Here at PG2010 we're quite old school with our equipment not helped by the fact that we have had as much support from golf companies as Obama would get in the deep south.
So here is a wee equipment review of my favourite club - the trusty 2 iron. These things were rarer than hens teeth in the US but over here in the UK they are not quite so foreign... I find my 2 iron useful for the obvious reasons such as hitting the ball low off the tee and snaking it up on the firm par fives, but also the less obvious reasons such as putting when my putter is misbehaving (eg on day 12 at Centenniel) and for playing a spot of tee hockey when waiting for the group ahead to clear.
This particular 2 iron was found in a golf club bin at the Garden City Golf Driving range in Harewood about a decade ago. But it was the kind of bin that was shortly to be emptied at the dump. I not only was kind enough to rescue my trusted friend from the scrap heap but also made a donation of NZ$20 to Garden City Golf for doing so. Prosimmon is the brand for what that's worth but they're all the same aren't they?
The other feature of my 2 iron that has not been captured is the grip peeling away at the top of the club exposing some chards of metal which may eventually give me tetanus.
The new set of blades I got included a 2 iron but it's just not quite the same - and it's far too shiny. Phil Tataurangi being the generous legend that he is also gave me a 2 iron to try out but it's a cavity back number which goes high up into the wind and again it's just not quite the same...
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Also, an equipment review of the titliest prov1x golf ball kindly given to us from our famous day at Winged Foot. This ball is one of those rare breeds that has lasted four entire rounds around the links without being lost. But as is always the way, as soon as it was photographed it got all clucky and started to misbehave and is now deeply entrenched in a gorse bush somewhere. Karma.
Last night we stayed in a house that was built in 1780-something. An old house. But it was particularly cosy & we had a great time meeting our hosts, Shelia & Richard Evans and their son John. The Evans are on a farm outside of Auchtemuchty a name a of township in Fife that I could say all day long despite my awefully kiwi accent not working too well with these Scottish place names.
After a lie in until around 11am and a time to catch up on blogging duties, we headed out to our course for the day - Ladybank.
Ladybank is a parkland course set amongst pine trees and heather. It is quite similar in character to courses back in NZ with similar turf and routing through the trees. There are plenty of dog-legs and playing off the general tees we regularly needed to hit mid irons off the tee. If I may share with you a gripe of mine that we are generally not allowed to play off the back tees here in Scotland and are often left playing what could be a difficult golf course, off tees which were put in place before steel shafts were invented. I can understand the rationale of courses that they want to keep the pace of play up, but when your constantly playing 4 iron 9 iron into par fours you don't see the beauty of some of these courses.
That said, Ladybank was a good test because if you go astray you're in serious trouble. Starting on the second hole which was just like being back home with pine trees on the right along a fence line and an incredibly narrow landing area. Generally off the fairways here is not only trees but heather which grabs your ball & if you're lucky enough to find it you're pushing your luck to get it out. I wish I had video'd my efforts on 12 where after 3 futile efforts to hack the ball out I was more than a little flustered & finally took my medicine and chipped out.
The match of the day was a four ball with myself and the crafty Richard taking on the young bucks JP and John. There were a few shots flying around but it was on the stroke one handicap hole, the 9th where things got interesting as everyone made a par 4. A win to the good guys courtesy of Richard's two shots!! Unfortunately our run did not continue and we came up just short on the last hole.
There are some bomb craters in the terrain at Ladybank - I don't recall how they got there but, being the random kiwi punters that we are we re-enacted what would happen if it came mid swing:
Have a look at some of the photographs from Ladybank below, it is a strong track (off the tips anyway) and home to the final stage of the Open Qualifying which puts it in a revered standing over here. Re our scores, I am in the process of putting them all up on the stats link at the top of the screen - so stay tuned for this addition to the site! Unfortunately the birdie counter has not been rollicking along and today we added just 3 to take our tally to 49 + 2 Eagles. Again, we'd love for more people to be involved in this challenge as it really motivates us and is a great way of raising funds for The First Tee. If you're new to puregolf2010 - all the $ we're raising is going straight to TFT NZ and none to our expenses. We're getting by at the moment anyway from the sale proceeds of our beloved Dodgy.
John knocks it up on the par 3 10th hole.
see the heather & narrow shutes. This is 16 - a terrific dog leg left. Although there were about 6 such tee shots which did not favour my shot shape!
Thanks to Sheila and Richard for having us and Ladybank for kindly hosting us at their track. Another good day and 210 rounds of consecutive golf...
Q: what do you get when you play golf every day? A: a hideous golf tan - check out my feet
When conjuring a title for this post, it was tempting to use the pun ??PanPure?. That however would??ve been contrived, so I didn??t, favouring Plain English instead. Anyway the sentiment: the greens at Panmure are really the best we??ve had the pleasure of putting on in this links wonderland (just a shade purer than North Berwick and Royal Troon, which were also quite magnificent). I usually try to shy away from lists and rankings and the like ?? because they are polarising and I of course (as those of you who know me will no doubt know) avoid controversy at all costs... But on this occasion I??m making an exception because I feel so strongly on the matter. And putting is a subject dear to my heart.
Panmure??s the 20th oldest golf club in the world, and sits on the outskirts of the wee town of Barry (good Scottish name that it is), just down the road from Carnoustie (an equally good Scottish name). It??s a qualifying course for Opens and Senior Opens (like last week??s) held at Van de Velde??s favourite track.
My mum??s cousin Harvey has been a member there since 1959, which makes him part of the furniture. He??s had the same locker the whole time, No. 15. I wonder whether Nos. 1 to 14 have changed hands during his tenure or whether those old boys are still there too? I dropped Harvey ?? whom I hadn??t seen for 13 years ?? a line on Monday to let him know we were playing Panmure on Wednesday at noon, and to ask whether he??d like to join us for a game. Now retired from his family company in Dundee and from his duties with the Scottish Rugby Union (which he used to head up a few years ago), Harvey has a bit of time on his hands (most of which is spent fishing) and was only too happy to join us. Super.
Harvey??s one of life??s lovely folk: an affable, laid back character who seems to know everyone and doesn??t have a bad word to say about any of them. I think the reason he didn??t play (he just walked round with us) was because he thought we were gun golfers and he didn??t want to hold us up if he wasn??t on form. A very modest fellow. Given the way I struggled around he would??ve likely beaten me in any event! Although being so modest he would??ve kept it to himself...
Like Royal Troon, the first few holes are gentle and lull you almost into a false sense of security. Today however the wind was gusting strongly into us, making them (in fact, the first 10) a pretty testing affair. On the glassy greens though you always had a chance at your par putt if you??d been so careless so as not to be on in regulation. Around the course are a plethora of rustic features, giving it a very aged feel. Take the greenkeeper??s hut adjacent to the 1st green, or his house adjacent to the 2nd. They look like they??ve been there since Moses Struck The Rock (a nice lick of paint gives the appearance of mutton dressed up as lamb ?? a Kiwi phrase that I haven??t as yet heard over here). There??s an army base by the 16th too; I imagine it??s there because the links terrain ?? with its dunes, tussock, gorse and heather ?? probably looks just like Afghanistan. Certainly my own experiences of linksland warfare (Cowboys and Indians) as a youngster remain vividly etched in my grey matter. As a fervent Indian I??d always find the best vantage points among the gorse from which to fire my bow and arrow at my Cowboy brother. Of course he??d tell you otherwise ?? but those Cowboys aren??t to be trusted.
The course starts to blossom as you reach Hogan??s Hole, the 6th. (Apparently it was Benjamin??s favourite hole in Scotland). It??s a beauty. A blind tee shot is played to a fairway that for the shorter hitters is a double one (with the 7th), then up through a few moguls to a raised green surrounded by heather and gorse and general mischief. On the 6th we played through a group of American chaps that had been playing at a leisurely pace. I hit a low draw from the tee leaving only a wee punch 6 iron up to the dance floor ?? but standing over the approach felt a little rushed and blocked it into the bundai. With our American friends waiting back on the fairway we didn??t want to look for it for more than a minute or two, so I declared it lost, took a triple and moved on to the next tee. The beginning of the end after an acceptable start. Shame ?? but that??s golf.
Harvey provided invaluable local knowledge and was full of good stories. I particularly liked one he told about Tarum Airlines (anyone heard of them?), who he and the Scottish team flew with some years ago (once and once only) - apparently they had to tape one of the exit doors shut because it was coming loose! And the big burly forwards were asked to move down to the back to balance the plane for landing! It??s not like it used to be...
Below are a couple of photos of the 8th hole, which is a wee cracker. Blind tee shot and - unless you're on the right hand side of the fairway - a blind approach.
The sun poured over the links for the most part, and the wind blew enough to make life very interesting. Perfect golfing conditions. Over the past couple of weeks I??ve grown to love (or rather, rediscovered my love) for the way the sun shines between the clouds here. Not like NZ or Aussie, or even the US, where the sun sits alone in a piercing blue sky. Here the contrast is greater; invariably the sun dances between dark clouds, creating a greater appreciation for that warmth-on-the-back-of-your-neck feeling. It??s like Christmas: if you had it every week it wouldn??t be the same!
In the clubhouse Harvey treated us to lunch and a refreshing beverage ?? not in the very impressive wood panelled lounge (which requires a jacket and tie), but in the amusingly named ??Dirty Bar?. A steak pie and chips taste quite wonderful when you??ve been sluggling it slowly around the links. A few of Harvey??s pals, who??d been playing behind us, came up to offer kind words and a few quid each for The First Tee. Harvey also threw a fiver in, God Bless Him. A very generous and gracious bunch; Michael and I were humbled.
Before we left we got a quick tour of the Big Boys?? Bar and the Dining Room, the walls of which are lined with paintings of the club??s early captains (the Earl of....the Duke of...etc etc) - they looked androgynous and English in their full regalia, and would get beaten up if they walked around downtown Dundee these days. In their day I??m sure they were distinguished and revered. And probably beaten up at school too.
Thanks Harvey ?? great to see you and to catch up on 13 years of news! Don't know how you managed to escape without having your portrait taken, but I'll source a photo from somewhere...
JP
Our pal Carol ?? who took us out for a fantastic day at The Olympic Club in San Francisco back on Day 133 ?? also spends a bit of time over ??ere, often managing to tie in little trips with business (something she appears to be very adept at doing). Carol just loves Scotland, and she just loves golf. And so it seems that bringing her friends along for a game at The Renaissance Club, out in East Lothian, is for Carol one of life??s pleasures ?? something she is only too happy to do. Today we were among the lucky few that were extended an invitation.
A bit about Renaissance: You can read about its history here. Basically the land was part of the Duke of Hamilton??s Archerfield Estate, until a couple of ambitious American brothers had better ideas. To the West is The Honourable Company??s home turf, aka Muirfield. To the East is Archerfield Links, a new club like Renaissance. It??s quite a setting. The Firth of Forth sits out in front of you to the North, and on a clear day you can see The Kingdom of Fife (on a really really really clear day you can see the flags of Lundin Links, Leven, Elie and the like ?? if you have binoculars and the hankering). Bottom line ?? a lovely canvas for a golf course.
Enter Tom Doak, who??s certainly among the most revered course architects of the modern day. Tom??s responsible for the likes of Cape Kidnappers in New Zealand and Pacific Dunes up at Bandon in Oregon. He knows what he??s doing. And he doesn??t like to mess too much with the natural lay of the land. To quote the man himself:
??The most noteworthy courses of the past decade have been among the least expensive to build. Thanks to clients who understand the value of beautiful property, we??re able to create courses which compare to the best of the past...and look like they have been there just as long.?
Well said Tam. Anyway Tam ?? as I??ll now call him, since we??re in Scotland ?? was pleased for the club to be named after his company, Renaissance Golf Inc, given his high regard for the property and the area??s rich golfing heritage. So there you go.
It??s quite a grand entrance, I must say. When you wind past Archerfield House and eventually find the big gate bearing the club??s crest, you know right away you??re in for a pretty unique experience. A tree stump bolted to the wall by the gate bears a sign ??press to enter?. The driveway takes you past the 2nd green and 3rd hole, and up to the imposing clubhouse. It??s all very grand.
Right away we spotted Carol, who was doing what she does best ?? chatting to her friends and to the staff. After a big hug we were introduced to Harry & Carolyn (a charming retired couple from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina) and Ian (a dry witted Aberdonian). The lads ?? who Carol knows from Loch Lomond, where they all belong ?? would be joining us for a hit, while Carolyn planned to go for a brisk walk and finish what sounded like a good book. Sean the maitre-d?? gave us the run down on the place and mentioned we had 7400 yards of golf course to look forward to, if we were game. Which we always are.
Tam??s a quirky character if his golf courses are anything to go by. The boxes on the 1st tee are laid out on the practice putting green. Mike and I shied away from hitting 2 iron in case we took a divot! The 5 of us set off, with Carol having picked up another in caddy Paul. Our half dozen must??ve looked almost as imposing as those two ball foursomes plus caddies that we saw at Prestwick last week ?? a veritable golf army marching down the fairway! Skins was the format ?? as you can imagine there were a few halves with 5 contestants and shots flying everywhere...
The course though young manages to feel established, as Tam would hope. Ancient dykes (walls, for you non-Scots) have been retained, and add a rustic charm (not to mention the fact that they double as obstacles too). Doak left a few features trees and forests as well, giving the course something of a hybrid links/parkland feel. Quite unique. From the tips it??s a slog ?? something you appreciate almost right away, when you stand on the 2nd tee ?? a 260 yard par 3 to an undulating green. The rain came tumbling down too for a few holes on the front, stretching the holes out yet longer. Nothing wrong with a bit of Good Scottish Weather though; indeed it prompted Carol to don the most impressive rain gear I??ve ever seen ?? not so much as a drop could penetrate that outfit!
After 8 we paused for refreshments and sustenance, and were joined by a mutual friend Toddy, who??d been lunching at The Honourable Company on the back of a morning hit. Suffice to say he had a warm glow about him. Our 5 was then 6, so we split into 3s and hacked it around the back 10 at a more Scottish pace. Along the back 9 there were some stunning vistas across the Forth; we also saw the plot of land where they??re hoping to stick another 3 or 4 holes, down closer to the beach. Apparently Muirfield used to lease the land from The Duke??s estate, but couldn??t get planning permission to do what they wanted to do. The crowd at Renaissance are more optimistic and word is they??ll be getting to work in the not too distant future. If they manage to get the proposal through they??ll be a handful of stunning holes (and the first few will be used for warming up / practising). The flags are already out!
Toddy flinched awkwardly when I rolled in a stray birdie on the 14th ?? he??s one of the kind humans (Carol being another) who??s sponsoring us a pound for every birdie carded in Scotland, and a tenner for every eagle. Being a staunch supporter of The First Tee of NZ though he knows it??s for a good cause! Just as well he wasn??t paying for double bogeys today ?? otherwise he would??ve had to fork out a significant wad!
Our group converged in the warmth of the bar and perched on the most comfortable set of leather sofas this side of Cape Town. I was asked for my card by Carol, who took it upon herself to tally the skins. By some miracle (and it was a miracle) I came out on top, despite playing abominable golf. With all the horse trading finished we just sat and enjoyed each other??s company and tried not to fall asleep on those amazing sofas. Carol being the consummate host that she is insisted that we order a morsel or two to keep us going until dinner ?? a very comforting plate of bangers and mash arrived not too long after (Goldy continued his burger stretch as part of his weight gain program). Just the ticket after taking beating on Tam??s Leviathan.
As all good things do, the day came to an end. Carol was off in the morning to see friends in France, before heading to Tokyo on business. We were heading to Edinburgh, which was slightly less glamorous but more convenient. I??ve been trying to twist her arm into coming down to New Zealand for the Final Day at Cape Kidnappers on 31 December, but Carol??s a tough nut to crack. So in the spirit of peer pressure I??m going to publicly invite you Carol to come and be our guests down on our turf ?? it??s high time that you enjoyed some of our hospitality! Toddy??s been trying for years without success, but now you??ve got a couple other young motivated Kiwis on the case too...
Thanks again for an epic day at Renaissance.
JP
Waking up in the West End of Glasgow was unexpected. But that is how we roll and we had found a new friend in Tommy and his li??l dog Sushi. The two of them had joined us the prior night for a Guinness or two and it may not be the last we see of Tommy as looks like we may join up for a hit in the coming weeks when we next venture to Glasgow.
It was about 1pm by the time we rolled into Edinburgh where we met Jamie??s auntie Gillian who was taking us out to her 9 hole course in central Edinburgh ?? Ravelston.
Gillian and Ian have had us to stay with them for a few nights already in our Scotland leg and for that we are both very grateful. I must apologise to Ian for leaving their internet cord plugged into my mac during the day? Caused a few consternations, but the yellow cord is back in and all is well.
Gil (pictured with JP below) plays her golf at both Ravelston and Kilspindie and is a Keen Golfer like us which is great. She??s proud of Ravelston and rightly so. It??s a picturesque wee course that has views overlooking the city of Edinburgh, is a good layout (albeit 9 holes) and most importantly has a good group of keen members who sound like they make it a strong club.
It is a challenge too. Holes play across an undulating piece of land and when the breeze is blowing like it was today it??s a real test. So much so that neither of us managed a single birdie today which doesn??t do the fundraising much good.
There are a couple of great views at Ravelston, particularly as you play down to greens framed by a stone wall and houses. I thought I had sculled a bunker shot into said house at one stage but fortunately it held up? Good thing my green fee ticket came with associated insurance, valid only for one day.
Across the way is Murrayfield Golf Club and supposedly they want Ravelston??s 9 holes so they can have a 27 hole golfing establishment. I don??t think Ravelston are so keen on the idea. And they aren??t doing so badly themselves judging by the nice wee extension on their clubrooms.
Ravelston is a great example of an inner city course that encourages people to simply get out and enjoy some fresh air and a spot of golf. And you can??t beat that.
Thanks Gil for taking us on and for looking after us (and feeding JP??s brother Connor who can eat. And eat. And eat).
Ayrshire??s been good to us. Very good, in fact. Which is only right and good, in a karmic sense, because the place was for many years a source of less than happy memories for Yours Truly. Our family made an annual (non-religious) pilgrimage to Nor??n Ireland ?? The Land of My Father ?? part of which involved driving from Kirkcaldy to Stranraer. The Pattons Five were packed into the car (along with golf clubs, footballs and, optimistically, beach-going apparatus); the 3 in my generation, which I led, would fight incessantly for the duration of the drive; and the windy Ayrshire roads seemed never to end. Pandemonium in the old Saab, to put it mildly. In fact on one or two occasions I think I may have been ejected from the car (yes, dad occasionally followed through on his threats) in the town of Irvine ?? no doubt deserving it. Of course I was allowed back in, and the ??holiday? continued.
Anyway. On a more serious/golfing note. The 6 avid readers of our blog (hi mum, hi Uncle David...) will have seen that over the past few days we had the privilege of playing Prestwick, Dundonald, Royal Troon and Western Gailes ?? 4 top tracks, each within a stone??s throw of the next. At the end of the links lies The Gailes Links of Glasgow Golf Club (the club??s other home being Killermont up the road in Glasgow). And what a gem it is too.
The clubhouse is an understated affair from the outside, but once you get in you know you??ve arrived at Glasgow Golf Club. At once spartan and suave, if that??s possible. The gentleman behind the desk in the pro shop ?? in all likelihood the Pro ?? greeted us with that lovely soft Weedgie accent (can I use that term here or is it non-PC?), and told us we more or less had the course to ourselves. There was some gig on up the road at Killermont, so hardly anyone was around. At 4.30pm on a muted Saturday evening that was music to my ears.
The 1st hole is a fairly gentle affair, as it should be. A 2 iron; a wedge; and a putt ?? nice to start with a birdie and get that First Tee donation counter rolling for the day. On the 2nd we started to get a feel of what Glasgow Gailes is all about. At roughly 350 yards (I??d need to check the card but can??t be bothered), you lick your lips on the walk back to the tee. However. From about 130 yards out the fairway begins to narrow, and narrow, and narrow. Merciless heather looms on both sides, and there is a pot bunker or three to gobble up any unsuspecting stray pills. Hit a good 2 iron and a good wedge and you??re in business (assuming you navigate the false front); veer off course and it can be lethal. My kind of golf hole, if I may say.
The fairways actually were wider than they looked. But from the tee they??re partially obscured from view by the heather ahead, and in the low light conditions it wasn??t easy to see much at all. The message then is that they??re fair, but that the golf course tricks you into thinking it??s harder than it is. Make no mistake though ?? that heather is abominable! Every time I ventured into it I dropped a shot, or two. This won??t come as much of a surprise to any local reading this blurb or blog or whatever it??s called. They know its mischief. But for a lad that hasn??t tangled with heather for over a decade, it??s a novel sensation and one I could happily leave for another decade. Hit it in the bloomin?? fairway then son, I can hear you say...
Save for the group we caught up with on the 17th hole, there was not another soul on the course. Well, no other golfers anyway ?? the odd family or two were walking their dugs up and down the links, seemingly happy as Larry. Whoever Larry was. I was happy too, and relaxed ?? at least when I wasn??t visiting Heather anyway.
There were one or two semi-blind shots to contend with, which require you to place a certain amount of trust in the golf course. And your swing. On each occasion I seemed to somehow scratch together a birdie or an eagle, which tells me one thing ?? when I see the hole I get ahead of myself!
The course had a good set of par 3s, come to think of it. None were gut wrenchingly long, but you had to be pretty cute about where you pitched the ball. Humps and bumps and that cow Heather were lurking everywhere ?? no more so than on the 14th, which has a raised green surrounded by mayhem. The talking point really though was The Gailes?? collection of short par 4s, each of which demanded something a little different. I could??ve played them over and over and never sicken of trying to get the better of ??em.
In the locker room we got chatting to one of the chaps from the two ball in front. Tommy??s a member, and was having a wee fiver match with his mate Tony (which he managed to pull back to square after being dormy 4 down, much to Tony??s dismay). Out in the car park we were about to go our separate ways, but then Tommy suggested we grab a pint up the road in Glasgow. We had nothing to be back for in Edinburgh that night, so took him up on his kind offer. Before we knew it we were at a buzzing pub in Glasgow??s West End ?? Tennent??s ?? with a guy we??d only met half an hour previously, putting the world to rest.
Before last week??s wee excursion I??d never really been to Glasgow ?? apart from for the odd game of school boy rugby or rep hockey. ??Twas worlds apart from Edinburgh in my mind, somewhere I didn??t know much about and had never bothered to find out more. So when Tommy offered us a bed each at his ample flat up the road, and a night out in the West End, a great opportunity presented itself ?? and in Tommy we had a Top Guy to show is what it??s all about. Within the hour we??d picked up a fish supper from the local; gone back to base camp to spruce up; picked up Tommy??s wee dug, Sushi (otherwise known as ??Toota?); and returned to Tennant??s for another round. Wee Toota was with us too, of course ?? she??s a local attraction at the pub and gets much more attention than her owner! We chucked as everyone ogled the wee thing, asking ??how is she??; no one by the same token bothering to ask how Tommy himself was. He didn??t seem to mind.
Tommy took us out to meet a few of his pals who were ?? in the Glasgow way ?? entertaining to say the least. Real characters. It wasn??t a late night, but it was a very social one. Our host showed us some real Glasgwegian hospitality, which reminded me a bit of The South in the US, in the way that the people seem to embrace anyone and anything. Some people might be a bit wary about spending an evening on a whim with a random single man in Glasgow, but not us. For one thing it was immediately apparent Tommy was a great guy; for another, it??s what This is all about ?? meeting people and seeing where the wind takes you. Great day.
JP
Western Gailes is a course that I knew nothing about before today. I had not read about it, nor had I heard any rave reviews about it. So there were no expectations as we drove into the gate across the railway lines onto the property that sits adjacent to Royal Troon, Prestwick and Glasgow Gailes. Being in such close proximity to the supreme rolling seaside land of the aforementioned courses I should have realised we were in for a real treat.
On the first tee we were welcomed by the starter, a lovely old chap called Henry. Henry shared with us a few wise words about the course and told us about its pedigree as final open qualifier course and from hosting other big tournaments such as the Curtis cup and the national amateur championships.
The first hole is a pleasant and straight forward par four (the first of 13 par fours on the course ranging in length from 309 yards to well over 470) and a chance to get into the groove, before the next holes which really press the right buttons.
After finding one of the well positioned pots on the third, it was the approach to the 4rd hole (below) where the first touches of real class glimmered as I looked up at the green with wedge in hand and all I could see were the two bunkers front and left with broad shoulders making the seemingly innocuous pin placement all of a sudden that much more difficult.
Standing on the 5th green both JP and I were thinking, out load to ourselves, wow this is a great track. Serious well positioned pot bunkers laid out on a stunning piece of rolling land sitting adjacent to the water. A wee breeze blowing off the sea was also asking for just that little bit of creativity.
And then we made it to the 6th tee. After a few moments of deliberation on where to hit our tee shots we consulted the course guide Henry had kindly given us and finally took aim and fired blind over a mound. The balls swung right to left off the sea breeze and ended up there or thereabouts. Before we knew it we were knocking our 2 irons over a mound towards the blind green. A few bounces later and we were not too far short and standing amidst the dunes over pitch shots to an ingeniously located green set amidst the dunes....
The rest is history as they say ?? I knocked it up from 50 yards and left it right in the jaws rolling in from the left and the JP beat me to it rolling it right in the cup from the right - BOOM. A combined 7 shots is not bad going. And crucially 11 pounds for the first tee from each of our benefactors taking part in the Scotland Birdie / Eagle challenge. Check out the video below!
On a high and loving the golf course nothing changed on the 7th despite the two of us ruining our pleasant looking scorecards with matching 5??s. But nevermind the score ?? the 7th is a superb hole played along the water and to another green nestled into a creative home and flanked by bunkers.
8 and 10 are a couple of par fours played over a burn both running the same direction and both merely a 2 iron and sand wedge. Since finishing our round and talking about Western Gailes I think it is these two holes that create the bront of the criticism because of their sameness. It is almost like the course allows the golfer to take their foot off the throttle just as they are warming up.
9 (below) is the rose between the thorns, albeit a hole of the same length (or a touch shorter) and played in exactly the same direction. A strongly hit drive could find a down slope and sneak between two bunkers leaving an eagle putt. But the smart play is to lay up leaving a short wedge where you can??t see the base of the pin and to a two tiered green that you simply must not miss. One of those wedge shots that really gets the blood pumping.
After a couple of strong par fours, 11 and 12, and the short par three 13th (where I played merrily in the sand whilst JP continued his fine golf) played out to the southwestern corner of the golf course from where it is time to turn and follow the train tracks back towards the clubhouse. 14 is a par five, reachable in two if you can navigate around the pots (lesson learnt the hard way). Another great green complex framed by the railway line, a couple of pots and a subtly sloping green.
15 pictured below is a gorgeous par three and upon JP making another par a good round was beckoning.
But then on the 16th tee things when awry. With JP eyeing the possibility of beating his old foe named par, he was unstuck by the burn which rolls around 40 yards short of the green. I must admit with the strength of the finish here, and the OOB looming down the right hand side of the last few holes I was kind of glad that it was not me trying to grind out a 'round-of-the-year'.
17 is another tee shot flanked by the train tracks but then this hole, with a ledge through the middle of the fairway, kinks back towards the ocean where you must play a blind shot with only a bright red cross to aim at.
The 18th leaves you at peace with yourself and with Western Gailes - a more gentle finish that leaves you wanting to come back for more. And that we did, but not before JP raised another hundred dollars or so from the gentlemen inside for The First Tee. Thanks gents and the crew at Western Gailes (I believe the secretary is from down under?) for a cracker of a day at one of the most under rated courses of the year.
Postscript: Birdie tally through today??s round is 27 birdies, 1 eagle totallng 37 pounds to the first tee for each of our now three contributors. We encourage you to get involved in our Scottish birdie challenge ?? we??d love to have even more riding on each hole!!
PPS - A MUST PLAY if you're coming to Scotland
Royal Troon is among the most famous of the Great Scottish Links??, and therefore among the most famous courses in the world. It was founded in 1878 and held 8 Open Championships between 1923 and 2004 ?? won by Giants of the Game such as Locke, Palmer, Weiskopf, Watson, Calcavecchia, Leonard and, er, Todd Hamilton. Troon became Royal Troon in its centenary year ?? 1978 ?? when it received the Royal Decree. Now the members drive Aston Martins instead of BMWs and use silk handkerchiefs instead of linen.
The Old Course is sandwiched between Prestwick to the south and the Gailes courses (Western and Glasgow) and Dundonald to the north. On not a bad piece of golfing terra firma. In fact you??d be hard pushed to find a better agglomeration of links tracks anywhere on these Isles, or anywhere in the world for that matter. Royal Troon??s in good company.
How they let 3 Kiwi punters (and a Kiwi caddy) on for a game I??ll never know. But when the email came through suffice to say I was somewhat elated. Pete delayed his flight by a couple of days so he could experience a day or two of life as part of the puregolf2010 machine, with a game at Troon as a sweetener (as if he needed one...?!); and Doug came along for the ride too. Four excited Kiwis, yes Sir. Pete very kindly sponsored us to stay at The Anchorage Hotel in Troon last night, which was like going back in time. On Troon Eve we took in the sights of the local town, taking in a quiz at the local Inn and a spot of Bingo (we weren??t in time to take part, but observed with interest)! A very confusing discussion with the Head Chef at the local curry joint was also a highlight. As was sitting up until the wee hours ?? rather unwisely ?? playing cards in our room.
Anyway. In the morning we waded through a sea of cholesterol / chowed down a cooked ??breakfast? at the Anchorage (the lads hadn??t experienced black pudding before!), then made our way around the corner to the course. Rookie mistake: I??d forgotten that in the email were instructions not to wear shorts. So when we turned up in the clubhouse to meet the Caddiemaster we were politely advised of our error. Peter himself was a very gracious man indeed, and didn??t bat any eyelid. The rather officious chap running around in a blue jacket though was not quite as patient. Trousers on, quick smart. Right.
With an hour to kill before we were off, quite a few practice putts were hit. Not enough, as it turned out. I got talking to the starter, a very affable gentleman who used to be a footballer in his day. He shared with me his regrets about not giving it a go down south and overseas. Sadly his mother had kept from him an opportunity to go down at the age of 15 to Brighton to try out for a team down there, probably with his best interests at heart. He however didn??t see it that way and looks back on What Might Have Been. That??s not a sensation I enjoy.
The first 3 or 4 holes on The Old Course at RT are bonnie but not intimidating. As long as the wind??s not howling you can fire a few easy swing 2 irons down there and a mid to short iron onto the deck, without much trouble. Things start to hot up a bit on the par 5 6th, which I recognised from the 2004 Open. Then on the 7th you begin to realise you??re playing Royal Troon: a 380 yard dogleg right par 4 with more bunkers than I??ve had hot dinners and a well guarded green tucked between the dunes. On that hole Goldy rolled in his 3rd birdie of the day, and given Doug was perched up on the dune behind the hole I thought he might??ve captured it on film ?? but no such luck. At this point I made by 7th straight par and was beginning to wonder what all the fuss was about. Ha ?? famous last words!
The postage stamp 8th hole is infamous. Many a postage stamp hole has been designed around the world with the 8th at RT in mind, some of which we??ve experienced this year. The only one I can remember that comes close is 16 at Paraparaumu Beach, which is equally as straightforward / tormenting, depending on how you play it. I pulled my sand wedge into the coffin bunker, which is not a nice place to be; Goldy pulled it onto the other side of the dune; and Pete stuck it was an easy swing (the secret) to 6 feet! I??m pleased to say Mr. Borren rolled it in for a memorable birdie too. And with an 8 footer sliding past the left edge I carded my first bogey of the round. Dammit.
On the 10th we had a bit of a mozza. The tees are set amongst the gorse in what really is the middle of nowhere. Were it not for the narrow path cut up into the dunes ahead you??d have no idea whatsoever which way to go. Doug strided up ahead to give us a line and to keep an eye on where our tee shots ended up. He picked his spot and waved us on. I took aim and thrashed a high draw with my driver, precisely down the line he indicated was the correct one. Problem is, when the ball left the clubface, Doug turned 180 degrees and yelled FORE. The 2 ball ahead were about to play their approaches and my ball flew straight over their heads! Doug neglected to shout back that this was the case, and so we found ourselves in a slightly embarrassing (but thankfully not lethal) situation. I marched up to the next tee and apologised; the two Englishmen were good humoured about the whole thing, but I was red faced nonetheless. What a kafuffle.
Yesterday at Dundonald we??d been laughing about the inevitable 3 off the tee that follows a 3 putt. It??s uncanny how a 3 putt or a missed 3 footer always precedes a block or hook into the gorse. Unfortunately it was my turn, when I 3 putted from just off the edge of the stroke 1 11th hole, then put the nail into the coffin on What Might Have Been A Good Round by blocking the wee white thing into the gorse on 12. Curtains. Next time I think, as an experiment, I??m going to hit a 9 iron off the tee ?? regardless of how long the hole is. Reckon I??ll score better...
The sun came out along the stretch and ?? though the pace of play slowed a little ?? we were in our element, marvelling at Troon in its full splendour. The brilliant red sandstone of The Marine Hotel glowed handsomely. And the contours of the course were revealed more acutely, as shadows grew longer by the second. The understated yet majestic clubhouse was a beacon of comfort ?? i.e. a sign that food wasn??t too far away ?? and an impressive sight in its own right. I wonder whether those 8 Open champions that walked down the 18th were as hungry as we were? Probably.
Off then we went to Morrison??s supermarket to pull together a feast to end all feasts. Goldy was particularly pleased with the 8 donuts for 59 pence deal he found. I was more taken with my 4 nectarines for a pound find. Yum.
The 2001 St. Andrews College golf team then packed into the car once more and set sail for Edinburgh, where we were to meet an old friend of Pete??s for dinner on George Street. I had forgotten how beautiful the centre of town is on a summer??s evening ?? the likes of India Street, Charlotte Square and George Street itself were buzzing with action and caked In sun. ??Twas a long day, Day 203, but a good one. A very good one.
JP
Day 202 at Dundonald Links was another cracker and will be brought to you by guest blogger, a man who has a way with words, Peter Borren.
"The Yips" By P. Borren
There can be no denying that I have spent this year in a constant state of eternal jealousy. I have followed Mike and JP closely throughout their journey and have very much looked forward to having the opportunity to join them for a round or two. Fortunately for me, I had cricket in Scotland on Tuesday so I took the chance to tag along with them for a couple of days and get my own small slice of the PureGolf2010 pie.
I guess I have had a rather romantic view of the challenge that they have undertaken. In theory, what could be better than just cruising around all year playing golf? The reality of this life for Mike and JP however is actually a little different than what I had envisioned. PureGolf2010 is a logistical nightmare. Every minute away from the golf course is spent on phones and laptops in an effort to make this work. Fortunately for the boys they have both been lucky enough to have attended (endured) networking workshops run by 'consultants'. Having this invaluable education on how to have manners and communicate effectively has allowed them to reach over 200 days of this challenge thus far. They are obviously both affable characters, therefore it is no surprise that they have benefited from such genorosity during their trip. They have countless stories of good folk, not previously known to them, helping out.
Wednesday the 21st of July was a long day. The night before had rendered us a tad sluggish to say the least. I met the lads early and, after a much needed coffee, we (JP, Doug, Goldy and I) squeezed into the car for a trip down to Ayreshire. And squeezed we were, as Doug had decided to bring all his worldly possessions, for our little golfing adventure. My tiredness was increasingly being replaced with excitement and there was a distinct air of anticipation in the car as we pulled into the Dundonald Links carpark, (perhaps I mistook the atmosphere for one of anticipation, it may also have been my smelly cricket gear or the fact that the Merc was running on the smell of an oily rag!). Anyhoo, whatever, we were there and by the looks of the carpark, we were to have the course to ourselves, and so it proved.
Dundonald Links is comparatively a baby down in those parts. I say baby as in age (opened 2003), unfortunately for me it proved no baby when it came to distance. Having played 197 less rounds of golf than my playing partners this year, I found playing off the championship tees a real struggle at times. We played a best ball match, Goldy and I against the pseudo scotsman and the big man. To say that Mike carried me around the course would be an understatement and the fact that we managed to edge the other two on the 17th is a testament to Mikes golf.
Dundonald is a man made links course. All the holes are enclosed from the others by dunes and as the pro mentioned, when playing a hole you would think that you were the only ones on the course (which we were anyway). There are a number of long par fours which require quality ball striking. My favourite hole on the front was the ninth itself. A huge and rather foreboding bunker guards what is otherwise a generous fairway. If one is lucky enough to miss the bunker (which somehow we all did), there is a mid iron (unless you are JP and bomb it down the middle) down to a green with a burn running across the front and a couple of well positioned pot bunkers ready to pounce.
The short par three 11th was a highlight. Kyle Phillips (the designer) has cleverly positioned the tees so that instead of increasing in distance the angle to the green became tougher as you moved through the grades. As we were, for some sadistic reason, playing from the tips this meant that we had very little green to work with over two huge pot bunkers with the biggest faces on them ive seen.
The twelfth (below) was a good hole too. It is a par four that runs alongside the railway. From the tee you have magnificent views out over the ocean. Its also a great vantage point from which to truly appreciate the Ayreshire coast for the golfing 'mecca' (as JP put it) that it is. There are courses everywhere. I managed to find the burn in front of the green, which proved to be the beginning of the end for me. I have always maintained that golf courses should be 12 holes long. Nine is never quite enough and eighteen is beyond my limits of concentration. You see, I have a problem. I dont know where it came from, or for what reason it has crept into my game. I suffer from the affliction most commonly known as 'The Yips'. Much to the amusement of anyone I happen to play with, I cant bring myself to pull the club back from the ball. Most severe off the tee and around the greens (leaving very few Yip free shots), I am a mess over most shots. I waggle the club, wiggle the club, play a few practice strokes and settle the club behind the ball. The club just stays there. I just cant bring it back. Maybe I need a red dot on my glove like Louis Oosthuisen, then I could focus better. I dont know, but what ends up happening is that I just think, 'bugger it, stop being such an idiot' and I just swing the club with little or no thought. Enduring this psychological battle with oneself over every shot, requires a lot of energy, hence the fact that 12 holes is enough for me.
So, avid readers of this blog, if you want to know about the last six holes at Dundonald links you will have to go there yourself. Those six holes are a blur of hunger, thirst, lost balls and swear words. I vaguely remember finding all seven bunkers on a par five at some stage, or maybe I found one bunker and just played seven shots in it, I cant quite recall. Anyway, it was a tired foursome who finally shook hands on the 18th, tired and yet somehow satisfied, all golfers must know that feeling. Having had the course to ourselves we fair flew around in a little over what felt like 7 hours.
Bucket in a serious pot bunker as the light fades
In all seriousness though, I must say that Dundonald Links proved to be a fantastic experience. It is a true challenge and if you find yourself in the area having played one of the many courses nearby, stay an extra day, for Dundonald wont disappoint. Unless you are a gun, I would advise not to play off the tips as it has the potential to chew you up and spit you out. Only Goldy proved worthy of her on the day, and only because he makes so many puts its ridiculous. I remember on one green, as he rolled another one in, looking over at JP who just rolled his eyes and shook his head, apparently after 200 hundred days it grates.
A big thankyou to Dundonald Links for hosting us. Also to JP and Mike, I had a great couple of days and very much look forward to catching up with you when puregolf hits Holland!
Prestwick must surely be as traditional as it gets in the golfing world. And I like it. Nay, I love it. Our visit to this hallowed place has been a long time coming: a Scottish expat now living in New Zealand ?? The Rt. Hon Kenny Thomson (Jnr.) ?? saw us on Breakfast TV back in February and noticed we were planning to be across here around the time of The Open. As it happened, so was Kenny ?? so he dropped us a line and asked whether we might like to join him for a game down at Prestwick before he returned back to NZ. After taking the 50:50, asking the audience and phoning a friend I confirmed that yes, we would be happy to slum it for a day and make the trip down to Ayrshire. And so a 5 month wait ensued.
After getting bucketed on last night at The Dukes Course on the hills overlooking St. Andrews we zipped across Fife to stay with dear family friends of mine, The Lows. The 4 hours?? notice I gave Auntie Phil that we??d be descending upon Dunearn Farm didn??t seem to inconvenience her or Uncle Jock, although my mum would be mortified at such Gaul. With 4 of us ?? Michael and I, and friends Doug and Tim from New Zealand ?? packed in The Tank, along with 16 tonnes of luggage, we were glad to pour out onto the doorstep and into the comfort of The Lows?? lovely farmhouse cottage. It was also something of a relief to get out of St. Andrews after a manic 5 days of All Things Golf.
I??ve been lugging around my sports jacket for over 200 days because I??d need it at places like Prestwick. As such I took some satisfaction in donning it in the morning, feeling like a 5-year-old off for his first day at school. One thing I haven??t lugged around ?? and which I??d need ?? was a tie, but Jock kindly came to the party and lent me one (which belonged to his father before him, as it happens). Sporting freshly ironed white shirts and jackets and ties we hopped back into The Tank and headed West. Doug and Tim were dropped in Glasgow to watch Tim??s cousin (and our friend) Peter play cricket for Holland against Bangladesh; Mike and I continued south down the M77. And then we found ourselves in the carpark at Prestwick, chomping at the bit.
While hauling out our gear from the car we got chatting to a couple of Nor??n Irish cum Californian folk who??d parked next to us, and to a chatty Westie the car over who turned out to be Davey the 4th member of our group. Davey & Kenny ?? like Michael and I ?? went through University together and, though Kenny now plies his trade 12,000 miles away in the Antipodes, they still keep in touch and try to catch up whenever possible. Often on the golf course, which is the best place to catch up with old friends if you ask me.
The path to the clubhouse entrance takes you past the big bay window inside which all the members gather on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday mornings before play. Between 8 and 10 each member is dealt to from a pack of cards; the Aces and Queens play together against the Kings and Jacks ?? a tradition that has endured since the club??s early days nigh on 160 years ago. This way you don??t know who you??re playing with until the cards are dealt, and you inevitably end up meeting most if not all of your fellow members, rather than keeping to cliques as is the case at many clubs.
Kenny was perched in the window looking dapper in a blue blazer and his Prestwick member tie, but came out to greet us at the front door. We were shown to the old locker room to drop our gear, then taken into the bar for a dram and a coffee before play. It??s not every day that I??d have a whisky at 10am before teeing off, but at Prestwick I made an exception. Because it??s Prestwick. In keeping with the sociable fabric of the club, the chairs in the bay window are set out in two parallel lines rather than into huddles of 4 ?? meaning everyone really sits and likely gets chatting with everyone else.
The time eventually came to step onto that famous 1st tee. Our 4 ball was at the end of the members?? block and a good 15 minutes or so before the visitors would tee off ?? so we were all but assured of a good pace of play. The balls were thrown up and Davey and I paired together. An offshoot of this was that Michael would benefit from Kenny??s local knowledge and I wouldn??t. (That??s not entirely accurate actually; I promised to wind Kenny up in the blog and am starting as I mean to continue).
What a golf hole. Your brain doesn??t know quite what to make of it upon first impression. Or after you??ve played it, for that matter. There??s a wall running the length of the hole on the right hand side, over which is the railway (from which the holes its namesake, ??Railway?). On the left is heather and bunkers and generally inhospitable territory. The fairway is largely obscured from view by said heather, so you have to 1. Rely on Kenny??s instructions; and/or 2. Consult the diagram on the fence by the tee that sets out how the hole should be played. You know you??re in for something of a calamity when the club has to put a picture up telling you how to play a hole!
We all got our tee shots away safely enough ?? none over the wall at this point ?? much to our collective relief. Then I blocked an 8 iron that looked like it was heading 25 feet pin high right (it??s a semi-blind shot). I must??ve misjudged both the shot and the wind because it flew straight over the wall onto the railway! A shot I will never forget. In the context it wasn??t just despair and anguish that I felt, but also amusement and almost delight.
The course is littered with quirky holes like the 1st. No doubt they??re polarising: some people for whatever reason detest playing blind shots. I??m in the other camp, and relish the challenge / lottery. All the anguish is worth it when you walk over a dune and spot your ball sitting 6 feet from the pin, having 5 seconds ago not known whether it was in a pot bunker, in the long grass or somewhere playable.
Take the 3rd, an unorthodox par 5 if ever there was one. First of all, there??s a heathery ditch at about 260 yards or so, and a huge railway sleeper bunker behind ?? so you basically have to hit 2 iron or 3 wood off the tee (on a line Kenny tells you). Then it??s a blind approach over the hill and said mischief to a Himalayas-esque fairway and a semi-blind approach to a postage stamp green surrounded by humps and hollows. Then the 5th (named ??Himalayas? - pictured below) is a 200+ yard par 3 straight over a big sand dune. A couple of little wooden crosses stuck into the face of the hill (one red, one white) give something of a clue about where you??re meant to hit it. My partner Davie rifled one right between ??em and to 8 feet ?? a very impressive shot indeed.
The deceptively innocuous sounding 6th hole (??Elysian Fields?) is a more straightforward hole but if you stray into the Fields as I did you can Forget About It. Kenny quipped off the tee, ??you??ll either find it or you won??t? - which at the time sounded a little Irish to me. When I walked up to where I thought the ball was, I realised what he meant. Either it??d be sitting somewhere obvious or it would??ve been gobbled up by the merciless heather. The latter, as it turned out... I particularly liked the 8th too, another blind approach with the line marked by a pole behind the green.
On the 10th hole (??Arran?, named after the island of the same name to which you look out to as you approach the green) I really found out what Prestwick rough is about. Because I can??t swear on the blog I??ll have to find words of a similar strength that can be used. Let??s try abominable, atrocious, gruesome, harrowing, abhorrent, unpleasant and cursed. My ball didn??t appear to be sitting too badly upon first inspection, so I pulled 5 iron and had aspirations of knocking it There Or Thereabouts. Haha! Oh how naïve. The ball to its credit moved, but only 5 yards or so, this time into a yet less enticing lie. For my 3rd shot I grabbed a sand wedge and tried merely to dig it out onto the fairway. Again, to its credit, the ball moved, but again in its wisdom it decided to stop short of the fairway ?? which by this time was beginning to seem like a Very Distant Paradise. Finally for 4 I made it; then hit a good pitch to 10 feet; then missed for double, carding an ugly triple bogey 7. Lesson learned.
Along the back there are some extraordinary holes. The 13th green (pictured below) is mental ?? something you discover when you eventually see it after traipsing up and down through the moguls.
The aptly named 15th (??Narrows? )has one of the narrowest (if not the narrowest) fairways in world golf. And it??s a cracking hole too. As Kenny told us on the tee, when the greenkeeper mows the fairway he starts at the tee and heads in a straight line to the green (just the one trip). It??s a partially blind tee shot, and on both sides of the ??fairway? is ?? you guessed it ?? heather. To get to the green you climb up a wee hill and then descend a few yards, making the 2nd shot (if you??re lucky enough only to be playing your second) a semi-blind one.
17 is my favourite 17th hole to date, without a doubt. You drive through the heather to an undulating fairway ?? again, pretty narrow stuff ?? then pitch over a heather covered dune with 3 little stones atop it (to show you the line: left stone if you??re playing from the left; right if you??re from the right; middle if you??re on the fairway) to what must be one of the most zany green complexes in the world. I won??t try to describe it but check out the photo below.
On 18 tee you can see the lights of the bay window beckoning up ahead. All that stands between you and The Prestwick Lunch is a straightforward driveable par 4. In our ineptitude none of us managed a birdie, but by this stage all that was on our mind was a hot shower and some grub. Davey sadly had to get back to work so our 4 was then 3. We hopped quickly through the showers ?? another thing Prestwick is well known for, quite rightly ?? then put our jackets and ties back on, ready for the next chapter.
Kenny let the staff know that we??d be through momentarily then took us once more into the bar for a silver tankard of ale. (There??s a story behind the tankards but this blog is already getting long enough). The dining room is quite something. A huge long table sits smack bang in the middle of a room that probably hasn??t changed at all for 150 years. There are huge paintings of past captains and others on the walls. The table is set as if King George XI was coming for a bite (the Queen wouldn??t be coming as it??s gentlemen only). And there??s the most magnificent cheese board you??ve ever seen on the sideboard.
A young waiter with a broad Weegie accent informs us that there are 3 soups on offer today: French Onion, Curried Parsnip, or Cream of Mushroom. We each have a different one. I fill up on oat cakes smothered in butter while we wait. Then it??s either Venison, Chicken or Fish for the main event. We all have venison. And life is certainly very good. Because we snuck in just before the 2.30pm cut off, we were the last ones to dine. Had we arrived an hour earlier the table would??ve been packed with the morning crowd and ?? like the bay window ?? you just take your seat and get chatting to the fella next to you. There must??ve been some fantastic lunches in that dining room over the years, something you can??t help but try to imagine while you??re in y??er seat.
To round off the Prestwick experience we sat once more inside the bay window to digest our lunch with a coffee and Kummel (some austere looking colourless Russian liqueur ?? Prestwick & Troon combined reputedly consume about 80% of the total volume imported into the UK each year). Then Kenny took us on a quick tour of the clubhouse; picked himself up a very camp looking pink shirt in the pro shop; and we did our farewells. Poor Kenny isn??t going to be coming home for 3 years or so, but when he does he??ll have a few days at this amazing place to look forward to. Before then we??ll have a hit over in New Zealand Kenny my friend, where things are a little different but no doubt we??ll have a blast all the same.
An incredible experience with two good lads we??re privileged to now call friends ?? Kenny and Davey. Prestwick is a bastion of golf??s traditions, where the finer points of the game remain well and truly intact. It was the venue for the very first Open championship, 150 years ago. It??s also one of the most fun courses I??ve ever played and one I hope to play slightly better next time! At least I??ll know that the wall on the 1st is closer than you think...
JP
Postscript: After leaving Prestwick we shot up to Glasgow to catch the second half of Pete??s cricket match. Holland beat Bangladesh in a nail biting finish, to card their first ever win against a test playing nation. A huge achievement for Dutch cricket, and a special one for Pete as captain. Needless to say they celebrated in style in Glasgow that night, and we were glad to be there to share the euphoria with them. Well done boys.
Sluggish from a week at St Andrews, on Monday four kiwis took to the Dukes course at St Andrews along with our man Chris Barnard from Kingsbarns. Quality chap who, one day, might also become a kiwi provided our immigration guys sort themselves out and let him in to start his job as a greenkeeper at Paraparaumu Beach GC.
There was some very Scottish weather (i.e, rain and dreariness) and the wet weather gear was coming out left right and centre. Tim Borren, caddying for the day, had made the amateur error of wearing jeans so my wet weather pants were with him.
The first tee shot gave us an indication of what was to follow ?? gorse everywhere and long wet rough. It looked like there was nowhere to hit it, but then as we wandered down the hole wasn??t too narrow at all.
I think the rain started on the second hole. And with the rain the 200 yard tee shots with no roll. It was definitely a driver day. The rain got heavier and heavier to the extent that JP commented that it was very ??wet rain??. Smart guy. T Borren subsided to the clubhouse and I reclaimed my wet weathers ?? not after my linen pants had turned a much darker colour of blue.
Doug Mathews, an old mate from back in NZ who has moved to the UK made up the 4 ball which was his first round of golf in the northern hemisphere and it looked like it! This action shot doesn't look so bad though. Playing golf for 200 days in a row, you realise how epicly long Douggie hits the ball.
Despite the rain the four of us kept trooping on. As we do. I will admit to a split second or two of worry as after a particularly severe downpoud the 4th green looked like it was trying to flood. But the 5th green had no such issues. The photographs today are courtesy of Chris as our camera was hiding from the rain. It is not much of a fan. But the beaut thing about the photography skills of Chris is that he is the master of catching us mid-action. So you may notice a theme in the pictures below (it also helps this his camera does not click like ours which is rather off-putting and I know what Steve Williams would do if that happened mid downswing for Tiger).
The golf was rather awol and looking for golf balls in the long stuff became less of a priority ?? that was after a first crack at it on the 5th caused my waterproof callaway shoes to open the floodgates. My feet were now wet.
In the rain the course plays long. 480 yard par fours, 220 yard uphill par threes and the like. This is a ball strikers course. The type of course a pro would shoot 68 on, but us mere mortals battle to go under 80. A bit like the TPC numbers in the US. If you can bomb your drive you should be able to hit it on the large greens and scoring is manageable. If you can't bomb your drives, well the trouble compounds - particularly when the rough is long.
Of course we had a match, a hotly contested one at that as the childhood competitiveness with Jamie was doubled when he was partnered up with Doug. The match, and the standard of golf was affected by our energy levels which dropped considerably and we were all hanging out for Tim to return with some food as we were starting to fade. But a significant lead for the good guys proved unassailable despite Douggie finding his rhythm on the back nine.
The food didn??t arrive, but we trooped on through the amen corner of 10, 11, 12 which cost a few of double bogeys amongst the group, and the 11th well it is a monster of a par five played along the fence with a burn rolling across short of the green and bunkers everywhere. Probably the signature hole on the course.
Then the last few holes, recently redesigned were pretty sharp with more undulating greens and strong golf holes which combine well with the routing which was clearly put there to make the most of the views below towards the township and the water beyond. The highlights reel included a cheeky birdie on 13, a close (unconverted) tee shot on 16 (see pic below) and Doug??s (unconverted) approach to 17. Which I must add is a quality hole framed by four huge trees. Quite American-esque.
There was no excuse for putting woes as the Dukes course is in great condition. Probably because of our man Leo from Paraparaumu Beach and his influence working here on the greens staff (for 5 weeks a number of years ago).
We climbed the 18th and finished to some bread rolls and cheese. Then it was off with four bodies and far too much gear in the car back to Burnt Island where we crashed for some much needed sleep with very old family friends of JP, the Lowes. Thanks Chris for arranging day 200 of puregolf2010 and The Dukes course for hosting us. Birdie Count thru one week: 19. Contact us to get involved in the birdie challenge fundraising!
It??s not every day that you get to watch Sunday of The Open at St. Andrews then head out to Kingsbarns in the evening for a hack. As far as ??Golf Days? go, today??s gotta be right up there. The Championship itself may have been something of an anti-climax, but fair play to y??er man Louis, and the atmosphere at The Home of Golf really is what it??s all about. Electric. The thing I love most about Open crowds is that they??re so heterogeneous. That??s a big word. Everyone from the landed gentleman to the street sweeper is there. They say that golf is the great leveller ?? usually by reference to the actual playing of the game ?? and it is, but in a broader sense; in the sense that everyone can enjoy it, appreciate it and share it. The boys in their Sunningdale and Pine Valley ties certainly look smart walking the links, but inside the ropes they??re just patrons like y??er man who plays at his local 9 holer and turns out in tracksuit trousers and a raincoat.
Kingsbarns is about 10 minutes outside St. Andrews, along towards Crail and the East Neuk. It was designed by Kyle Phillips and built about 10 years ago on leased farmland. And it??s now world famous. Nearly all of the Americans we met across The Pond who??d been across ??ere for a trip picked Kingsbarns as one of their favourites. Having now played the course this doesn??t surprise me, on two counts (I??ll get to them shortly). So the anticipation was high when we jumped into The Tank and boosted through St. Andrews, past the Abbey and up the hill to meet our pal Chris.
Chris is the Assistant Greenkeeper at Kingsbarns and an all round Good Lad. Like Marc he contacted us through the website some months ago, in this case with an email going something like: ??I??m a greenkeeper at Kingsbarns... If you fancy at game when you??re over here let me know and we??ll get out for a hit.? YUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. It??s fair to say I fired an email back more or less while his cursor was still on the ??Send? icon. Yes, please. Chris also has ties to New Zealand ?? having worked this past summer at the spectacular Jack??s Point (see Day 31) near Queenstown ?? and in fact is in the process of getting a visa to go back and work there ?? this time at The Spiritual Home of Golf, my home club, Paraparaumu Beach! So he??ll be there when I get back, as long as those immigration folks play ball.
When we arrived at the clubhouse there was hardly a soul there. Just a Japanese tourist or two that had made the pilgrimage for a souveneir. We had the course to ourselves, quite literally. Chris furnished us with the little welcome packs patrons receive as a consolation for forking out 165 quid ?? tees, a yardage book, scorecard and a pitch mark repairer, encased within a wee tartan pouch ?? and then it was down to business.
I found out the hard way on the 1st that there are places on the course you just don??t want to be. Namely, in the jungle like thuck stuff. A pathetic feather of a block with a 7 iron landed me in Hell, yielding a disconcerting double bogey to open my account. At this point it looked like we (or at least I) might be in for a long evening.
Chris was a font of knowledge of all things Kingsbarns, given he??s been here since it opened. I was interested to hear from him that nearly every mound you see has come to be not because of nature but thanks to JCB diggers. And that none of the gorse was there before; it was all planted. What sadistic piece of work would go out of their way to plant gorse? Kyle Phillips, that??s who. (Well, Kyle and his mates anyway).
Not many putts dropped but some proper golf shots were being played ?? encouraging after a big day and an even longer week (sounds like an Irish thing to say...). We found the fairways to be wider than expected, and hit driver more often than not. The fact that there was no wind helped too I suspect. Given its location, Kingsbarns could turn into a real nightmare if a gale got its tail up. On this muggy Sunday evening it was benign, despite us making life hard for ourselves by playing from the tips. The usual advice is that 9+ handicappers play from the green tees; 4 to 9 from the whites; and sub 4s from the blacks, if they??re game. Probably sound advice.
There are some quite spectacular vistas from the course, looking out to the North Sea. Equally impressive are the views back up the hill from the rocky beaches to the stately but understated clubhouse and adjacent Saltire Cross flag. Just a wonderful place to look around you really. I can just picture the Americans glowing with enthusiasm here, because it??s a setting so removed from the golf most of them are used to playing. To be sure Kingsbarns isn??t the wildest of places in Scotland ?? there is even a deciduous forest to the right of the 11th hole, home to a population of vicious midges ?? but it??s certainly confronting enough to merit quiet reflection.
Holes like 12 and 15 are Cypress Point-like in their wow factor. Actually 12??s more like Pebble, the 18th to be precise ?? a par 5 with the beach running the entire length of the left hand side. And 15??s like 16 at Cypress, a long par 3 where you play over the water to a green guarded on all sides by salt water, other than short left. The back tee on 16??s something special too ?? a knee knocking carry over the beach once more to a fairway largely hidden by dunes. Hit and hope stuff.
This evening??s round was as relaxing as it gets. Playing Kingsbarns at any time is a special experience, but when you have it to yourself on a Sunday evening ?? and you??ve got a fantastically laid back greenkeeper as your host ?? it??s one in a million stuff. Walking the links in such circumstances, it would be impossible to have a care in the world. As therapeutic as it gets, for me.
Thanks Chris, you??re a legend. Look forward to having a hit out at Paraparam?? in the new year, where hopefully I??ll have some local knowledge on you before you??ve had a chance to sneak ahead!
JP
Quality day out on the links at Elie. Blowing pretty hard, the pro's were struggling out at the Open but we were embracing a new form of golf out here in the fresh air. Check out the video, but again a huge thanks to Elie for having us and a must play if you're in this part of the world playing a bit of golf. A pure old world links course built alongside the township where folk from Edinburgh come to holiday. No par fives, relatively short in places, but more than a few great wee features: random roll offs around the fairways, pot bunkers, plenty of hay, a few stone walls with dreaded OOB beyond them and more than a couple of blind shots. Oh yes, and just a few million dollar sea views. We played quickly as well going through a few groups and getting around in about 3 hours. But in short - watch the Video.
Sans golf, we were through Anstruther the home of the famous chippie (fish and chip store which are the takeaway of choice over here) and then.... to meet our pal Doug! Who has made it all the way from NZ to live over here in Britain and is looking for a job to start his traineeship as a professional golfer. Hopefully we can help him out over the next few weeks as Doug is probably our only friend from home looking for a career in the world of golf and he'd be a great addition to the industry.
As I??ve mentioned in my last couple of posts, this week for me has more than anything been about rekindling old ties. And so it??s only fitting that today??s round would be at Cluny Clays (or Royal Cluny as it??s known to those aware of its pedigree), which is owned by good friends of my parents, Drew & Helen Shedden. Drew and his brother Robbie have a farm on the outskirts of Kirkcaldy, and some years ago diversified the land, out of which came Cluny Clays. Out there you can shoot clay pigeons, air rifles, bow and arrows and everything under the sun. And golf, of course.
We ran into Drew last night at a dinner party ?? he hasn??t changed a bit. Still full of cheeky banter and never short of a word. He was more than happy for us to have a hit at Royal Cluny in the morning, which suited us perfectly given it??s only 9 holes and we were keen to get out to The Open. Stars aligned, thank you very much.
The die hard locals were scheduled to play their weekly medal from mid-morning onwards, but heavy morning rain seemed to have scared most of them away. By the time we arrived the sun was out the clouds having been puffed away by a pretty howling wind. Drew??s son Andrew met us at reception. He??s about a foot taller than last time I saw him, and is thinking of using his Accounting and Finance degree from Glasgow to get a job with one of the big banks in New York. I told him that wasn??t a bad idea; that New York is just an awesome place to be, full of great people and buzzing with atmosphere. You boys over there: if you??re reading this, and looking for a bright young spark to help you out, drop me a line and we??ll get Andrew over in a flash!
I??m not sure whether it was General Drew that designed the course, but whoever it was did a smashing job. It??s carved through rolling farm land and has plenty of eye catching vistas to distract the vacant golfer. There are burns and the odd pond; several old walls; and some bone chillingly thick rough to keep you on your toes. Quirky seems like a flippant description, but it??s maybe as close as I can get.
In strong winds it??s no walk in the park let me tell you. When it??s gusting like it was, and there are a good few blind tee shots, you??ve really got to trust your swing. Or close your eyes and hope for the best. (I opted for the latter, having lost all trust in my swing over the past couple of days ?? I think I left it in Iceland!). Thankfully none of the golden oldies were brave enough to be out ahead of us, so we more or less had the place to ourselves. We played quick smart in just over an hour ?? although it felt like we??d played 18, given the elements and the undulations...
Mike continued his good run and carded 1 under par, a very commendable display of golf indeed. I made up the numbers!
Drew very kindly left an open tab for us to grab a quick toasted sandwich in the café ?? which was humming ?? on our way out. The light is on and burning bright at Royal Cluny: a ??must do? if you??re in the area and looking for a bit of fun and good old fashioned Scottish hospitality. On most days you??d probably catch Herr Shedden too, whom you??ll know when you see (or hear). Introduce yourself and he might even stand you a free toastie after you finish!
After the golf we shot back into Kirkcaldy to pick up a mate from the train station, who??d just come through from Edinburgh. Tim Borren??s just come out from NZ to Scotland to live for a bit. He landed like us on Tuesday, with the same plan in mind: get to The Open. He??s a good golfer in his own right, and hails from Paraparaumu Beach where he plays his golf (like me). In fact it was with Tim and his brother (and Leo, the General Manager) that we played Pram, The Spiritual Home of NZ Golf, back on Day 34. That was one of the fondest memories we have of our New Zealand leg, the night when we walked back out onto the links after dinner with 8 irons in hand and knocked it round under twilight. Anyway we took Tim out to St. Andrews with us and had a good session of golf watching. And all was well.
After a long day we put our heads to rest on a mattress at Marc & Jamie??s place. Marc??s a greenkeeper on The Old Course and returned home recently from New Zealand, where he worked up at Kauri Cliffs over the summer. He contacted us out of the blue some time ago and offered us a bed if we needed one in St. Andrews. When we accepted we had no idea it was a 7 iron away from the 18th green, or that we could park our car in his driveway ?? dream result! He and his girlfriend Jamie are awesome people ?? similar in age to us, and very much on our wavelength ?? so we??ve enjoyed getting to know them and are grateful of their hospitality. Given they loved New Zealand hopefully we??ll be seeing them out there in the next few years and will be able to return the favour. What goes around comes around.
JP
Chisholm Park
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