The first stop in our heathland adventure

Posted by Jamie on 19 October 2010 | 0 Comments | Tags: Walton Heath, heathland, England, Herbert Fowler

There is something about heathland courses that intrigues me.  Maybe it�??s just the heather.  Or the fusion of sand and heath.  Whatever �??it�?� is, I get awfully excited when we set off on a heathland excursion.  Today then was a particularly enticing prospect, given we were to play Walton Heath �?? one of the premier courses fashioned in this style in England, indeed in the world.  I should mention they have two courses: the Old and the New (which isn�??t all that new, but it�??s younger than the old, surprisingly enough).  Unlike tomorrow (when we play both Sunningdale Old and New), we just played The Old; 36 holes back to back would break us in two, and it was our host�??s father�??s birthday so in the event 18 holes suited everyone down to the ground.  (The New looks stunning enough though, especially the 3rd hole!).

The Tank pulled through the gates circa 9.40; we were to meet our good host around 9.45 for a 10am tee off.  On time for once then.  Richard was introduced to us by a young gentleman by the name of David Ferreira, who we played with at Pine Valley a few months back.  Turns out Richard was his boss when David was seconded for a short while at Barclays Capital �?? obviously he must�??ve done a good job, because when David put the feelers out for who might be kind enough to host two dishevelled Kiwis for a game Richard answered the call.  I�??m not sure if I asked all my old bosses if they�??d take a couple of random punters out for a hit they�??d all do the same!

And so commenced a rather familiar routine, which goes something like this: JP to pro / locker room steward / receptionist �?? �??Good morning Sir / Madam, my name is Jamie Patton, and I�??m here as a guest of Richard Jennings.  We�??re teeing off at 10.  Except I don�??t have the foggiest idea of what Richard looks like.  So if you see him, could you please let him know that Jamie the (ahem) Kiwi is out on the putting green in a black Ballybunion vest?  Thank you.�?�  Hit a few putts; look around for someone that looks like a Richard; still nothing.  Eventually a tall chap edges over and we both know that we�??ve eventually come across the person we�??re supposed to be meeting.  All very Cold War smoke and mirrors stuff, you see.

Unfortunately I suffered the embarrassment from the outset of having made a rather large f**k up.  Richard had asked me days prior whether we had a fourth in mind; I suggested Bart might be keen for a game, unless Richard had other ideas.  Great, he said.  Only, I told Bart yesterday that I thought we had a four, so he went up to London to sample a bit of nightlife with family friends.  And missed out on the joy that is Walton Heath.  On a pure blue sky Sunday morning.  Ooops.  Richard was gracious enough to brush the glaring logistical error under the carpet, but I felt like crawling under a bush.  Anyway.

We got chatting in the shop to the Assistant Head Pro, James, who�??s spent a good bit of time in NZ with family based around Auckland town.  He was perhaps the most ebullient human we�??ve met this year; just gushing with enthusiasm about his time Down Under, and full of stories about his six thousand cousins that reside there.  We chatted for what must�??ve been 20 minutes before realising that we were supposed to be here to play golf.  The members must feed off his chat.

Richard (recently engaged following a trip to California, which took in Pebble Beach, no less) led us down the road to the 1st tee.  235 yards of par 3 welcomes you to Walton Heath.  A very gentle start...   I pinged a 3 wood into the greenside bunker, only to discover perhaps one of the greatest pleasures of playing at the Heath (a colloquial nickname that I�??ve selected, whether or not it�??s actually used by anyone else): the sand.  It has the most magnificent texture; a real treat to clip your ball from.  The fact that I got up and down and thus our relationship started out on the right foot may have had something to do with it.  But I like to think otherwise.  Tremendous sand �?? as pleasing in form as in substance too.

Then you walk across the road (as we did at Goodwood yesterday).  And the golf course starts to open up in front of you; in fact both of them do.  A strong stretch of holes from 1 to 6 ensures you don�??t get complacent �?? not least the 519 yard par 4 4th hole, which I managed to triple bogey after a lost ball from the tee.  You can be 3 yards off the fairway at Walton Heath and lose your ball without trying.  Such is the tyranny of the heather and gorse and hellish heathland undergrowth.  What a challenge it presents; a challenge to relish.

Playing dead into the October sun �?? at this point, shining through the morning mist to create a blinding glow �?? presented yet another challenge.  We couldn�??t see where we were hitting the bloody thing.  Ignorance is bliss.  On the 3rd (a 290 yard par 4, playing slightly down breeze) we waited for the chaps ahead to clear the decks before launching.  All three of us got near the front edge too (in Richard�??s case, with a mere 3 metal).  But this put us a couple of minutes behind time: something a cantankerous brigade of old farts in the group behind had no qualms about mentioning on the next tee.  �??Are you playing a match?�?� one enquired rather sharply.  �??Of sorts,�?� I jousted.  �??Well, I hope it moves quicker,�?� replied the despot.  I fired him a wry smile and moved on, hoping never to make his acquaintance again.  And I didn�??t.  Because we played at a good pace as we are prone to doing, and he was fighting with more heather and gorse and sand than your average Prestwick member does in a year.  There�??s always one...

Walton Heath is surrounded by public land, used recreationally for a number of purposes.  Like walking (surprise, surprise �?? we�??re in England), horse riding and so on.  Probably paintball too.  I myself preferred to use it to find my own golf balls, several of them having disappeared into oblivion.  One would have more luck finding a needle in a field of haystacks than one would trying to find a little white ball amongst the heath.  

After the 6th the course gets a bit gentler, but it�??s by no means a dawdle.  Heather�??s ne�??er too far away.  She�??s a right bitch that Heather.  Good looking but perilous.  Like Russian women, I imagine.

Richard�??s a few years our senior (33, he admitted, which means he�??s probably 31 if the wisdom of psychology of the male psyche is to be believed), so it was interesting to see how life had panned out for him given our similar backgrounds (in law, etc).  His path has been perhaps a more orthodox one than ours (go figure), but he seems to have cultivated a nice life for himself that manages to balance work with all the other stuff.  It is possible then, in the banking world.  He had four years at Linklaters, and in the latter of those billed over 2000 hours (which is quite a lot), but was still told he wasn�??t working hard enough.  They wanted two pounds of flesh.  So he said, politely, �??go away�?�.  And now life appears to be running more smoothly.  For every Richard though there�??s an earnest young punter who would reply �??how high?�?�, and work themselves into the ground.  For a buck or two, and a chance at �?? drum roll please �?? Partnership!  Not for me, and not for him.  

We had a grand old time.  Walton Heath is the sort of course you could happily play week in, week out, but that can be stretched out to monstrous and ferocious proportions as necessary (it�??s used as a US Open qualifying course).  And the members have the pleasure of having the New Course at their disposal too �?? which, though we didn�??t play, looked rather special too.  I wanted to go straight back out and play again, truth  be told.  But Richard insisted that we have a quick beverage on the deck, and a bowl of chips, before he shot off to do family duty.  I could see inside a proper sit down lunch �?? jacket and tie job �?? going on, akin to a couple of the lunches we�??ve been fortunate to have this year.  Too nice a day to be sitting inside though!  

Thanks Richard, and thanks to Walton Heath for hosting us �?? a very special experience.  

JP