErdenezuu.“Ina riverit’s fish; in grasslands, the roots. I tell people that if you harmnature, itwill fight back.They listen tomonksbetter than rangers.”

McCormickrocksgently inachair, restinghischinonhishandwhilehe studies the group.He is tall with a thin frame.When it’s his turn,his voice is calmand robust, and he’s eloquent aboutwhat he hopestheNature Conservancy can accomplish inMongolia.

“Wedon’twant to stopdevelopmentbecause thatwouldbeunfairto a country that desperately needs jobs,” he says. Instead, the ideais to findareas thatare sensitive todevelopmentor important toherds-menandcreateconservationzones forhealthygrasslands.Someregionswouldbeoff-limits toeveryone;otherswouldgo tominingand indus-try. In between would be a wide range of buffer zones and reservesto keep development frompushing conservation efforts to themar-gins—themistakewe’vemade in theWest, according toMcCormick.“Weneed tomove from thinking about protecting lands andwatersfrom people, to conserving those resources for people,” he says.

As themeetingwindsdown, Inoticehorsemengathering intheDendValley, apoolof richgreensandcaramelbrowns that flows fromcamplikemelted crayons.Oldermenwithpointy-tipboots, felt trilbyhats,and saffron delswander up from god knowswhere. Young boys inyellow jerseys dangle from their galloping steeds to pick up uurgas,or lassos on sticks. It’s the start of a small-scalenadam,awildly pop-ular sporting festival of archery, horsemanship, andwrestling.

Hamid hands me the reins to a brown gelding, and I trot acrossthe valley towatch. I’m riding ahorse inMongolia! I think tomyselfgiddily. Butmy fantasies of thundering across the steppe like a greatkhan come to a humiliating endwhenmy hat blows to the ground,forcing me to dismount and retrieve it. “I’d have a hard time beingaMongoliantoo,”saysMcCormick.“All thatwrestling? I’dgetkilled.”

For thenext fewhours,wewatchashorses come screamingby ina race that traditionally spans17miles. Someriders sing songs to spuron theirmounts.Acompetitorwithamartini-print shirt picksup themost lasso-sticks to win that event. In the end, no one can matchOtgonbaatar—“Little Hero”—who takes the winner’s purse of50,000 tögrögs (about $40), almost an averageweek’s pay.

“Whatwill youdowith it?” I ask, ashe splashesairaig, fermentedmare’s milk, on his stallion as a blessing.

“I’ll give it tomy parents,” says the hero, who is 12 but looks 8.“No, hewon’t,” jokes a friend. “He’ll buy booze!”“And cigarettes!” shouts another, and everyone laughs. The

nearest place to buy anything at all is an hour away by helicopter.

DISTANCES DON’T MEAN MUCH ON THE STEPPE,where few thingsbeginandnothing really ends.Askanomad,“Howfar?” and he points. A bent fingermeans nearby. Straight and rigid:It could takeweeks to get there. For thousandsof squaremiles noth-ingrisesmorethan900feet,andtheemptinesscantrickyou.Thesilenceis so complete I twice try to popmy ears, thinking they’re clogged.

The helicopter takes off the next day fromHamid’s, andwe soareast over rivers and sloughs,watching the sky ironwrinkles fromtheland.After twohours,weplopdownon the steppenearChoibalsan,in far easternMongolia.Heatwaves ripple across the horizon like astampede, and a herdsmanwanders up—his ger is just a bent fingeraway.Wehop intoLandCruisers, driven for theoccasion fromUlanBator, andonceagainwe’reon thehighwayofGoWhereYouPlease.

“Look for dots,” says Susan Antenen, a conservation scien-tist, as we jump out somewhere in Toson

CAMEL UNFILTEREDMcCormick (opposite) and theNature Conservancy hope to pre-serveMongolia’s immense spacesand nomadic culture.

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ACCESSMost flights from theU.S. toMongolia(which start around$1,500) pass throughBeijing or Seoul. Ifyou’re transferringthroughBeijing, you’llneedadouble-entryChinese visa—even ifyou never leave theairport. Companieslike Travel Docu-ments (traveldocs.com) canhelp ifyou can’t take yourpassport to theChi-nese consulate your-self: nomailing it in.> If you’re goingthroughBeijing, it’sworth spendingafewextradays in theChinese capital tohelp kick the jetlag.ChinaDelight (chi-nadelight.com) canarrange for airporttransfers, bookhotels, andorganizeaday trip to theMutianyu section oftheGreatWall, twohours outside thecity. The PeninsulaHotel (beijing.penin-sula.com),which iswithinwalkingdis-tanceof TianamenSquareand the For-biddenCity, is agreat spot to unwind,with a restaurant thatserves a hugebreak-fast buffet andexcel-lent Pekingduck.

LODGINGTheUlaanbataarHotel (ubhotel.mn) isMongolia’s only five-

star hotel—thoughyou’ll quickly realizethe star-scale is asubjectivemeasure.Located right in theheart of downtown,the hotel has large,airy roomswith adis-tinct Soviet feel tothem-—sparsely dec-oratedwith heavyfurniture—that arecleanandcomfort-ableandby far thebest in the country.

SUSTENANCEA fewyears ago,therewere less thanfive international-caliber restaurants inUlan Bator, andmostof them served leath-erymutton. Today,theMongol capitalhas a finearray ofFrench, Italian,Ger-man, andKoreanrestaurants, aswellas American-stylesports bars. OutsideUlan Bator you’reconfined togercampsand thegoodwill of nomads.> For excellentKoreanbarbecue,wheremarinatedchunks ofmeat arecookedover coalsat your table, headto Seoul, off ChinggisAvenue in the southof Nairamdal Park.

ATTRACTIONS> Thenadaam festi-val in Ulan Bator isthe sportingevent inMongolia andgen-erates asmuchexcitement as, say,the Super Bowl in theU.S. Heldannually inmidsummer (July 10-11, 2008), the twodays of high-pageantry horseracing, archery, andwrestlingarewell

worth planningavisit around.> TheNatural HistoryMuseum in UlanBatormight notseem likemuch, untilyou see theworld’sfinest dinosaur fossils.Don’tmiss the fight-ingdinosaurs: theskeletal remains oftwobeasts caught inmortal combat byasandstorm.> The 100-mile-longLake Khösvsgöl, inthe northwest cornerof the country, isAsia’s deepest lakeandcontains 2 per-cent of theworld’sfreshwater reserve.BoojumExpeditions(boojum.com)offerstrips to the lake, com-binedwith a horsetrek across thenearby steppe.> In theAltaiMoun-tains near Kaza-khstan, nomadsstill practice thecenturies-old sportof huntingwitheagles and falcons.Thepractice onlytakes place inwinter,when rabbits, fox,andwolves have thetheir thickest pelts. It’sa frigid—andbeauti-ful—time to visit, andhearty travelerswillwitnessMongolia inDecember, some-thingwill never expe-rience. —T.N.

TRIPNOTESMON-GOLIANPLAINS

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For a more photosand a traveler’s guideto Mongolia, visitoutsidego.com.

HustaiNatureReserve. “They’re gazelles.”Sure enough,we see them,herds perhaps a thousand strong,moving slowly across the plains.

At1,800 squaremiles,TosonHustai is half the sizeofYellowstoneand frequentedby someofAsia’s last nomadic gazelles,which cometo calve among the spear grass andmillet. The region is alsohome toabout 140 families of herders. The Conservancy hopes this couldbecome a flagship park; with management, the area could balancenomadic grazing landwith conservation.The lawsaremostly on thebooks to protect the area, but enforcing them is anothermatter.

“Just twodays ago I spotted a guypoaching gazelles, but I could-n’t catchhim,”Amar, the park’s lone ranger, tellsme. “Theyused tobe on horses. Now they have cars andmotorcycles. I have amotor-cycle but no gas.”

We round a hill to find tents, our home for the evening, set up inthegrass.McCormickgoeswitha fewguests to search foreagles,whileI wander out for a hike. After what feels like hours, the tents finallyblend into the steppe, and I lie onmyback in a patch of needle-and-thread grass and count puffball clouds hanging in the cerulean sky.

Out here I feelmore like a dot than I ever have on anymountain-toporopensea.The sensationofbeing so far removed fromtheworldwhile being swaddled in its silky embrace is inexplicably exhilarat-ing. It’smore exciting than riding in theMi-8as gazelles springacrossthegrass. ItbeatsgallopingonhorsesatHamid’s. It’s evenmore inspir-ing than theprospect ofmeetingMongolia’s president in a fewdays,whenhewill offerus teaandcheese curds ina splendid roomofwhiteleather couches. A fewmonths later, the travelers will make signifi-cant contributions,which,whencombinedwithotherdonations,willallow theNature Conservancy to open offices inMongolia.

“There’s no doubt development will come,” Wurtzel, the play-wright, tells me as we walk through the grass. “I think we all hopethat whatmakes this country so uniquewon’t be lost.”

On our last night, it becomes clear what’s in danger. It’s not justthe steppeandthegazelles,or thehorsesandthegloryofGenghis that’sat stake; it’s thepeople, these timeless“barbarians”whosebrushwithEurope in the14th centuryarguablybrought about theRenaissance.The earth under their feet is asmuch their family as it is their home.

ThateveningourMongolianguides showushospitalityunlikeany-thingI’veeverexperienced.Thecooks loadourtablewithroastedchick-ens,dried sausages, andgreen salads.TheKharkorumbeer flowsuntilsomeoneopensabottleofMongolianvodka.Then, the singingbegins.

Each of our guides takes a turn belting a few lines before the restchime in. Everyoneknowsall of thewords, just as theyhave for cen-turies.Their rich voices blend intoonebaritone thatwafts across thegrasslands.Themelodiesarehauntingandgorgeous, and Ibegaguideto translate.They singofbirds andhorses and sage-queenprincesses.

Elbegdorj, a rotund guide in a trilby hat, stands for his turn.Theflowergrows in themoonlight,andIwill rememberyourwind-

burned face.Outside, the stars have splattered purple light across the steppe.Thewhitemoonof theeastwill sing theentirenight, andI,mydear,

will stay with you my whole life.Elbegdorj looks at no one. He is singing for the grass. GO MAPBYJOYCEPENDOLA

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