It’s a long drive north, from Wexford to Portstewart, but
you certainly appreciate the Major Inter-Urbans (motorways to you and me) when
the trip to the Border takes under two and a half hours, courtesy of the M11, M50
and M1. Then you’re back on the ‘A’ roads, travelling through Northern Ireland
on winding single lane roads, and sitting in traffic jams in country towns on
market day wondering which idiots haven’t built a bypass.
The Celtic Tiger didn’t leave us much in terms of a positive
legacy, but at least we have one hell of a good road network.
My tee time was 2.20 on a sunny Saturday afternoon, courtesy
of an invitation from an American golf writer, Dave Owen. Actually, that’s a
lie, because I invited myself. Dave wrote an article on his Irish golfing travels last year
and in it he said he would be returning this Spring, so I got in touch,
wrangled an invitation and arranged the weather – it was the least I could do.
Dave was starting at Portstewart and Royal Portrush and then
making his way west, playing a bunch of his personal favourites (which just
happen to be mine too). He’d brought along six friends for the journey, some of
whom had never been to Ireland before, and some of whom had never played links
golf before. This was a slap-in-the-face introduction if ever there was one.
I chose to meet them at Portstewart for four reasons:
·
It was a weekend
·
It has a new clubhouse I had yet to see
·
It has the most stunning start in Irish golf and
what is often considered the best opening 9 holes on the island
·
I needed photographs (and boy was I snap-happy)
Perfect Views
The clubhouse was opened in 2009. It is big, luxurious and
perfectly positioned with a vast expanse of glass wrapped around the bar so you
can look out on the course and down the spectacular 1st hole. I was watching
fourball after fourball tee off, but only after most of the golfers stopped and
stared at the glorious surroundings: the Inishowen peninsula rises out of the
ocean to the north west, dark and brooding; Mussenden Temple stands proudly on
the headland in the distance, almost directly ahead; and the perfect beach streams
off into the distance below you, white caps racing like stallions across the
sand.
[Photo: views from the 1st tee]
When it comes to kicking off a round of golf, it doesn’t get
better than this, and the dunes that await you are as mesmerising as they are
terrifying.
And all this from the bar in the clubhouse!
We were eating our food when Delwyn, the bar manager, passed
by. He's been with the club for 22 years, so I asked him about the new clubhouse and he was happy to fill me in.
The place can host a wedding for 280, he told us, and couples
regularly have their photographs taken on the 1st tee.
I wondered how many brides were golfers, and how many
expected their new husband to get up the following morning and return to the
same spot for entirely different reasons.
“It’s alright, love,” he’d say, “we’ll have plenty of time
to catch our flight, but I’m just going to squeeze in a quick round before the
honeymoon starts.”
Liar. There’s no such thing as quick round of golf at
Portstewart. It’s too big, glorious and tricky for that.
[Photo: the approach to the dogleg par four 8th]
Dave arrived shortly afterwards. I recognised him from his
New Yorker picture. He introduced his six companions and I introduced my golf
widow wife – it seemed a fair exchange.
And shortly after that we were on the tee. My wife watched
from the clubhouse, no doubt hoping that I started with a good drive. I’d
played a match the previous day with my father and we had been thrashed 7 &
5, so I was not in the best of golfing spirits. Then again, this was not about
playing good golf – it was about experiencing the heady thrills of playing
Portstewart again, and weaving my way through a run of dunes known as ‘God’s
Own Country’… and picking Dave’s brains, of course.
[Photo: tee shot on the 1st]
I was playing alongside Dave, David and Tim, and we stood on
the tee and made the appropriate noises of approval, even as an anvil-head of
dark clouds and rain swept across from Inishowen. They never reached us and we
spent most of the next four hours playing in glorious April sunshine.
In Hooked I talk about the ‘golf experience’ of playing a
course. Early on, before the reviews start, I mention the different things that
are a vital part of that experience: weather is one; great company another; and
playing well a third. Two out of three ain’t bad, and playing poorly matters
little when you’re having fun. It makes you realise that you can play any
course and, no matter how bad the quality, as long as the company’s
entertaining you’ll usually have a blast.
Five Penny Piece
The shot of the day belonged to Dave, on the par three 6th
hole, which I rate as the best 6th hole in the country. Take a look and you’ll
see why.
[Photo: Five Penny Piece]
A mere 135 yards, the hole is called Five Penny Piece
because the green doesn’t look much bigger than that from the tee and the sides
are steep and will swat balls away into deep troughs below. If you get this far
and haven’t realised the premium placed on finding the putting surface, you are
guaranteed a long day. 10 holes have severe slopes rising up to them. They will
make you cry!
I don’t know what Dave hit into the two club wind that was
coming from about two o’clock, but the ball never budged from the flag. It cut
through the wind and landed close to the hole. All the way I thought he was
going to bag an ace and when we reached the green, his pitch mark was less than
an inch away. It started the inevitable conversation about holes in one. I
wasn’t contributing much since I’ve never had one, and ‘almost’ doesn’t cut it.
[Photo: David tees off on the par five 4th with Tim looking on]
My only quibble with Portstewart is not an uncommon one. The
club promises the most exhilarating start, which lasts for 12 holes, before the
pace slows and then ends tamely, with 16 and 18 being the least interesting on
the course. After holes 1 to 9, it would be almost impossible to maintain that
level of excitement, so Portstewart offers the best of whatever’s left… but you
might find yourself walking towards the 16th and 18th greens (side by side
under the clubhouse), glancing across at the dunes of the front nine, at the
flags of holes 8 and 9 that shimmer in the late sunlight, and at the glory of
the 1st tee box that will remain with you for a very long time.
[Photo: views across the 16th to the 9th green (left) and 8th green (centre), and God's Own Country beyond]
Despite that sense of longing, Portstewart is a thrilling
round of golf, and the bar is as welcome a spot in the evening as it is in the
morning. The rest of the lads – Tony, Tim, Jack and Howard – joined us in the
bar for the post round analysis and scoring. My wife and I were invited for
dinner, but we were heading in the opposite direction, and I didn’t want to
overstay my welcome – the guys had landed from New York that morning and were
about to embark on seven days of 36 holes. They were going to need their rest.
As they left, it was made clear that I was welcome to play
golf in Washington, Connecticut, whenever I happen to be over that way.
Our hotel was the York Inn, in Portstewart, overlooking the
Old course. After dinner we walked into town at around 11pm and found Morelli’s
open and buzzing. No, not a bar - an ice cream parlour. Despite my dinner I
managed to squeeze in some Toffee Crunch and Rhubarb & Custard ice cream. That’s
what I call a perfect end to a perfect day.
Links:
David Owen is a writer for Golf Digest and the New Yorker.
He is the author of several books, and not just about golf.
The Point of a Great Itinerary (my scores for David's chosen courses)
Portstewart 89
Royal Portrush 92
Ballyliffin Old 92 Glashedy 90
Portsalon 90
Narin & Portnoo 92
Donegal/Murvagh 94
Enniscrone 96
Carne 93
[Photo: Dave reflects on what might have been on the 6th green]
No comments:
Post a Comment