My “ultimate golf trip” parameters:
Two weeks, start to finish
Off the beaten path, interacting with true locals
Good, local food and drink
Castles, historical sites
Finding experiences which cannot be replicated elsewhere: not much time in the large cities because large cities, for the most part, are all the same. Sure, there are distinguishing factors that make Paris Paris, and London London, and Chicago Chicago . . . but ultimately, with the shops, restaurants, bustle, traffic, pollution, crime and multi-ethnic populace, Paris is nearer in feel to New York than it is to a small village in the Loire Valley. It is to me, anyway.
One iteration of the plan is to lease a cottage (or, ideally, a restored lighthouse—how cool would THAT be?) and use that as a home base for the entire fortnight (yes, I said ‘fortnight’), making day-trips out. The whole of Scotland is smaller than Oregon, so that seems a reasonable plan. (I think it’s about 45 minutes from Edinburgh on the east coast to Glasgow on the west.) It would make for a couple of long driving days (4-6 hours in the car, play 18 holes, 4-6 hours back . . .) But it has the benefit of not unpacking and repacking every night, which can get old. Especially with a family in tow. If it were just me, I would rent a car, drive where the feeling took me, and crash out for the night wherever I stopped. Somehow, I’m thinking that plan is not going to fly with the little woman.
That’s one of the biggest decisions: get a nice cottage, use it as a home base, and get a sense of being a local, or stopping every night at a different B&B.
My inclination is to split the difference; spend a week in each of two general locales, with a home cottage in each.
Ahhh, but where?
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Glossary
blades (n): Forged golf irons. High-end, not forgiving. Made for the better player.
British Isles: a group of islands off the northwest coast of continental Europe which comprise Great Britain, Ireland and a number of smaller islands.
chalk stream: the English term 'chalk stream' is most widely used among a small group of fly fishermen (who fish for trout on these rivers utilizing a specific type of artificial fly and their attendant techniques), as the ecology of the chalkstreams creates an especially entertaining variation on the general theme of fly fishing.
England: a country, which is part of the United Kingdom.[3][4] Its inhabitants account for more than 83% of the total UK population,[5] whilst its mainland territory occupies most of the southern two-thirds of the island of Great Britain.
gorse: a genus of about 20 species of evergreen shrubs in the subfamily Faboideae of the pea family Fabaceae, native to western Europe and northwest Africa, with the majority of species in Iberia. Other common names for gorse include furse, whin and furze. A typical hazard on a links golf course (see below).
Great Britain: the larger of the two main islands of the British Isles. Great Britain makes up the largest part of the territory of the state known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. England, Scotland and Wales are mostly situated on the island.
heather: The national flower of Norway, but with a strong affiliation to Scotland. It is a small perennial shrub growing to 20-50 cm tall (rarely to 1 m), and is found widely in Europe and Asia Minor on well-drained acidic soils in open sunny situations and in moderate shade. The other (along with gorse) typical hazard on a links golf course.
Ireland: is the third largest island in Europe. It lies to the north-west of continental Europe and is surrounded by hundreds of islands and islets. To the east of Ireland, separated by the Irish Sea, is the island of Great Britain. Politically, the state Ireland (described as the Republic of Ireland in cases of ambiguity) covers five-sixths of the island, with Northern Ireland, part of the United Kingdom, covering the remainder in the north-east.
links golf: Golf played on links courses; i.e., courses built on sandy soil (whether seaside or not) and that are buffeted by winds. A links course must play firm and fast, with sometimes crusty fairways and greens that feature many knolls and knobs to create odd bounces and angles. And a links course needs to be relatively treeless with a native rough that is tall and thick.
Linksland: The British Golf Museum says that "links" are coastal strips of land between the beaches and the inland agricultural areas. This term, in its purest sense, applies specifically to seaside areas in Scotland. So "links land" is land where seaside transitions into farmland. Links land has sandy soil, making it unsuited for crops. The land, in fact, was thought to be worthless because it was not arable for crops.
match play: a scoring system for golf in which a player or team earns points for each hole in which they have bested their opponents; this is as opposed to stroke play, in which the total number of strokes is counted.
Mendoza Line: The Mendoza Line is an informal term used in baseball for when a player's batting average falls below the boundary between extremely poor and merely below-average. It is often used to characterize a batting average of below .200. The term is named for former shortstop Mario Mendoza, who actually hit .198 in the 1979 season.
Scotland: a country that occupies the northern third of the island of Great Britain. It is part of the United Kingdom, and shares a land border to the south with England.
United Kingdom: commonly known as the United Kingdom, the UK or Britain, includes the island of Great Britain, the northeast part of the island of Ireland, and many small islands. Northern Ireland is the only part of the UK with a land border, sharing it with the Republic of Ireland.
My Golf
I’m 37 years old and I’ve played golf seriously for about half my life. By ‘seriously’ I do not mean that I play professionally, or even that I play often. I do not have a regular Saturday game; I do not have yearly outings with my co-workers, college buddies, or neighbors. I do have a biennial (or is it biannual?) grudge match, but more about that later.
I’ve never been a long hitter. Which would bother me, if I let such things bother me. I’m a solid six feet tall, with an average build. Guys my size, and smaller, routinely out drive me.
Many years ago, I went on a golf outing to the Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail in Alabama, a bachelor party for my brother-in-law. There were, what, probably eight of us there, I suppose. At the time, I was still playing persimmon woods (I’ve since – reluctantly – gone to metal-headed long clubs) and I did not even carry a driver. I was hitting my Ben Hogan persimmon 3-wood about 220 yards off the tees, and getting smoked by 50 yards by various Big Berthas and the like. But you know what? I was in (or near) the fairway on every hole, they were not. I was on or near the green in regulation, they were not. They might be 300 yards off the tee, but I’d roll in my 6 foot up-and-down to win the hole. Every hole. Round after round. I’m like the Pepe le Peu of golf.
(All of that being said, I just got myself an oversize, draw-inducing Ben Hogan driver that I was TOTALLY crushing at the range. If I can keep that in the fairway, and long, I’ll be unstoppable.)
I’m Ben Hogan man, myself. The Hawk. Mr. Hogan. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is the fact that he’s the greatest ball striker in the history of golf?* That might have something to do with it.
I think it might have something to do with my first and only formal golf teacher, Duncan McCallum and it probably also owes something to Justin Leonard winning the Open Championship at Troon in 1997.
That was just about the time I was getting into golf in a very serious way, and the way I’m hard-wired, the Open Championship has always been THE major for me. I like the Masters. I respect the US Open. I watch the PGA. And the Players’.
But I LOVE the Open Championship.
I remember reading about Leonard after he won. It was a dramatic victory; a come-from-behind win, and it was a compelling story. Leonard, a short but accurate hitter (like me, I thought!) a Texan who idolized Ben Hogan and played Ben Hogan sticks. 1988 Apex redlines.
* Are you going to debate me on this? I didn’t say he was the greatest golfer ever. I said he was the greatest striker of the ball. The only people you can talk about in the same sentence are Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods. I think Tiger’s a better golfer than Jack. I think time will prove that. Will Tiger ever match Hogan pure execution of the golf shot? I doubt it. Although, his 2005 Open Championship at St Andrews in which he didn’t hit a single bunker over four rounds? That’s pretty strong.
I’ve never been a long hitter. Which would bother me, if I let such things bother me. I’m a solid six feet tall, with an average build. Guys my size, and smaller, routinely out drive me.
Many years ago, I went on a golf outing to the Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail in Alabama, a bachelor party for my brother-in-law. There were, what, probably eight of us there, I suppose. At the time, I was still playing persimmon woods (I’ve since – reluctantly – gone to metal-headed long clubs) and I did not even carry a driver. I was hitting my Ben Hogan persimmon 3-wood about 220 yards off the tees, and getting smoked by 50 yards by various Big Berthas and the like. But you know what? I was in (or near) the fairway on every hole, they were not. I was on or near the green in regulation, they were not. They might be 300 yards off the tee, but I’d roll in my 6 foot up-and-down to win the hole. Every hole. Round after round. I’m like the Pepe le Peu of golf.
(All of that being said, I just got myself an oversize, draw-inducing Ben Hogan driver that I was TOTALLY crushing at the range. If I can keep that in the fairway, and long, I’ll be unstoppable.)
I’m Ben Hogan man, myself. The Hawk. Mr. Hogan. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is the fact that he’s the greatest ball striker in the history of golf?* That might have something to do with it.
I think it might have something to do with my first and only formal golf teacher, Duncan McCallum and it probably also owes something to Justin Leonard winning the Open Championship at Troon in 1997.
That was just about the time I was getting into golf in a very serious way, and the way I’m hard-wired, the Open Championship has always been THE major for me. I like the Masters. I respect the US Open. I watch the PGA. And the Players’.
But I LOVE the Open Championship.
I remember reading about Leonard after he won. It was a dramatic victory; a come-from-behind win, and it was a compelling story. Leonard, a short but accurate hitter (like me, I thought!) a Texan who idolized Ben Hogan and played Ben Hogan sticks. 1988 Apex redlines.
* Are you going to debate me on this? I didn’t say he was the greatest golfer ever. I said he was the greatest striker of the ball. The only people you can talk about in the same sentence are Jack Nicklaus and Tiger Woods. I think Tiger’s a better golfer than Jack. I think time will prove that. Will Tiger ever match Hogan pure execution of the golf shot? I doubt it. Although, his 2005 Open Championship at St Andrews in which he didn’t hit a single bunker over four rounds? That’s pretty strong.
Itinerary
The purpose of this journal is to chronicle my planning for, preparing for, and ultimately taking the “once in a lifetime” trip to play golf abroad. (And to fish. And see castles. And important art and stuff. And eat. And drink.)
This trip was going to be my 30th birthday present to myself. But a few years before that, my first son was born, and we got too busy. So then it was going to be my 35th. Guess what? Second son, second postponement of the trip.
So, now it’s on target to be my 40th birthday. Which is about two and a half years away. There will be no more children (thank you, Dr. Challenger), so right now all systems are a go.
In 2011, Charlie will be 13, Henry not quite eight. Both old enough to “get” the trip, and remember it. But young enough to not, you know, be teenagers. And I’ll still be young enough to be able to walk the hills and dunes of the Scottish and/or Irish coast, day after day. After day.
Of course, this trip was originally going to be the “ultimate golf in Scotland” trip. I was going to hit the big ones: St Andrews, Carnoustie, Royal Troon, et al. Every golfer’s fantasy trip.
But one of the primary motivations behind this trip is to get AWAY from American golf and to try to get back to the roots of golf. Authentic golf. True golf. And the more I read about those courses, and the more I planned my trip, the more I realized that, rather than escaping from overpriced, over-watered, over-crowded American courses, I’d be heading for more of the same. The more I read about the great courses, the more it began to dawn on me that that is not where I am going to find the true golf experience I’m looking for.
So, a couple of years ago, I decided that rather than hitting the ‘big boys’, I’d play the more obscure, lesser-known courses. Courses where I could truly find that authentic Scottish links experience.
Lately, I’ve been torn. A year or more ago, I came across several magazines and books that really pushed the Irish golf experience. The general gist I got from these sources was “if you’ve been looking for that authentic Scottish golf experience, you really should just go to Ireland instead.”
Now, my latest reading indicates that enough people have followed that advice to make Ireland not the hidden golf destination it was even a decade ago. Prices are skyrocketing, business is booming, and the courses that were described in the first editions of “Golf in Ireland” books as “stunning golf, dirt cheap and virtually deserted” are described in later editions as “overrun with American and Japanese tour buses” and “four or five times the price from the last time we played there.”
(Its gone so far as my having recently received this tip: “You want the REAL hidden links treasures . . . go to Wales!”)
So I’m in a quandary. On the horns of a dilemma, if you will.
Which is one of the motivating factors behind this journal. I’m hopeful that it will become interactive, and that you will help me plan and execute my perfect trip.
No pressure on you or anything.
This trip was going to be my 30th birthday present to myself. But a few years before that, my first son was born, and we got too busy. So then it was going to be my 35th. Guess what? Second son, second postponement of the trip.
So, now it’s on target to be my 40th birthday. Which is about two and a half years away. There will be no more children (thank you, Dr. Challenger), so right now all systems are a go.
In 2011, Charlie will be 13, Henry not quite eight. Both old enough to “get” the trip, and remember it. But young enough to not, you know, be teenagers. And I’ll still be young enough to be able to walk the hills and dunes of the Scottish and/or Irish coast, day after day. After day.
Of course, this trip was originally going to be the “ultimate golf in Scotland” trip. I was going to hit the big ones: St Andrews, Carnoustie, Royal Troon, et al. Every golfer’s fantasy trip.
But one of the primary motivations behind this trip is to get AWAY from American golf and to try to get back to the roots of golf. Authentic golf. True golf. And the more I read about those courses, and the more I planned my trip, the more I realized that, rather than escaping from overpriced, over-watered, over-crowded American courses, I’d be heading for more of the same. The more I read about the great courses, the more it began to dawn on me that that is not where I am going to find the true golf experience I’m looking for.
So, a couple of years ago, I decided that rather than hitting the ‘big boys’, I’d play the more obscure, lesser-known courses. Courses where I could truly find that authentic Scottish links experience.
Lately, I’ve been torn. A year or more ago, I came across several magazines and books that really pushed the Irish golf experience. The general gist I got from these sources was “if you’ve been looking for that authentic Scottish golf experience, you really should just go to Ireland instead.”
Now, my latest reading indicates that enough people have followed that advice to make Ireland not the hidden golf destination it was even a decade ago. Prices are skyrocketing, business is booming, and the courses that were described in the first editions of “Golf in Ireland” books as “stunning golf, dirt cheap and virtually deserted” are described in later editions as “overrun with American and Japanese tour buses” and “four or five times the price from the last time we played there.”
(Its gone so far as my having recently received this tip: “You want the REAL hidden links treasures . . . go to Wales!”)
So I’m in a quandary. On the horns of a dilemma, if you will.
Which is one of the motivating factors behind this journal. I’m hopeful that it will become interactive, and that you will help me plan and execute my perfect trip.
No pressure on you or anything.
On Golf
I prefer to golf alone; I prefer to golf in the rain.
I always walk.
I try to have fun, but golf, qua golf, does not lend itself to having fun.
Golf is great for developing frustration, anger, disappointment, despair.
But not fun.
There’s that old saying that in baseball: you can fail seven times out of ten and make it to the Hall of Fame. Your average golfer will take between 85 and 105 shots per round. It’s a good day when three of those ninety plus shots go where you want. Math has never been my forte, but I think that would equate to about a .003 batting average. A little below the Mendoza line.
But the great thing about golf is that it’s that one great shot per round that gets you back. That’s what brings me back, anyway.
That’s the other thing about golf; while it breeds disappointment, frustration, failure – I think I’ve hit one completely satisfying shot this entire summer. It’s August. ONE shot left the club exactly as I had intended. (And it ended up being short of the green. But what a lovely shot.) – but I KNOW I could go out this evening and shoot par; I could play a regulation 18-hole course in 72 strokes.
I just know I could.
What’s stopping me?
Fairway. Green. Two putts.
18 times in a row. It’s almost TOO easy.
The lure of golf.
I always walk.
I try to have fun, but golf, qua golf, does not lend itself to having fun.
Golf is great for developing frustration, anger, disappointment, despair.
But not fun.
There’s that old saying that in baseball: you can fail seven times out of ten and make it to the Hall of Fame. Your average golfer will take between 85 and 105 shots per round. It’s a good day when three of those ninety plus shots go where you want. Math has never been my forte, but I think that would equate to about a .003 batting average. A little below the Mendoza line.
But the great thing about golf is that it’s that one great shot per round that gets you back. That’s what brings me back, anyway.
That’s the other thing about golf; while it breeds disappointment, frustration, failure – I think I’ve hit one completely satisfying shot this entire summer. It’s August. ONE shot left the club exactly as I had intended. (And it ended up being short of the green. But what a lovely shot.) – but I KNOW I could go out this evening and shoot par; I could play a regulation 18-hole course in 72 strokes.
I just know I could.
What’s stopping me?
Fairway. Green. Two putts.
18 times in a row. It’s almost TOO easy.
The lure of golf.
On Fishing
Of course, the entire trip cannot be about the golf, the whole golf, and nothing but the golf. For one thing, I will be dragging along – that is to say, fortunate to have – family and friends along for the experience. And, hard though it may to believe, not all of them will be interested in flying 2,000 miles and then playing 36 holes of golf a day for two weeks straight.
One of the other main objectives of the trip – besides the castles – will be the fishing. Fly fishing. For trout. Big trout. And salmon. Bigger salmon.
One of the other main objectives of the trip – besides the castles – will be the fishing. Fly fishing. For trout. Big trout. And salmon. Bigger salmon.
On Links Golf
Over the years, I’ve grown obsessed with links golf. If you’re reading this, I have to believe you know what links golf is. If not, I’ll try to summarize what it is. Or, rather, what it is (and what it has become) to me. Without a true understanding of that, it will be difficult for you to understand the point of the rest of what I’ll be writing. Hard to understand the purpose of this endeavor.
I wonder sometimes myself what the purpose is.
LINKS GOLF
When I was a kid and I read the term, ‘golf links’, I remember figuring the origin of the name was in how the holes are ‘linked’ together, as in a chain. Each hole follows the previous, creating, in the end, eighteen linked holes. (That definition makes sense to me, even now.)
But, no, the term ‘links’ (as applied to a golf course), in fact stems from the rolling, sandy landscape at the edge of the sea, primarily in the UK.
(Incidentally, I have always kind of interchangeably used “England”, “Great Britain”, “Britain” and “United Kingdom” to mean the same chunk of land over there, but here’s the scoop:
England is, well, England. A country that makes up about 60% of Great Britain, which is part of the United Kingdom. Great Britain is the island on which England and Scotland lie. (Well, it’s the one big island and about 900 little islands off the coast, the Hebrides and the like.)
The United Kingdom is the, ahem, kingdom that is united under the British crown: England, Scotland, and Northern Ireland.
Northern Ireland (and Ireland) lie on a second island (guess what it’s called), just west of Great Britain. It used to be entirely under English rule (as did the United States, India, Hong Kong . . . well, most of the known world at one point.) But the plucky Irish decided they’d rule themselves, thank you very much, and bucked off the English lords.
The British were able to hold onto a bit up north, cleverly known as Northern Ireland. (This is the place that U2 used to sing about. It catches fire occasionally.) So, the United Kingdom consists of Great Britain (England and Scotland) and Northern Ireland. Ireland is not part of Great Britain or the United Kingdom. But it’s right there. Kind of like Canada. End of sidebar. Hope you’re thoroughly confused now.)
As I was saying, the term ‘links’ applies to that sandy, windswept land at the edge of the sea which links (get it?) the fertile farm/pastureland with the inhospitable sand. This creates the perfect environment for springy, hearty turf on top of a sandy subsoil which drains exceptionally well.
The ideal golf terrain.
It is also frequently rolling (as coastal sand dunes get grassed over) and virtually treeless, as there is no substantial soil to support tall trees.
So, what has drawn me to links golf? Hard to say, really. Something in my wiring just predisposes me to old-fashioned, classic THINGS. 1957 Corvette or 2009 Ferrari? I’d take the ’57 Vette. Brand new Ibanez electric guitar or classic 70s Telecaster? The Tele, every time. I use a fountain pen, for cripes’ sake! It’s just how I’m wired.
I wonder sometimes myself what the purpose is.
LINKS GOLF
When I was a kid and I read the term, ‘golf links’, I remember figuring the origin of the name was in how the holes are ‘linked’ together, as in a chain. Each hole follows the previous, creating, in the end, eighteen linked holes. (That definition makes sense to me, even now.)
But, no, the term ‘links’ (as applied to a golf course), in fact stems from the rolling, sandy landscape at the edge of the sea, primarily in the UK.
(Incidentally, I have always kind of interchangeably used “England”, “Great Britain”, “Britain” and “United Kingdom” to mean the same chunk of land over there, but here’s the scoop:
England is, well, England. A country that makes up about 60% of Great Britain, which is part of the United Kingdom. Great Britain is the island on which England and Scotland lie. (Well, it’s the one big island and about 900 little islands off the coast, the Hebrides and the like.)
The United Kingdom is the, ahem, kingdom that is united under the British crown: England, Scotland, and Northern Ireland.
Northern Ireland (and Ireland) lie on a second island (guess what it’s called), just west of Great Britain. It used to be entirely under English rule (as did the United States, India, Hong Kong . . . well, most of the known world at one point.) But the plucky Irish decided they’d rule themselves, thank you very much, and bucked off the English lords.
The British were able to hold onto a bit up north, cleverly known as Northern Ireland. (This is the place that U2 used to sing about. It catches fire occasionally.) So, the United Kingdom consists of Great Britain (England and Scotland) and Northern Ireland. Ireland is not part of Great Britain or the United Kingdom. But it’s right there. Kind of like Canada. End of sidebar. Hope you’re thoroughly confused now.)
As I was saying, the term ‘links’ applies to that sandy, windswept land at the edge of the sea which links (get it?) the fertile farm/pastureland with the inhospitable sand. This creates the perfect environment for springy, hearty turf on top of a sandy subsoil which drains exceptionally well.
The ideal golf terrain.
It is also frequently rolling (as coastal sand dunes get grassed over) and virtually treeless, as there is no substantial soil to support tall trees.
So, what has drawn me to links golf? Hard to say, really. Something in my wiring just predisposes me to old-fashioned, classic THINGS. 1957 Corvette or 2009 Ferrari? I’d take the ’57 Vette. Brand new Ibanez electric guitar or classic 70s Telecaster? The Tele, every time. I use a fountain pen, for cripes’ sake! It’s just how I’m wired.
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