The Irish Kiawah Island

Posted by Jamie on 15 September 2010 | 0 Comments | Tags: Doonbeg, SWING, links, Ireland, Clare, Greg Norman, Kiawah Island

Doonbeg.  Great name isn�??t it?  Long before the Americans at last managed to acquire the commonage upon which Doonbeg GC is built, the site had been earmarked by British Garrisons for development.  In time however they realised that Lahinch �?? half an hour up the road �??  was a more suitable site, given the railway took you right to it.  Old Tom Morris was commissioned to come across (later Dr. Alistair MacKenzie too); and so Lahinch GC came to be.  It would be over a century before the golf course at Doonbeg was built.  When the time came, it wasn�??t Old Tam that was brought in to do the design work (unfortunately he was long gone), but a fair haired Australian Shark by the name of Greg Norman.  Thus you have an American owned Irish links designed by an Australian.  How cosmopolitan.

The village of Doonbeg itself is an ancient one and a tiny one.  You might say its economy �?? pre-Doonbeg GC �?? was of modest proportions.  Then the big guns came along with a grand plan and, lo and behold, created employment for over 100 locals.  Doonbeg�??s now on the map, firmly cemented as one of the �??must do�?� stops on the West of Ireland golf trips that the Americans in particular so love (for good reason, if you ask me).  Being so proximate to Lahinch and Ballybunion is ideal, particularly from a marketing perspective.  Indeed they all get together, along with another few clubs further down the Kerry coastline, to form the SWING collective.  Strength in numbers and all that.

You won�??t be surprised to hear that when the Americans developed Doonbeg, they Developed it (emphasis added).  Yes, folks, there�??s not just a golf course on the site; more a golf village, and a tastefully built one at that.  These lads obviously know what they�??re doing.  So you have  (5 star) The Lodge (with all the trimmings) and a bunch of 4 bedroom cottages (which the developers sold off even before the course was built).  It�??s class.  

We were due to tee off at 10.00, according to my laptop.  However.  When I consulted the laptop the night prior �?? while we were still up in Sligo �?? it told me the tee time was 1.00...  (Obviously the first zero after the one had gone AWOL in a display of mischievous trickery).  The long and the short of this improbable anecdote: upon waking up I/we realised that the 4 hour drive to Doonbeg would have to be completed in less than 2 or, more plausibly, our tee time would have to be shifted.  Happily Brian Shaw the Head Pro down the road was happy to oblige, thank heavens.  

Every road worker on this Emerald Isle then conspired to dig up as many roads and create as many sitting-frustrated-at-temporary-traffic-light delays as is humanly possible on a stretch of road of such length.  The drive then seemed almost as long as the one we did from Scottsdale to Dallas (which took 22 hours).  And the road wasn�??t quite so straight...  However, I�??m not one to complain about the infrastructure or the weather here �?? unlike an Antipodean couple I met the other day, who upon being asked how their holiday was could only recite such complaints and not find a positive word to say at all...  Ludicrous.  You�??re in Ireland for goodness sake!

The Tank pulled into Lahinch en route to our destination, in the name of sustenance.  A bonnie wee village it is too.  Michael pulled together a staple meal of brown bread, shaved ham and coleslaw; soon we had ingested a couple of sammies each and were suitably equipped to take on this tricky proposition that is Doonbeg.  Or so we thought!  (As it turned out, to be �??suitably equipped�?� we would�??ve required the further: 16 energy bars, 24 Panadol, a caddie that�??s happy to run down and kick your ball into the fairway, and a proper golf swing.  Not to mention a devilish sense of humour.  Yes, Doonbeg�??s a rather challenging beast (from the back markers, at least).

We were down on the (amended) tee sheet to be playing as a 2 ball.  But that�??s no fun.  So we asked of John The Starter (distant relative of John The Baptist) whether another pair might be brave enough to join us.  As it happened a pair of members from Limerick way were taking coffee and scheduled to be playing 12 minutes behind us; and they were sociable enough to agree to join �??a couple of Kiwis�?�.  Our 2 became 4.  Michael and Brian (pronounced Bree-an) turned out to be a pair of characters and very interesting ones at that.  Both have a background in accounting (gasp!), but fortunately were not of the I-like-numbers-and-not-much-else flavour.  No, on the contrary, their craic was of a fine vintage, thanks be to God.

Zee course?  Lots of good holes and one or two nearly good ones.  I understand Monsieur Norman and his cronies were somewhat constrained in what they could build by swathes of conservation red tape (the worst kind) marking the boundaries of a native snail habitat (don�??t those little slimy things always get in the way?).  Nonetheless they�??ve crafted a challenging and at times terrifying 9 out: 9 back links on a spectacular piece of sand.  (I must emphasise that our experience was from the back tees, which not many people are stupid enough to take on.)   Contrary to the odd rumour I�??ve heard, I have it on good authority that The Shark Himself did spend a good bit of time over here during the build process, rather than rubber stamping someone else�??s design.  The authority comes from a canny friend who �?? during a Q+A session held in the US for potential investors �?? asked Greg which pub in Doonbeg village pulls the best pint of Guinness (read: have you spent enough time in town to know the name of at least one of the pubs?).  He passed the test (the answer is Comerfords, which incidentally is a family pub that�??s been there since Rameses was taken down to his tomb).    

There are five par 5s, five par 3s, and eight par 4s, if the accountant in me is doing his job properly (he seldom does).   The 1st is a striking par 5 �?? on this occasion, playing more like a long par 4, down wind �?? to a green cut in the shadow of a huge dune behind.  Our pal Gents rates it as his favourite opening hole in the world (and he�??s played a few crackers).  

By the time you reach the 2nd green The Norman Influence starts to reveal its menacing self.  What looks like a green is actually an inverted V-shaped �??wingnut�?� of closely mown grass, the inner apex of which (does that work?) has been cut out into a deep round hole filled with sand.  Of course �??someone�?� was sadistic enough to cut the pin right behind the pot bunker, just above a deathly ridge that splits the green in twee.  The tremendously candid folk Turnberry brought in to scribble captions for each hole on their strokesavers would�??ve had a field day with this wee chestnut!   

Ancient whitewash cottages tucked behind even more ancient stone walls pepper the landscape and provide temporary distraction from a messy scorecard.  Like this one:

I loved the 5th hole, a short par 4 that in different conditions could be played a number of different ways.  It�??s a tunnel like number, with a grassy hollow that�??s driveable when the wind�??s helping or not doing much.  The tee shot is uphill and �?? if you�??re long enough �?? blind, so there�??s a certain degree of feel involved.  The Big Boys could I don�??t doubt smash one with a helping wind over the ditch and down to the green.  If the wind�??s into, as it was, it�??s a good drive and a mid-iron (or a duffed drive and a 3 wood in my case...).  Just a lovely hole.

It�??s followed by a gnarly little short par 4 that created problems for the lot of us.  The view from the tee (below) gives insight into what lies left and right for those who are human enough to err.  You don�??t even need to stray left or right, in fact �?? there are enough bunkers guarding the gauntlet to frighten even the most accomplished of golfers.  The back portion of the green slopes sharply away from you too, so even if you�??re pitching there�??s no guarantee that you�??re getting a short birdie (or even par!) putt.  I�??d like to watch the pros play this one.

From the 9th green �?? the farthest point on the course, as is traditional �?? there�??s a stirring view right back along the strand to the clubhouse.  Even from back here there are echoes of The Ocean Course at Kiawah Island, which has a similarly spectacular clubhouse casting a great shadow off in the distance.  See for yourself:

The ninth, incidentally, is one of a couple of hair raising par 3s (the other being the signature hole 14th) that are cut right on the edge of the dunes.  On a windy day you could almost putt down to the beach if you weren�??t careful (and if your ball picked a canny route between the tussocks lining the banks).  Not for the faint hearted.  They almost need one of those Warning signs like they have at Bethpage in New York.   

Several friends had warned us to beware of the 12th green, which like the 5th at Riviera has a bunker cut in the middle of it.  Yikes.  The difference here though is that the bunker�??s not visible from the fairway �?? unless my eyes were deceiving me �?? so you�??ve got to trust either the strokesaver or the locals.  The pin was cut back left, not 10 yards from the out of bounds wall.  So the line was a precarious one to say the least.  Not only that but, lamentably, the pin had been cut right on a severe knife edge ridge, so two putting from 20 feet was no easy task.  A shame really, because the hole is nearly done well, but falls on the wrong side of �??tricked up�?� in my humble opinion.  If you�??re going to have a bunker in the middle of a green, at least make it visible from the fairway, and make the green surrounding it relatively flat; otherwise good shots aren�??t very much rewarded (Michael hit a good tee shot and a good approach in but still had no real hope of making his par).  Och well.

The 14th which I mentioned before is one of the more spectacular short par 3s we�??ve had the pleasure of playing this year.  It�??s simple but treacherous.  Either you hit the green or you don�??t; as simple as that.  At only a shade over 100 yards it�??s only a pitch in still conditions �?? although I�??ve heard reports of 3 irons being hit when the sea wind is Up.  Gets the blood pumping.

By the time we reached 18 green the wind was a�??blowin�?? and the rain was a�??tumblin�?? down.  A spectacular setting nonetheless, very much arousing memories of Day 160 at Kiawah.  Breen and Michael got showered up in the sheds while we went back to do the same at our plush little cottage (which boasted the most marvellous marble shower the size of a small Pacific Island nation).  Then the lads kindly took us into the village to have The Real Doonbeg experience: dinner at Morrissey�??s and a pint at the world-famous-in-Ireland Comerfords pub.  Class.  

When we arrived at Comerfords at 8pm, the proprietor (who must be in her late 60s or early 70s) was just arriving to open up, with a fragile looking gentleman on her arm.  Thomas is deaf as a post but comes down to the pub every evening for 3 pints; like clockwork.  2 other patrons arrived within half an hour or so, obviously as part of a regular routine if you know what I mean.  One of �??em was a character and a half, and burst into song impromptu.  Before then he could hardly get a sober word out, but his singing voice was clear as Katherine Jenkins �?? remarkable.  Only in Ireland...

Slainte
JP