"JP's guide to overcoming jetlag after the JFK to Shannon redeye - Step 1: Get on the road and head straight... http://t.co/zla8bump" - 12 hours ago
"Irish diaries: having the craic with jolly old ladies - I challenge you lot out there to show me somewhere... http://t.co/BGDcZ6tV" - 16 hours ago
"Touching down in the land of my childhood summers - Within minutes of disembarking Delta 122 I was struck by... http://t.co/YP7x5Ngf" - 21 hours ago
Golly gosh. There could be no better place to capture dandy English gentlemen golfing the links in tweed with their black Labradors than Rye. Here you will find immaculate gents celebrating the game??s best traditions of friendship and, most likely, playing matches. The Captain has the opportunity to play in 84 of ??em during his annum... And here??s the thing: the lot of them are very fine chaps indeed. The other thing: members at Rye have one hell of a course to call their own (two in fact, although we only played the big one). Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, you might say.
Oh and they have quite a catering corps. Lunch in the Rye dining room is a striking affair. Take 50 public school boys; age them 40 to 60 years; dress them up in tweed jackets, checked shirts and club ties; and plonk them in a buffet room with silver cutlery and the odd bottle of wine. Et voila. When you buy your lunch ticket you specify how many courses you??ll be having (this determines what colour ticket you get). Then you treat yourself ?? taking your plate up to the pigeon hole in the corner of the room after each course, naturally. A bit like a very agreeable boarding school. Very, very agreeable.
Again two Lucifers were our hosts ?? Peter Costain and David Pettman. No doubt successful guys in their own right, but they were as unassuming as they were good craic. Syd Murrel whom we??d been staying with (think back to Day 39 at Pukekohe in Nu Zillin...) in Hastings came out to caddy too, given he??s an artisan member of the club and he felt like stretching the legs. Bless him. Peter??s dog Brae made it half a dozen. (His other dog who usually accompanies Peter was sitting this one out, after having bitten his master in the melee of a scrap with another pooch the day prior).
Foursomes again was the name of the game. Rye being one of the remaining 2 ball clubs in England. Good on the members for staying strong ?? a fast game is a good game. And foursomes really is far more fun than four ball golf. I??m a convert. Just don??t give me Ed Bayley as a partner.
In the bar over a preparatory coffee we were introduced to James the Secretary, who was wearing the same tie as me. Well, not exactly the same ?? his had the logo of The Mourne Club, Newcastle; mine was Portadown GC (the club of my grandparents). In any case it struck up a conversation out of which came the fact that James was the Secretary at Royal County Down for 7 years. Given my good grandfather ?? Dr David Thomas Patton ?? was a member there for many years, I asked whether he??d come across Tommy??s troublemaking ways. Of course he had. And for the next couple of minutes we reflected on what a small world it is we live in.
David and I would take on Peter and Michael in a flat match. With a 35 knot wind the scene was set for a good old fashioned skirmish. Which David managed to win without much help from my end. The result is always of little consequence anyway, at least in our world. What mattered was the fact that we had a terrific time out there in the elements. Holes like the postage stamp 2nd and knife edge 4th were more than just a little tricky. In fact the 4th may be one of the hardest par 4s we??ve played all year. The tee shot is akin to landing a punted rugby ball on a gymnastics beam from 60 yards ?? and keeping it there. Curse you Harry Colt! (Harry was the Secretary at Rye early in his career, before his time at Sunningdale).
A highlight of the whole experience was the greens, which at Rye are renowned for their excellence. Particularly in winter, as it happens. A couple of ??em had just been punched, but even they were a pleasure. In wind like we endured, you need to have good greens to have any hope. (N.B. The locals will probably insist that a 35 knot wind is little more than average; that they often play in 50 or more...but Trust Me ?? it was Windy).
At the turn we were warned in good humour but without a hint of falsity that we??d just played the easy nine. Hmmmmmm. They weren??t joking either ?? it really is a stern test, Rye. Sadly the tide wasn??t right in, so we didn??t see sails passing us along the 12th ?? but no doubt on a fine summer??s day it would be quite a picture. Interestingly enough the golf club has also been reclaiming land from the sea, like Royal Dublin. What opened in 1977 as a 9 hole course ?? The Jubilee ?? is now a fully fledged 18 hole layout that the club has pumped a fair bit of money into in recent years. Syd reckoned it??s almost as good as Colt??s big course.
In the changing sheds we came across a couple of familiar faces: Geoff and Martyn, our good hosts at Sunningdale. Geoff was wearing the same jacket, but it??s a good one so he??s excused. He??d also discovered the secret to putting (look at the hole as you swing back and through, not down at the ball), which had instilled a bright spark in his eye. Martyn as ever was looking jolly and full of chat. Great pair of red trousers he was sporting too. I need to kit myself out with some of these English country gent staples...
Then we had Lunch. Which I mentioned above. Despite having put on 10 kilos or so in just a few months, I did not protest when Peter produced my 3 course lunch ticket. ??I??m sure I can manage to fit it all in, thank you?. In a packed dining room we sat, pondering the little and big questions in life alike. Not sure if we came up with any satisfactory answers. More to the point we discussed strategy for The Lucifers?? upcoming NZ Tour ?? a far more productive discussion, I hope. Now Peter and David are armed with information about the ??must see? and ??must do? sights / activities / wineries. If they have anything less than a life changing time I??ll feel personally responsible.
What a brilliant bloody day. Thanks Peter, David and James for your hospitality ?? I leave Rye fatter, humbler and with a few less golf balls. An enhanced love for foursomes golf too. A privilege.
Would have liked to have taken more photos but after a few holes the camera blew away. Here's a shot of Syd and the lads that we took before ducking off to Prince's the next morning...Great human being - thanks Syd and Sandy for your warm hospitality and wonderful cooking...just like being at home.
JP
- this is a note that Jamie wrote or the Kennemar club newsletter.
Geachte vrienden,
I??m Jamie Patton, one of two Kiwi lunatics playing a round of golf every day in 2010, around the world, to raise money for a kids program back home called The First Tee. (Yes, every day...). On Day 286 of our odyssey ?? which kicked off on 1 January in New Zealand ?? we had the pleasure of playing at Kennemer , our first stop in The Netherlands.
This year we??ve had the privilege of experiencing golf in many contrasting settings. Each country we??ve travelled through (New Zealand, Australia, USA, Scotland, Ireland, England, Wales, France, Belgium and The Netherlands) has opened our eyes to the fascinating world of golf: how its traditions can be at the same time so different yet so similar. Kennemer was one of the most interesting stops of the year, without question.
A friend of ours introduced us to the club, and we??re very grateful that he did. Thijs de Greeff came across to play hockey for our club in Wellington, New Zealand last year ?? and given he was such a great guy we??ve kept in touch since. (Thijs got six caps for the Dutch national team, and is also known as ??Wonderkid?). The arrangements were made through the incredibly hospitable Pieter Aalders, whom is the father of a friend of Thijs??. Pieter met us at the club before our tee off and welcomed us warmly to Kennemer .
Both Michael and I were immediately struck by the originality of the clubhouse ?? we??ve seen nearly 300 this year but none like yours! Both the thatched roof and the historic ambience of the club lounge impressed us greatly. As did the delicious coffee and sandwiches we were treated to by Pieter! After a nice chat around the table the time eventually came to make our way to the first tee. It would be just myself, Michael and Thijs playing ?? unfortunately Pieter had other commitments.
We have been fortunate to play several Harry Colt courses this year (most recently, Sunningdale (New), last week), so knew we were in for a treat when Pieter explained Kennemar is one of his Dutch masterpieces (the best one, of course!). Apologies were offered about the condition of the course ?? evidently the greens had just been punched and dressed ?? but we weren??t bothered one bit, and enjoy the course very much anyway. Playing all this golf we are able to see past a course??s condition to the quality of its design, which in Kennemer??s case is very high.
Other than Thijs, we were fortunate to spot another Dutch celebrity, in the form of a famous racing driver (whose name I can neither pronounce nor spell). We also heard the racing track in the distance, but rarely heard the sound of a birdie putt dropping ?? Kennemer 1: Kiwis 0. And the wind was hardly blowing too. While walking onto the 18th green Ronald the caddiemaster approached us with a book in his hand. It was a collection of the top courses in Holland ?? one of which of course is Kennemar; a gift from Pieter. We were so embarassed at this kind gesture, as Mr. Aalder had already been so hospitable before play. Suffice to say it rounded off what had been a wonderful experience, among the most memorable of an action packed year.
From Michael and me ?? a sincere thank you to Pieter Aalder and you, the members of Kennemer , for making our first stop in The Netherlands such an enriching one. If anyone is coming down to New Zealand in the near future, please feel free to contact us if you??d like a game of Kiwi golf! (Our contact details are on our website, www.puregolf2010, through which you are also able to make a donation to our charity ?? The First Tee ?? if you so wish).
Heel veel dank, groeten
I find it hard to imagine that life could be any sweeter for an Englishman than to live and play his golf in Sunningdale.
The most affluent settlement I??ve seen since we left The Hamptons. By far. A club steeped with an atmosphere of, well, privilege. And two of the finest courses we??ve had the pleasure of playing this year. Sunningdale really is The Real McCoy; the most English of English clubs.
Our visit was graciously coordinated by a gentleman whom we met in the R&A Tent at The Open back in July. Marcus Ferguson Jones is a delightful gentleman, and happens to be a pretty sharp golfer in his own right. In fact he finished runner up in the Sunningdale Autumn Medal the day before our visit. When we met him up at St. Andrews, he had been up there trying to qualify as an amateur. Unfortunately Kingsbarns wasn??t kind (enough) to him, so he had to suffer the hardship of just watching the thing. Anyway, we met him over lunch ?? through a mutual friend ?? and before long he??d offered to tee up a game at his home club for us. Which happened to be Sunningdale. Lovely.
Actually Marcus teed up two games: on his counsel, we played both the New and Old. The New??s not that new, by the way. It was laid down by Harry Colt, who was the Secretary at Sunningdale after kicking off his career at Rye. The Old was the fine handiwork of one Willie Park Junior. I dare say there wouldn??t be another club in the world where the members can boast having both a Colt and a Park at their disposal. Apart from anything else, The Sunningdale Lot have 36 holes of dog walking paradise at their disposal too. We must??ve seen a dozen or so hounds of a dozen different flavours, out taking their masters for a stroll.
On this pristine Monday morning the ladies were playing a shotgun start invitational on the Old. Never in my life have I climbed out of the car to such a hubbub of pucker excitement. This was Their day. (Next door is the Sunningdale Ladies Golf Club; Sunningdale proper also has 77 lady members. This lot were from both clubs and beyond, I imagine). Each contestant was decked out to the nines in their Sunday (well, Monday) Best. And each spoke with a more Frightfully Frightfully brogue than the lady before her. No doubt they were all lovely human beings ?? every smile I shot off in the clubhouse was reciprocated ?? but I must admit the sense of occasion was almost unnerving.
Equally unnerving was the predicament I quickly found myself in. I??d arrived bursting at the seams and needing quickly to find a urinal. The pro gave me the code to the visitors?? locker room (upstairs, tucked away in the furthest corner from the stairwell), but it didn??t work. So I??m sprinting back down hill past paintings the size of a small house and into the pro shop, begging for the magic numbers. If y??er man doesn??t deliver second time around, I may be forced to dash into the bushes. Luckily he comes through and composure is restored.
Because there??s hardly another soul in the joint save for The Galvin Greene Brigade, there??s no hurry to tee off. I while away 15 minutes of Nirvana on the putting green ?? perhaps the most magnificent of the year. A brand new sleeve of Pro-v1s is popped to mark the occasion. One of our last sleeves, but there??s no questionning the decision; much as one may light up a Big Fat Cuban walking down the 18th of, say, Cypress or PV. Truly one of life??s pleasures. To one side is the grand old clubhouse; 15 yards away is the Old Oak (immortalised as the club??s infamous logo); at first base is #1 Old; between first and third and in the outfield are 35 holes of Golf Wonderland. The sun??s shining, the greens are rolling with absolute purity, and the odd putt is dropping. I could??ve left a happy man at this point.
Mike??s put together a video with shots of both courses, so I??ll let his iMovie wizardry do the talking on that front. Otherwise we??d all be here for days, wading through my lyrical wax. Suffice to say the morning round ?? a sharpish 3 hours playing around The New ?? was an enchanting experience. Between the heather, the pine, the bright morning sun, the perfect greens, the design, the atmosphere, the odd hound and, of course, the company, well...you get the picture.
Because Marcus couldn??t join us on the day, he organised for his father Martyn to accompany us around The Old. Martyn brought his pal Geoff along too. And Buckley, the most regal golden labrador in The Labrador Kingdom (likely that he??s of royal blood). Geoff??s a Heriots Old Boy, and spends 6 months of the year in Nu Zillin ?? so we had a fair bit in common from the get go. He??s also struggling with his putting at the moment, so we had more in common again... Our four had a pint in the members?? bar before play, whence we came across one Michael Lynagh who lives next door and who??d brought his father along for a game. The Lynagh Lads were in the group behind us, and played through at the 10th while we were ingesting possibly the most magnificent bangers and mustard ever consumed. And a gin and tonic (at Sunningdale, why not?). We spoke briefly at the time, but Goldy got a proper chance to speak with his childhood idol later on back in the bar. Tickled pink he was (Michael Goldstein, that is).
After nigh on every blow Buckley??s stick was hurtled off into the distance. Buckley would give chase and ?? with the prowess of a Golden Retriever ?? retrieve said stick, dropping it in front of Martyn. While one of us was over the ball, Buckley would lie down dead still, not so much as moving a lung until the shot was complete. He exhibited more discipline than a 14-year-old Chinese girl during exam week. On several tees Buckley would lead the advance party, darting forward onto the middle of the mown block; he knows when he gets ??a throw.? I forget which holes they were, but obviously he doesn??t.
puregolf2010 took on The Old Guard and (largely thanks to Geoff??s jetlag ?? he??d only landed 15 hours prior on the long haul from NZ) managed to come out on top. Of course we??d had the advantage of warming up in the morning. And being the gracious hosts that they were, Martyn and Geoff probably let us win too. In The Press ?? this time Geoff and I paired up ?? I ruined the makings of a happy friendship by missing a 4 footer for par on the last. My excuse being distraction a la Old Oak.
The afternoon was a rather surreal experience. Bart??s figure emerged from the trees on 17 (he??d just rejoined the tour after a 36 hour hiatus up the road in London); I??m glad he got a short glimpse into The Sunningdale Experience, because the purity of it all is difficult to capture. In the members?? bar we were summoned to have a ginger beer with a trio of gentlemen parked at the window seat. On the left was the most French Frenchman in Le Monde: beige blazer, open neck white shirt with collar turned up to the ceiling, brightly coloured handkerchief tucked with casual indifference into the breast pocket, round tortoise shell glasses and a mop of ruffled brown hair. Jacques, we will call him for now (I??ve lost his actual name). In the centre sat Nicholas Royds, who may well have seen Queen Victoria on the throne. (His surname sticks in the mind because his pals took us through some gag about how there??s haemerrhoids, steroids, and myriad other -roids, but only one Nicholas Royds). In his crisp green Pine Valley blazer Nicholas looked quite the picture. I suspect he??d be the sort of character that might frustrate one or two others, only in that he??s a member of both Sunningdale and PV but no longer plays golf! To the right was John, who belonged to the ??very old? Oxford & Cambridge Golf Society. An idiosyncratic threesome.
Happily we had the opportunity to thank the Secretary for his hospitality before leaving (he too was in the bar, entertaining a couple of guests). Nice guy. Then we took advantage of the best showers in Golf England (perhaps equal top with Goodwood) before leaving with heavy hearts. Sunningdale really is Another World, a world I could happily return to time and time again.
JP
Up next on the roster was Burnham & Berrow Golf Club on the South West Coast of England some 45 minutes South of what has been base camp at Bristol. After waking up to a few plumming dramas at the abode of JP??s cousin, Ross & Rachel??s house we headed south ?? to continue our loop around England, manager Bart (Doug) in tow, and met our hosts for the day, Euan Bremner & Richard Read.
These two lads are partners in a corporate law firm based out of Bristol and had taken the day out to entertain us. The connection was through our mate Zyg from up at Royal Aberdeen so this blogpost inadvertently gives me a chance to recall the now infamous stories of Zyg and his shanks on that picture perfect day at Balgownie that is forever stuck in my memory. That day Zyggie and SP entertained us like no other & after 12 hours at the club we had enough stories to fill a book ?? probably an R-rated book. So when Zyg jacked up his mate Euan (formerly from the old stomping ground at Aberdeen) to play with us we knew we were in for a fun day. Euan had made the connection with his workmate Richard who is a member at B&B and thus the plan was hatched.
We broke the ice over a coffee, a breakfast bap and a few stories, many involving Zyg and a place called Magaloof. These stories are not for public consumption.
After playing a few more local courses over the last week Burnham & Berrow was a real treat. A pure out-and-back links along the coastline and through the dunes. The turf was good and the greens pure. As JP would say, the stars were aligned.
We also had some local help at hand ?? in the form of Frank ?? a member who was once upon a time from NZ until he immigrated to these parts in 1956.
B&B is another course that has been blessed with the touch of Harry Colt, but also had input from Dr MacKenzie during the 20??s. One of the great professionals, James Taylor, also plied his trade here as a pro for 16 months before he went on to bigger and better things (namely winning 5 Open championships, designing a number of courses and being part of the great triumvirate). How is that for some name dropping?
It was a classic day out really. Four guys all playing some good golf, some average golf but generally talking the way around the golf course caring little about putts missed, shots shanked and balls lost. Don??t get me wrong there were some fine golfing moments such as Euans 320 yard drive on the par five 8th hole.. Actually I can??t go past his tee shot on the 7th?? You see, Euan had started his pre-shot routine ?? a serious pre-shot routine for a serious 19 handicap golfer. Yet Rick wanted to tell him the line to hit it between the bunkers on the left and the hazard right. This wasn??t an easy tee shot and definitely not one the prudent golfer would go at guns blazing with the driver. So Rick wandered up to point the direction, standing mere inches from Euans ball teed up between the pegs. ??You see, don??t go too far right? Rick said, ??as there is a ?. WHACK? ?. and with that Rick was interrupted by an almighty swing by Euan the swoosh of the club felt on his leg as the titanium driver barely missed Rick??s left leg. We all got the fright of our lives and looked up, laughter everywhere, only to be shocked to see the ball sailing straight down the middle to position A1. ??Don??t interrupt me in my pre-shot routine? chipped Euan, clearly stoked that impulsiveness had paid off for him on this occasion. The blighter won that hole knocking a sand wedge to a few feet to make a 4 net 3. But, despite Rick??s reliable swing leading him nowhere but straight all day, the match was going our way, match fitness and all prevailing for the kiwi boys who rarely get paired together but on this occasion dovetailed to perfection with 7 birdies spaced out across the round.
The back nine was always going to be more difficult as the wind was unrelentingly in our faces and any golfer knows you need to be on Top Form to come home with consistency in these conditions. Bogeys were made but the banter continued all the way to the clubhouse, where our resolution to stay off the beers was broken as we yarned over a pint.
Not having anywhere to stay Euan invited us back to Bristol. So much for continuing our journey south but it did make sense rather than all try and find something further down the coast at this late stage in the day. Actually Doug had been making some calls in his managerial role, but so far had lucked out (that is lucked out in NZ terminology?? eg unlucky, as opposed to in the US lingo). The decision to go back to Bristol also made great sense later that night when we were out in the pubs having a whale of a time with our man Euan. Although I think Rick was still on the side of the motorway trying to change his tyre!! He thought he had it fixed thanks to us stopping and puregolf2010 manager/ mechanic Doug putting the spare tyre on, but we??ve subsequently found out Doug made a balls up of that and Rick was there some time fixing it?.
Needless to say after a cracking night of banter with Euan we woke up the following day braced for a very long drive to Westwood Ho and feeling a little bit sorry for ourselves. But Burnham & Berrow ?? one of the best in England so far. Thanks lads for arranging this ?? thanks for making the connection Zyg and thanks Frank for showing us the ropes. This time, we??re finally out from Bristol ?? next stop Cornwall!
Sir mae. The original plan was to play 3 or 4 days in Wales, across Ryder Cup weekend. Original plans don??t always come to fruition though. In the world of puregolf2010 they seldom do. purerollingwiththepunches2010. Plan B involved playing a solitary round in The Land of St David, at none other than Southerndown, on Ryder Cup Friday. With a local chap named Lynn Dunster ?? certainly the most Welsh Welshman I??ve ever met; a real character.
Weather forecasters predicted heavy precipitation for the Porthcawl area, but it was only spitting when we passed through Southerndown??s gates. (As a side note, the turn off to the golf club is made when you see possibly the most fantastically named pub in the world, The Pelican In Her Piety!). The course lies up on a hill overlooking Wales?? highest ranked course (Royal Porthcawl) and Europe??s largest Caravan park (haven??t the foggiest). Lynn pointed out other interesting sites too, like old mines and the like. There??s a lot of history around these parts.
Having got caught up in the Ryder Cup traffic coming out of Bristol we were 5 minutes late, but Lynn didn??t seem to mind. Time rolls by at a different pace in Wales, it seems. Without further adieu our trio made our way to the 1st tee ?? past a few sheep ?? and got to work. Straight away you??re confronted with a steeply uphill opening par 4 that on this occasion was directly into the wind too. I pulled 2 iron for prudence (there is gorse lining both sides) but hardly made the carry to the fairway. From there it was my Sunday best 2 iron again to even get close to the green. Michael and I looked at each other with mutual understanding that we could be in for a test.
Lynn may be one of the greatest storytellers I??ve ever met; perfect company on a gloomy day in Wales. Up the 1st hole he was telling us about people he??s caddied for (something he does in his spare time, because he??s a sociable creature and likes the company) and a bit about the surrounding area. On the 2nd he told Goldy he had ??about 270? to the green for his second ?? an analysis I thought to be questionable at best, particularly when Goldy hit a 4 iron to the front of the green. Over the next few holes we came to realise that his yardages were more indicative of whether the shot was a long one or a short one; the numbers themselves didn??t really bear any resemblance to the actual distance from the flag! I??d almost look forward to Mike asking for a yardage, to hear what Lynn would bark out...God Bless Him. Another endearing attribute of Lynn??s was his pronunciation of the word ??hear? - which sounded more like ??yur?. Having only met one or two Welshman I can only assume this is how they all say it.
By the 3rd the rain started falling in spades. In the spirit of hyperbole, I??ll say it was the heaviest rain of the year. It may well have been. I didn??t even have my waterproof trousers with me either. Nor did the rain clouds relent; they kept rolling and rolling in, all the way until about the 16th ?? by which time we were drenched to the core. Comedic is one word for it. Lynn was ever unflappable, and the heavier the rain got the more encouraged he appeared to be to share a story or two.
Despite the monsoon the golf course, as far as I could make out, was quality. The greenkeepers (a herd of sheep) had done a tremendous job in preparing the course for Ryder Cup tourism as well. However we caught them slacking off in a valley adjacent to the 4th green, pretending to ??clear bracken? being their explanation. [This author has it on good authority that they have subsequently been disciplined ?? although each of the herd retained their employment].
Lynn ?? who reminded me of that bald character in Auf Wiedersehen Pet! ?? had a new story to tell each hole. The first one I can remember centres around a chap he used to caddy for, a good golfer whose initials unfortunately are the same as mine (JP ?? I won??t mention his full name). Well, this JP got caught ?? after several warnings from the local constabulary to clean his act up ?? dressed up in women??s clothes in the golf club lavatory doing things with another man that he shouldn??t have! (I think his membership was suspended and he may even have ended up in the slammer).
Then there was the story of Lynn??s good friend who sadly passed away, his dying wish being that his ashes be scattered on the 10th green (it??s a particularly scenic hole). His wish was granted, but no sooner had the family marched back down the hill towards the clubhouse, than a vigilant assistant greenkeeper (this time, a human one) spotted what he thought was some sand that had blown out of the greenside bunker. So he sucked it up with one of those leaf gatherers. Oh dear.
If Lynn to us appeared quite the rascal, his pal Charlie would be in a class of his own. This lad??s a butcher, and for a certain ladies competition one year donated a whole chicken as a prize. Except, it??s what he did with the chicken that is the interesting bit. While all the ladies were out on the course battling it out, Charlie inserted the (raw) chicken into the tea tanker ?? from which the girls would drink their tea later that day, and for weeks to come! When the prank was uncovered, Charlie was suspended for 3 months from the club!
I could go on, but I will bore you no longer. By the time we reached the 18th green we were weary from the elements and had sore abdominals from laughing (his visual depiction of one of the golf club staff as a Walrus nearly spelled the end). If anyone??s going to Southerndown, make sure you ask whether Lynn??s available to caddy ?? a once in a lifetime experience.
In the clubhouse ?? which is full of interesting memorabilia ?? we had designs to watch a spot of the big match going on down the road. Except it wasn??t going on (surprise, surprise: Celtic Manor??s cut in a clay valley). So we had sausages, beans and chips to warm the pipes up and a pint of the local stuff (Brains, not bad); and chatted some more. Our only experience of Welsh hospitality could not have been any better. Lynn Dunster, you made our day.
JP (not the one that wears women??s clothes and gets up to mischief with other men in golf club toilets)
A troubling phenomenon has been creeping into puregolf2010 of late ?? something that we??ve hardly encountered this year, thanks be to y??er man in the sky. I??m talking about waking up without a game of golf arranged. I remember it happening on our last day out on Long Island, the day we were flying via Iceland to Gatwick and on to Edinburgh. That was stressful with a capital S (Stressful). Now ?? as a result of having far too much fun in Ireland with those sociable Irish folk people ?? planning for the English leg isn??t as advanced as, well, it could be. Many games are organised, but not all of ??em. Today was one of those latter days, but thankfully a club came to the rescue in our time of need. Moseley GC in suburban Birmingham is thus our rather unexpected Fairy Godmother. May the sun always shine on its staff and members, and everyone??s putts drop for eternity.
It was something of a culture shock approaching Jim Murray??s apartment last evening, as we wound through the arteries flowing from the fragrant organ that is The Curry Mile. Not one fair skinned soul did we see in 10 minutes. I??d like to make clear that I have no problem whatsoever with this (hell, I??m an immigrant myself!), but only mention the fact as it took me so aback. I like the smell of curry too ?? it being a favourite belly filler, particularly in the winter time, with the hockey lads ?? so the experience was by no means an unpleasant one! In time we arrived at Jim??s place ?? Jim being a Consultant Haematologist at the University Hospital of Birmingham, who worked with my Uncle Nigel before Nigel took the plunge and emigrated (captaining the first Patton boatload) to sunny Nu Zillin. They??ve kept in touch and remain friends, despite the fact that Nigel??s been 16 years in the wilderness. At the eleventh hour I emailed my Uncle (who has helped out on several occasions this year, God Bless Him), explaining that we had nowhere to stay in Birmingham and enquiring whether he might know someone who could put us ruffians up for a night. Hence Jim, who was a gentleman.
Jim must??ve been somewhat bemused by the ruffled nature of our existence (and predicament, re golf). Nonetheless he was kind enough to take us out for a delightful (yes, you guessed it) curry and open a bottle of French white back at base camp, which we quaffed into the evening until we could quaff no more. I was quite taken with the volume and (apparent) quality of the literature lining his myriad bookshelves. A learned man, obviously.
After thanking Jim for his most kind hospitality we ventured a mile or so around the corner to Moseley GC, which is tucked away as if to prevent anyone from ever finding the place. I suspect it??s the members?? jealously guarded little slice of old world nirvana. And well it should be. For Moseley ?? we had no idea what to expect ?? is a delight; the sort of course you could happily play every Wednesday until you take in your final breath. (A couple of the members we met looked like their final breath may be coming soon, so my theory may indeed be accurate ?? they appeared entirely content with life).
??Twas just the trio of us (Bartos being the third, as will be the case from time to time from here on in). On the 1st you tee off from under an ancient oak (?) tree. A very nice tree it was too. The sort of tree that lingers in one??s memory, clearly.
A quite extraordinary thing happened on the 2nd. Bart after getting mixed up with foliage was about to play his 3rd from the rough, under trees, about 100 yards out. All of a sudden, a shifty looking chap meandered from the shadows and stood not 3 yards behind Bart??s ball, watching with interest as Bart tried to salvage what was left of the hole. Not a word; not so much as a moment??s eye contact. Just a perplexing display of curiosity. Of course, we got on the phone instantly to the course steward, and had the man shot. He won??t be troubling no one else no more.
On a more serious note, a rather plush cricket ground ?? white picket fence and all ?? lies just over the out of bounds on the third. It was the sort of oval you might find at a public school where the combined income of a J1 team??s fathers would trump most African nations?? GDP. We discovered later, when talking to some of the old guard outside on the patio, that the Golf Club actually owns the cricket ground. So there you go ?? another useless piece of information for you. Good for them.
Just as at Lytham the other day, the encroachment of the odd brick house into sight was no black mark. On the contrary, because it was just a glimpse here and there, I felt it added to the club??s Spot-of-Solitude-In-The-Suburbs character. The fourth hole was a fine example of this dynamic. A downhill par 3 playing 200 yards or so through a clearing in the deciduous skyline. Tranquil indeed.
Moseley had a little bit of Washington Golf & Country Club about it. The odd Donald Ross-like green complex; sharp changes in undulation, at times; and not a lot of space. I??d say it??s the sort of course good golfers feel they should beat, but get ankle tapped when they try too hard. A health warning for anyone visiting for the first time, unaccompanied: if you don??t know which way the dogleg goes, don??t guess! You might think that??s common sense. You??d probably be right. Us young bucks just love to hit driver though when a hole is sub-330. Putting for eagle brings a thrill other putts just don??t give you. Speaking of which, Bart rolled one in on 18 under the watchful eye of Dad??s Army. Never being shy to throw his arms up in celebration, Bart lit up Moseley for a short 5 seconds of excitement. A lovely moment.
Our plan was to zip away sharp-ish in order to beat the school run. It was 2.45 and we wanted to get to Bristol in less than 6 hours. However. Friends we??d come across out on course (we came off the 1st green as they were teeing off on 12) stopped us and demanded that we join them on the patio for a refreshment. Despite violent protestations we eventually acquiesced. At first I gave Earl Grey Tea as my order (after 27 days in Ireland spent drinking not much else other than the black stuff, save for milk on my cereal (most of the time)); but this very pucker Birminghamite (that??s the proper noun I??m going to use despite the fact that it??s almost certainly wrong) would not have a bit of it. When I said tea, all he heard was a pint of ale. Real ale. The best kind. Having worked for several years in a microbrewery in Christchurch set up by a couple of Anglo ex-pats I??ve developed an appreciation for a good drop of bitter, and this was a good drop indeed. Shame I can??t remember its name, but you??ll just have to take my word for it.
On this Thursday morning we??d awoken without a game of golf to play. By late afternoon we??d had the pleasure of visiting Moseley GC in Birmingham ?? a visit that proved to be a real treat, rewarding in every way. On this note we must repeat the debt of gratitude we owe to the good people at the club, for keeping puregolf2010 on track. Much obliged, my friends. Ditto to the old boys who were so kind in refreshing us for our journey down the M6. A short visit ?? Birmingham ?? but a great one.
JP
This week we??ve had a few lessons on the geography of the Lancashire Coast in England??s North West. Manchester, Liverpool & Preston are all twin cities and pretty much blur into one and this being a very heavily populated part of the world means that getting to and fro each coastal golf course has had its moments. We??ve had two bases for the week, Wayne & Gail??s place on the west of Manchester, and with Charlie and Vera Donald in Southport. The destination for today was equidistant of the two, south of Liverpool at Hoylake. So the plan was hatched that we??d stay with Wayne & meet Charlie at the course at 745 sharp before heading back to Southport to stay for the next couple of nights.
So it was up at 520am & farewell to the family before we hit the road by 6, JP singing you'll never walk alone at the top of his lungs and the tank well and truly at sixes and sevens. Firstly she wouldn??t start, and then we drove along with our broken window flapping as I struggled to look out through the crack in the windscreen. Fortunately we??d allowed for plenty of time and after a congestion free ride down the M58 & M6 we pulled into the township of Hoylake well before 730am to a deserted clubhouse.
The course at Hoylake, of course, was Royal Liverpool and this would be our third Open Championship venue in the last four days. At last count this was our 10th course we've played to host the Open and hopefully by the time we leave these fair shores we would have had a crack at 'em all. Pulling into the car park I was taken by the formality of the club as the clubhouse sits grandly covered in ivy and the memorabilia almost pours out from the walls inside.
Our host for the day, who had arranged the game early before an invitation tournament was to close the course the rest of the day, was [ a proud member named Michael, a local lawyer whose family practice has gobbled up a few firms over the years and now is about the size of our old stomping grounds back in NZ.
Lets talk about Hoylake, the course which has recently got back on the Open roster since 40 years or so in the wilderness and hosted the 2006 Open where Tiger triumphed by hitting 2 iron all week off the tee. Hoylake was founded in 1869 on what was then the racecourse of the Liverpool Hunt Club. The majority of the layout is what was laid out by Harry Colt in the early 20th century. Since Colt's work the course has seen a number of changes, and our host Michael, being a long serving member of the club was able to tell us about much of the history of the routing of the course.
What was still close to mind was the week of the 2006 Open where the famed winds did not blow but the course was set up hard and fast, far more difficult than the softer conditioning we experienced and what the members are used to. Michael told us there was so much roll that all of the par fives were easily reachable in two (making it effectively a par 68 and so no-one beat the course). Today we were fortunate enough to have a whirl from the championship tees and with a light breeze getting up the course played long but was very fair.
The course has its share of quirks such as the internal out of bounds around the practice ground to the right of both the 1st and 16th holes. Both these holes bend at almost 90 degrees around the practice ground (which for the Open becomes a tent village making the OOB far less imposing). The first is "Prestwick style" daunting ?? on both the tee shot and the approach shot the OOB looms directly on the right ?? it is barely 5 feet from the edge of the green! During the Open the course started on the 17th hole, and so it wasn??t the first and second swings of the day that those boys had to hold their nerve 7 not go right to prevent a disaster start.
Internal out of bounds used to be more of a quirk here when it was originally built around the racecourse and the club didn??t own all the land, but over time this issue has subsided and now the only internal OOB is the aforementioned practice ground. The best way to understand the internal OOB by the practice ground is to look at this overhead photo:
[a profile view of the first green - see how close the OOB is]
The bunkering here is quality, like other open venues and any links course worth its salt. The two biggest factors you need to control around a flat and exposed links like this are your line, and your trajectory. If you get the ball running at the bunkers, it will invariably go in. If you hit it high in the wind - you're in the hands of the golfing gods. Below is an indication of the bunkering - in this instance around the green of the short par four second hole.
For the Open a few championship tees were used to really stretched the course out. The first such tee was on the stroke one, 490 yard par four 5th hole where neither Jamie or I could reach the fairway with our drives. But we both escaped the gorse left and right and from just short of the fairway I knocked a 3-wood onto the green and made birdie which felt like eagle.
[the view from the championship tee on 5]
[the 5th green complex. The simplicity of the greens is a feature here]
The next hole has a brilliant blind tee shot over a hedge with out of bounds left. Not knowing what awaits us at the fairway is a feeling we have become well & truly used to after playing 270 new courses in a row so it was a case of head down and good contact over the stake.
The par three 7th hole was remodeled some years ago. The old hole was polarizing ?? from what I understood there was a road and out of bounds directly to the left of the green such that a shot hit even on the green would often roll out of bounds. The staunchest supporter of the old hole had actually made a score of 12 there during one medal round but he still stood by the hole through numerous deliberations at the club as to whether it should be changed. Now this hole is normalized into a state where the course can host a modern Open Championship. Still, I would have loved to see and play the old 7th to see what all the fuss was about!
The stretch from 9 through 12 plays along the coastline with the Welsh coast and a huge windfarm framing the panoramic view. These holes play with the prevailing wind coming from the left and are a great stretch. 9 is an old fashioned sunk green, something not ordinarily seen on a modern championship course, 10 is a strong par four to an elevated green with a huge roll-off right, 11 is a long par three to a green amongst the dunes, and 12 is Tiger??s hole ?? a 450 yard par four through fairway bunkers to an elevated green perched on the perimeter of the property with all kinds of trouble (read the ocean) left and again a severe roll off right. It??s Tiger??s hole because he knocked a 2 iron, 4 iron into the hole to make eagle 2 here en route to his victory in ??06. Trying to emulate him I managed my flushest two strikes in a month to hit 2 iron, 6 iron to 20 feet and saw the putt drop for a memorable birdie. Such shots have been few and far between of late as my scoring average has increased by almost 10 shots per round as fatigue ?? both mental and physical, and a dodgy swing have got the better of me since leaving Scotland. Today was like going back in time a couple of months and there was some semblance of consistent ball striking. Unfortunately for Michael and I, the opposition of Charlie and JP were dovetailing beautifully and the match was quickly getting out of our grasp. Charlie, after his putting woes of the last couple of days had resisted temptation to resort to his old side saddle style and was starting to roll one or two in.. that cheered up the old bugger - he's a competitive chap and doesn't like losing!
[the old fashioned sunk 9th green. Blind from the fairway unless you can bomb it well down the left]
[looking back down the 10th hole]
[the par three 11th - the ocean in the backdrop]
[from both the tee and the green on the classy 12th hole]
After the par three 13th (which rounds off a solid set of par threes all of different distances and all which play to different directions of the compass) the course loses a tad of momentum. 14 and 15 are up and back and very flat with the defense being the wind and the pot bunkers (although 15 is one of few greens on the curse with a tiered green) and could do with a couple more strategically placed bunkers. 16 is an interesting par five played at right angles around the practice ground (see the aerial photograph above coming back towards you) such that if you take the racing line down the right your second will be all carry across the out of bounds and onto the green. A daunting hole where you could easily make a 3 or 7.. 17 and 18 are out and back par fours from the clubhouse, 17 with a new green replacing what was once the Lancashire equivalent of the road hole where the road was immediately beside the green ?? but health and safety got the better of that quirk and now the new Hawtree designed green has plenty going on but doesn??t push my buttons. Didn't help that on this green it was caps off and hand shakes all around as Michael and I were finally put out of our misery.
[charlie knocking it on the green on the 16th]
As we were walking down the 18th attention turned to the clubhouse where gentlemen from across the North-East of the USA had congregated to take part in a match with the locals. Michael informed me he had another round to play this afternoon, followed by 2 the following day - now that's commitment! So in we went to shower up and tour the clubhouse. We saw all kinds of memorabilia from Tiger's nike bladed 2 iron to celebrations of Bobby Jones' triumph in the 1930 Open here en route to his famous grand slam victory.
In the bar we were meeting other traveling golfers left right and centre from clubs such as Myopia, Brookline, Pine Valley and Somerset Hills. And who would we see from Somerset Hills but our host from that fine day a couple of months back, the great Rory Corrigan - the legend who the day after our round took Dodgy for an early morning drive, on his 60th birthday no less, to meet us for a quick coffee before our sleep deprived but extraordinarily memorable round at Plainfield (it's a long story but I encourage you to work your way back through the blog roll to read all about it). It's a small world this wide world of golf - and Rory is one of those champions that just epitomise the collegiality of it all. We had a team hug & wished Rory well for his afternoon match (I believe he was captaining the side for the afternoon). [Postscript - I have just heard that today Rory, John Miller (from Plainfield) and Slambino have been out golfing together which is very cool]
And with that I must bring this rant to an end. Hoylake was epic - an absolute must play course for any golfer. Thanks to Michael for looking after us, and a huge thank you to Charlie for rounding up his lads from the Mersey to help us with this week.
After the past couple of days at Birkdale and Lytham ?? the ??Royals?, both Open Championship links ?? Charlie took us down to his club, Formby, which has riches of a different character. I??d describe it as heathland. And what a phenomenal piece of ground they have there too: enough for a championship course and an equally mouth watering (but shorter) track for the girls that plays inside Big Brother. The club has an illustrious history to boot, and a rather proper atmosphere. How they let riff raff like Charlie in I??ll never know. He changes his shoes in the car park in defiance of The Rools, but suggested we take ours inside ?? as if he??d carved a niche for himself as an outlaw, Lone Ranger, and didn??t want us encroaching on his turf! You gotta love this guy.
Charles ?? like a short tempered army Major, or a despotic boarding house tutor ?? gave us a wake up call (we were staying at Chateau Donald up in Southport). The three musketeers packed down the biggest feast of muesli and marmalade smothered toast you have Ever seen. Anticipation levels were high. I was excited to see that England does actually have sky above the clouds. And it??s ?? you won??t believe this folks... ?? blue! Yes, it was a bluebird day to rival the most crisp of Christchurch winter mornings. Delighted.
Formby like Lytham is tucked away down a residential street in suburbia, just next to a train station (Freshfields?). To minimise the risk of us getting lost we all travelled together ?? a decision also driven by the ulterior motive / desire to travel in style (Charlie has a sharp Audi that??s not packed to the rafters with the sort of things you??d find in a student flat: wet clothes, food wrappers, empty bottles, etc). The man drives like a lunatic. No, I??m kidding: just wanted to get a wee jab in; Charlie and I being fellow Scots like to tear strips off each other.
Y??er man had arranged for another Michael to make up a four. Naturally the Michaels were paired together in what would prove to be a formidable team. The Scots not for the first time (and not for the last) failed to offer much resistance, save for a few satirical verbal knifings and the odd expletive.
Right away we were confronted with heather, pine and sand. Set against the piercing blue of the seldom visible sky, it was quite a picture. At this point in the morning shadows were cast long too, giving an early bird feel to proceedings (even though it was 8 o??clock). Here??s the view from the 2nd tee, to give you an idea. (Incidentally this hole has, I think, one of the tougher greens in England to hit).
Charlie being a staunch believer in the principle that golf clubs should strive to always improve their course, and worry less about all the trimmings like a new members?? lounge, was frequently asking us how we thought a hole could be altered for the better. ??And for f**k sake, be honest?, he??d caveat. The man reminds me of why it can be so endearing to be Scottish.
As we were teeing off on the par 5 3rd hole, a few dog walkers (if you could call them that; they were being walked by wooly mammoth-like St. Bernards and the like) paced across in front of us. I??m not sure they had the foggiest idea that the path they were treading ran straight through the middle of a golf course. If they did know, there wasn??t the slightest indication that they cared one bit for their safety. This is a feature of English golf that we??ve come to notice with surprise, an occurrence that happened yesterday at Lytham too. Walkers must have right of way. Which seems illogical to me given golfers are the most important creatures on this earth.
Holes like the short par 4 4th (above) were a delight: clever bunkering very much making Strategy the name of the game. Charlie questioned the merit of the couple of ??new? holes (i.e. 25 years old or so) ?? 7 and 8 ?? but I thought they were rather good. (In times gone by there were apparently a few great holes playing right down to the sea, but these had to be scrapped due to erosion). The 7th (pictured below) is a pretty classy short-ish par 4 if you ask me: a tee shot that??s not as tight as it looks and an approach that??s longer than it looks. Sure, you can get blocked out if you take the wrong line, but so you well should for being so careless. The hole had atmosphere.
8 equally was a par 5 (stroke index 1) that gives you options. Mike (or ??Sick Boy?, as he??s now known) knocked two phenomenal shots to 8 feet, proving it can be reached. From the tee it??s a case of pick your line, depending on how aggressive you want to be. Then you can go for it if you??re long enough or lay up and still have a good chance at birdie. The green is a McKenzie one though, so if you get on the wrong tier then 2 putt is very unlikely (as Charlie proved). Again, it had atmosphere.
Here??s a photo of the 9th, which ?? for mine ?? is one of the few holes that could be improved. As you can see, Goldy gets right on his tip toes even with a 2 iron!
Below is the view down to the sea, to where a few of the old holes played. From the horizon a par 5 came towards the point I was standing, and then around to the right, to where the current 10th green is (now a par 3).
Canny fairway bunkering on the 11th below. I was in the left hand one, from which par is only a dream. A distant one at that. By this point the Michaels were beginning to strengthen their grip on the match, Michael Senior rolling in putts from everywhere (as he??s prone to doing, per Charlie).
On the 17th tee, just after the match concluded, Charlie pointed through the woods to a gargantuan house the owner of which is something of a ??character?. He bought all the houses around him and knocked them down so he could build a big adventure playground for his kids. On Saturdays they can be heard darting around on their little quad bikes while members try to hold their nerve on the tee! He installed CCTV in the woods as well, obviously to catch out any badgers or foxes that feel the urge to use the playground facilities under the cover of dark.
17 and 18 are two picturesque finishing holes; on both your eye is drawn towards the very regal looking clubhouse ahead. One feels like one is playing somewhere special.
Michael Snr looked pleased as punch with his victory inside the shed as he munched down the fruits of his labour: Cumberland sausage with dipping mustard. Every Sunday morning the loser(s) pays for the sausages. It was a pork pie with Branston pickle that caught my fancy, although the sausage was a delight. Our 4 became 5 when Alan, a friend of theirs who lives next door, popped in to join us for a pow wow. Y??er man was a Walker Cup player a year or three ago, and had some famous victories in the (British) Amateur Championship, stories of which we had to draw out of him with torturuous techniques that would rival even the most sadistic of Japanese wartime rituals ?? such was the modesty of the man.
A famous morning had by all. Golf was followed by a drool laden power nap at Chateau Donald, then we nipped back to Wayne??s in Manchester for a(n extended) family dinner. Gayle??s roast potatoes may be the best spuds I??ve ever had. And I??ve had a few spuds in my time... (As a child, it was the only vegetable I ate ?? at about 15 years old I ventured into onions and eggplant, and now can wolf down the whole veggie garden, save for brussel sprouts and cauliflower ?? just so you know).
JP
It was a very warm welcome to Northern Ireland by our hosts, Hugh & Grace Taggart, with whom we??d be spending the next two nights with on the outskirts of Belfast.
Hugh had contacted us a couple of months back inviting us to stay and arranging our golf at the Royal Belfast Golf Club and it has been very comforting knowing we??ve had the first game of golf in Northern Ireland arranged well in advance. The connection? Hugh is good mates with Norman Patton, Jamie??s fathers cousin, who we met up with for dinner in Ponte Vedra when we were staying with Mark and Nancy and playing at Sawgrass, visiting The First Tee HQ and the World Golf Village. That was a whirlwind time.
My initial thoughts of Belfast are that it feels like home. It is lush and the roads, cars and general feel is similar to back in New Zealand. First impressions are of course far from a determinative opinion on a place but you could definitely sense we had landed in a different country. Hugh and Grace did not disappoint in living up to the adage that folk here in Ireland are the friendliest in the world. They were fantastic hosts.
Hugh reminded me at times of my grandfather back in NZ who, along with my late grandmother, both had roots in Northern Ireland. Some mannerisms were the same and Hugh was particular to make sure everything was perfect whilst I kept saying, as laid back kiwis do, ??it??s sweet as thanks??. Traveling this much you have simple wants and needs ?? a good bed, good company and a golf course somewhere in close proximity! Perhaps the bed was a bit too good as I managed to sleep in until around 1030 leaving a perfectly laid out breakfast (and first meal in Ireland) to wait downstairs.
The Golf
Early afternoon we made the short drive down the road and the stately entrance way to the Royal Belflast Golf Club. We??d met a few chaps from here way back at Royal Aberdeen when Zyg and Graeme (aka S.P.) led us astray for the day (and night) and we ended up in the Aberdeen township in the early hours of the morning with a number of the traveling Royal Belfast golf team. A couple of guys walked past saying a cheery g??day but I must admit it was difficult to remember all 20 guys names from that night!
Hugh had arranged the local Bangor paper to come down and so we had a couple of photographs and then it was off to the first tee along with our playing partner John. Hugh and I teamed up and after some serious handicapping calculations we were away.
The golf course has recently hosted the British Girls Open Amateur Championships, which Grace ?? as Ladies captain ?? had a huge involvement with. Sounded like she did a fine job and the course was still in pristine condition.
The first couple of holes are very strong par fours. And the first green has a tilt from back to front that gave us a real shock to the system. We??ve been playing on the generally flat links greens in Scotland and on these courses the green staff can??t make the greens rapid because the wind will blow that ball off the greens. But the greens at the parkland style Royal Belfast course had no such restrictions and they were absolutely rapid. A good couple of feet quicker than anything we??d played on in Scotland ?? even Loch Lomond. So the first few holes we were trying to adjust our short game. On the second I hit a chip that looked OK, only to see it roll through the green and into the deep greenside bunker on the other side! Jamie gave himself 6 foot return putts almost every hole on the front nine. Neither of us learnt in a hurry that we needed to hit the ball below the hole. A seemingly short course, designed by Harry Colt, Royal Belfast had plenty of defense in the form of its green complexes and surrounding bunkers ?? particularly with the course running at this speed (and a significant wind blowing). Don??t get me wrong, you could score here and the greens were receptive to the odd well struck iron shot, but you have to keep the ball below the hole. The story goes that Mr Colt kindly dotted 365 bunkers around the course but now this number has now shrunk to somewhere just below 100.
Hugh and I were taking on John and JP and I??d got Hugh on a good day. He played his lights out for much of the round until the match ended on the 16th hole courtesy of some dovetailing all the way around! I particularly enjoyed a quip from JP after Hugh had missed the green (by a fair way) on the par three 7th hole. ??I??d like to see you get up and down from there? was followed by a remarkable pitch across the sharply sloping green to a couple of feet from where Hugh calmly tapped in for par and the win on the hole (no shots). His second remarkable par three on the front nine.
The stretch from 9 thru to 11 is particularly fun and known amongst the locals as amen corner. 9 plays along the waterfront, 10 is a devilish short par four where stories of Rory McIlroy ?? the local lad from the neighboring course started to flow (he hit 3 wood onto the green of course!), and then the famous uphill par three 11th over all kinds of scrub to a blind, two tiered green. Here John and I were faced with a real dilemma. A putt from the top tier to the pin cut right at the bottom of a sharp slope. John was a fine putter, and when he hit his putt first JP was quick to acknowledge his partners good roll. I held my tongue as I watched it gather pace and end up a couple of feet off the green. Using the experience of John??s putt I was faced with two options ?? lay up out to the left, or try and sink it knowing that at best I??d be left with a 10 footer uphill, if not further away off the green. Not one to lay-up full shots, let alone putts I knocked it down there barely moving as it went over the crest but still faced with a 10 footer coming back. Perhaps a green that was a little bit O.T.T ?? like the old Olympic 18th, but good fun nonetheless.
[On the 11th tee]
[JP on the 12th. A hole on a step between the higher holes and the holes alongside the water]
The course finishes with a couple of ??half pars?? the shortish par fives 16 and 18 and the very difficult 210 yard par three 17th. It??d be a great course to watch a tournament finish on, or to play in a match.
The Aftermatch
The folk here, arranged by Hugh, really put on a special aftermatch do in the grand Victorian clubhouse. Showered up and into the dining area we were treated to our first Guinness in Ireland. And I can report that all the stories they say are true ?? it was even that bit better. Smooth. Black stuff in hand we sat down and met John??s wife Janet, the current Captain, Arnie Wright (who we could definitely remember from our time at Aberdeen ?? champion) and his wife Connie, and two former Captains, Phyllis and Michael Park. Hugh nicked home to pick up Grace and the two of them were in particularly fine form after hearing just before the meal of their sons engagement - congratulations!!
Banter (or should I say Craic) followed for most of the night as we soaked in the atmosphere of Royal Belfast ?? one of only four Royal clubs in Ireland. The Irish people have a lovely way about them and I found myself thinking that this is going to be some 4 weeks in our year of golf. After a Top Meal we said a few words to thank our hosts and made the trip back to Bangor for another good nights sleep.
Huge thanks to Hugh and Grace for having us, and Arnie and the club of Royal Belfast for the day. As I said, it was a real pleasure to spend the day with y??all and I hope to one day share a reciprocal visit with you (Royal Belfast had just hosted Royal Melbourne folk ?? including one chap we??d met earlier in the year, and Arnie told me he has 5 matches with other Royal clubs coming up over the next month!!).
M
Postscript ?? well done to the ladies interclub team who have beaten all in their path this season and good luck Grace and co with the all Ireland final in the coming weeks!
Chisholm Park
12 holes bart cape kidnappers christchurch christmas doak ed bayley hawke's bay heretaunga jane poole napier golf club new zealand puregolf2010 rangiora rarangi gc royal royal wellington the first tee the interislander waiohiki
