Visiting the UK and playing at the home of golf

After over 20 years of never venturing across the Atlantic Ocean, I was fortunate to spend a week and a half with my family in the United Kingdom. This was an eventful 10-day trip, and I got the chance to do some things I never could dream of anywhere else.

We started off in London, which is tough to describe without comparing it to things I’ve seen. London is New York, Los Angeles, Washington and Boston rolled into one city. It’s the political, cultural and economic center of everything, with a few centuries-old buildings and places sprinkled around. We saw the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace, and celebrated a regular Sunday Mass in Westminster Cathedral (there’s certainly something jarring about walking through a city, making a turn and stumbling across a centuries-old monstrosity like we did). We took a day and ventured out to Windsor Castle, Bath and Stonehenge.

Huh. Rocks.

Then we went to Edinburgh and stayed in a condo downtown. Walking from home to a restaurant, we could cross the street and see a damn castle on a big hill. It’s majestic. We later visited the castle, which was awesome, and walked the Royal Mile because of course. It’s a beautiful city, and I enjoyed being in the center of it for a little while. At the end of the trip, we drove up to Inverness, where we stayed for just a couple days before driving back. The views while driving through Scotland are unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed.

But the reason I was looking forward to this trip for so long, and the reason I’ll remember it as long as any family vacation, is the golf. I joined my dad and family friend Keith for three rounds in Scotland, all at incredible venues. Our tee times were all booked months in advance, and we were lucky that the weather cooperated with us for the most part. Here’s the rundown of everywhere we went.  

THURSDAY, JUNE 29—ST. ANDREW’S (JUBILEE COURSE)

Rain, wind and sand won this day. It wasn’t close.

We drove the hour and a half from Edinburgh to St. Andrew’s in the rain. At the end of the journey, we made a left turn and suddenly saw the promised land. Behind a few buildings were the start and finish to the Old Course, with the hotel in the background. We drove a little further to the parking lot, checked in and warmed up on the green a bit. There was time to practice more than we did, but we had lunch and stayed dry while we could.

Looks like we're ready for some fun, right?

The course is widely referred to as the hardest on the property, and after a couple easy holes, it became clear why. I started bogey-par and thought I was headed for a fine round, but took a 9 on the par 5 third and kept struggling from there. The two holes that stand out a couple weeks later are the par 4s at #8 and #15. The former is a long dogleg left that played incredibly long and difficult into the wind; lost my second shot in gorse. The latter is a shorter hole, but it’s tricky because of a false front on the green, and the mounds on both sides are almost like walls.

It was raining sideways all afternoon long. Winds were somewhere between 30 and 45 mph throughout the round. Everyone was miserable, or at least seemed so. My shoes were soaked by the fourth hole or so. I didn’t look at my phone and hardly ever brought out the scorecard because it was raining so hard. The whole thing was survival, and my game didn’t hold up at all, but I embraced all of it. I’ll think of this weather every time I see it mess with players in the British Open or Scottish Open or anything comparable. It’s an experience I can’t find anywhere else in the world.

There are seven courses at St. Andrew's. I was fortunate to play two of them.

FRIDAY, JUNE 30—ST. ANDREW’S (OLD COURSE)

Over a decade ago, when I played Tiger Woods Golf for the first time, this was the first course I selected. As I’ve grown to love and appreciate the game over the years, the Old Course seemed more and more like a sacred place. I’d wanted to play it ever since the days of nine-hole rounds at local executive courses. To actually get out here, we had to enter a lottery in the fall and agree to play another course on the property (Jubilee was chosen for us), but we got the nod in November. I had been eager for this day ever since then. I did worry from time to time that the weather would be miserable, and Thursday’s conditions amplified that. But this round was pretty much everything I wanted it to be.

We woke up at 4 a.m. and left at 4:30. We got to the course at 6 and teed off at 7. When we crossed the Swilcan Bridge and finished the round, it was just after 11. There was a constant breeze, but it was never unpleasant; we didn’t catch a single drop of rain. We spent the early afternoon wandering around the area, eating lunch in the closest pub and browsing through all the shops surrounding the first and last holes. I spent plenty of time above the stairs between #1 and #18, watching players start and finish their rounds, and I could just stand there for hours more. It’s my new favorite place, really.

The course itself is surreal. You can tell it’s old when you’re walking it. Your heart beats a little faster on the first hole (more so on the second shot over the burn than on the tee shot) and picks back up coming down the stretch. It seems old and basic, but seeing the undulations all over the place first-hand, you really appreciate what a special place it is. It’s not a long course—they stretch it to some 7300 yards for the Open, but we played it at a modest 6300—but its tricks still make it a test.

It me, trying to play sideways out of a bunker on #7.

I played pretty poorly, battling a two-way miss on the tee and going the whole round without making a significant putt. I was in two pot bunkers: the crescent thing in front of the seventh green and Hell Bunker on #14 (I had a hybrid to the green on my second shot but topped it). It took me three shots to get out of both. In good news, though, I drove the green on #9 and #12, converting the birdie just before the turn. A strong five-hole stretch from #8-12 kept me in double digits. On the last three holes, which all have famous out-of-bounds to the right, I hit a duck hook to the left (on the Road Hole, I took a “provisional” and knocked one straighter). You never want to go to a destination course like this and fight your game, but I’ll remember being awestruck more than anything.

It's the Swilcan Damn Bridge, folks.

SUNDAY, JULY 2—ROYAL DORNOCH

We usually play three rounds of golf during a one-week vacation, so playing two St. Andrew’s courses left us one more place. Dornoch, however, is definitely not an afterthought. It’s right up there with the Old Course on most “Best in the World” lists, even though there isn’t an extensive championship history there. On a surprisingly calm Sunday afternoon, we got to see what it was all about.

The course is hidden astonishingly well, and it’s a tiny place. You can’t see it driving through the town, and don’t even realize what you’re looking at until you get down to the miniscule parking lot. The clubhouse is sizeable but understated. There’s a practice green and, apparently somewhere, a range. It doesn’t seem special until you play a couple holes.

After a short par 4 and an uphill, undulating par 3, I realized the beauty of the place on the third tee. It bends to the left, but both shots are somewhat obscured. There’s mounds and bunkers scattered in just the right places. The rest of the course from there is low-key perfect: every hole is a little different, you can always see the ocean, and there’s never a boring shot. #8 and #17 have massive drops in the fairway. #14 and #18 are super long par 4s; the course closes with five straight two-shotters. We played it at about 6600 yards, and it wasn’t clear how far they could stretch it back. Because of how tight everything is, though, they should be just fine.

As is apparently the case with small operations like this, they didn’t have stiff-shafted clubs for us. I used regular shafts for about a year too long in high school, so I knew not to expect much, especially with the longer clubs. Surprisingly, I drove it rather well on the front nine, only to consistently slice my way into trouble on the back. This was pretty much how my round went. I was solid on the front, even birdieing the par 5 ninth to go out in 42. Things came apart as soon as the next hole, and I stumbled and bumbled my way in. I left the course disappointed in my game, but I hope I’ll remember the course’s subtle and glaring beauties longer than any of that.

I hope to return to the UK for more golf in the future; it feels like we didn’t even scratch the surface of spectacular venues we could play. But in my first taste of golf over here, all three rounds were unforgettable. I’ll be telling stories about this week for a long time.