A couple of weeks ago, I detailed the family vacation I took to Sweden and Denmark earlier this summer.
Here’s a visual look at my trip via short Instagram snippets.
GHIN
On the back end of that, I went to Scotland for ten days during The Open to play and watch golf. I met my friend Dan Horner (aka “D-Block” aka “Ax Capital” aka “Nicholas Brody”) and we played nearly every round with Scots who are members at each club. Some of these hosts were Dan’s friends from the mid-am golf circuit, some were people we met along the way, and others were just folks who reached out via email or social after they saw we were in Scotland. Without fail, each person’s willingness to host, point out the intricacies on the course, answer a multitude of questions about the area and the club, and just spend quality time on the course reaffirmed everything I love about golf - the willingness to meet strangers and walk off the eighteenth green as friends, the personality of each club, and the couple of phrases or terms I pick up each trip and then repeat in perpetuity (more on that below.)
Here’s a down and dirty, train of thought summary of the trip, along with some lasting reflections…
This trip I flew into Edinburgh, as there were no directs from Stockholm into Glasgow. EDI is always a breeze until you leave the baggage claim in the customs area and make the interminable march to the rental car facility - this remains one of the more soul-crushing walks in all of golf. Driving on the left side of the road becomes less of a consideration with each passing trip to the UK or Australia, and over the last two years, I think I’ve banked seven weeks of experience on that side. This time, I really worked on roundabout skills and mastering when and where to signal in the course of those roundabouts. That said, something that always trips me up is the way that cars park in both directions along both sides of the road - this is disconcerting as often it counteracts other reminders to drive on the left when you’re hopping in the car. I’ve always appreciated road signs in the UK, particularly in Scotland. Simple terms like “Queues Likely” immediately transport me, and names like Kirk of Shotts, Windy-Yett, Crookedholm, and Coodham (I’m not even picking out unique names! - just listing places I passed on the way from EDI to Prestwick) put a smile on my face.
After a ninety-minute drive, I rocked up to Prestwick and met Dan out on the course around the eighth hole. We were hosted by a couple of delightful members (one of whom is a walking conundrum, a +3 handicap who plays Titleist T350 irons - that delighted me to no end!), and I feel like I understand golf and how/why it developed the way it did after playing Prestwick. Just a brilliant course, much more meaty than I anticipated, and grounded in hospitality and camaraderie between members. The place felt like the hub for the golf world during Open week.
We had a 36-hole day at Turnberry on Monday, with the King Robert the Bruce course in the morning. The “B-side” course at the club, it punched above its weight with a spectacular stretch in the middle, the thought-provoking combination of width and bunkering that messes with your eye and alters your depth perception, and a flatter linksland feel than its more-celebrated big brother. In the afternoon, The Ailsa was as good as advertised, and the DT-led changes to the course are brilliant (with the exception of a burn on 16 that feels needlessly artificial), with the stretch from 7 through 11 as picturesque as anything I’ve played worldwide. That said, this is not a course that I’d want to play every day - the walk is big, the dunes are huge, and the golf is more akin to Lahinch or Ballybunion than to other courses in Scotland - big and brooding and a bear if the wind is up. We had it on a placid day, so it’s likely we didn’t get the full experience. It was a bit surreal being at Turnberry less than 36 hours after the DT assassination attempt, especially in the midst of leaving the country for a month, and he was never far away, whether with reminders like gold-plated everything or crests or pictures.
The Midnight Troubadour
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The Ailsa Course
On Tuesday morning, we headed over to Western Gailes and it was love at first sight. We had two excellent hosts and an atypical north wind, so the meat of the golf course was downwind and then we fought for dear life on the closing stretch. There wasn’t one hole that stood out, rather it was a collection of fully-realized holes that brought out the maximum effect of each little hump and dune and slight variation in the direction of play. It helped that I played well, but I can’t wait to return. I’ll also never forget the scent of the locker room - a century of damp cashmere and other whiffs of the distinguished club on a wet coastline. It’s a very complicated, visceral smell that suits the club well, much like the need to wear a coat and tie to and from the course. We were wiped and called off a round at Glasgow Gailes that afternoon to catch up on work, sleep and nourishment.
Wednesday morning arrived and we were refreshed and played Prestwick again. This time, I got the full experience with the quirky shot off the first tee and the Himalayas and then out toward Troon on the far end. After a wonderful lunch, we headed over to Irvine Bogside, which I won’t forget any time soon. A little scruffy in spots, but all the right James Braid stuff I revel in. Every hole is radically different from the last and the next: Bulkheads above bunkers, the train line running hard up against several of the holes (including one of the best short fours in all of Scotland,) and a warm atmosphere to boot. I can’t recommend this place highly e
Source: https://nolayingup.com/blog/ghin-and-tonic-vol-14-tc
