A postcard from Royal Dornoch
So what is a golfer like me doing here? Well, it’s worth pondering.
DORNOCH, Scotland — It is not breaking any news to write that I am not very good at golf. My scores generally range from mediocre to worse than that. I don’t drive it very far, or hit irons with any consistent accuracy, or chip deftly.
And descriptions of my putting might range from “he’s bad” to “he has no clue.”
I am not being self-deprecating. Just accurate.
Yet there I was on Friday, the fifth day of our trip, golfing with eldest son Jason and a nice couple from Texas, at Royal Dornoch Golf Club, an hour’s drive north of Inverness on the Dornoch Firth in northeast Scotland.
There are seemingly dozens of rankings of golf courses. According to Golfweek, Royal Dornoch is the No. 4 best course in the world. It is the highest rated course I’ve ever played; when Jason and I were here six years ago, I think it was No. 2.
We didn’t come either time because of the ranking. The first time was an adventure; we came back because we loved the place so much.
Truly, it is fantastic. The club was founded in 1877, but some form of golf has been played on this coastline for three centuries. The views are spectacular, with elevated tees, fairways that climb and descend, gorse and bunkers and demanding greens.
Wrote the late James W. Finegan: “From the high 3rd tee there is a glorious vista stretching away hole after hole, seemingly without end, sea and hills and linksland. The world has been left far behind, and as we play on, there is this strong sensation of being outward bound, of heading toward land’s end.
“Indeed, we feel we may outrun the district of Sutherland and penetrate to the very wilds of Caithness on this journey over an ancient landscape where so little seems owed to the hand of man.
“Every hole is either a challenge or a delight; many are both … the movement of the ground, the siting of the greens and the menace of the bunkers see to it.”
Friday, we played in sunshine, with the wind strong enough to make you think about club selection and aim, but not enough to ripple your clothes. From the orange tees (6,299 yards, par 70) Jason shot 49-45-94. From the grey tees (5,920 yards, longest I’ve played on this trip) I shot 46-47-93.
Is it worth it, at 320 British pounds ($425) per round? (Thank you, Jason, for the gift.) I think it is if you love it, and truly appreciate the special nature of the course and being able to play it, and we do, and if your score doesn’t totally define your experience.
Sure, some level of competence is essential; to have the feeling that you can hit a fairway, reach a green, make a few pars. In my 93 I hit a lot of good shots, for me, from drives to fairway woods to irons. There was a time that I would have shot 120 on a course like this, and that’s a slog, and so I practice and always hope to get better.
As I looked through the Golfweek rankings, I was humbled by my good luck to have played more than a few of the courses listed. Some of that was from my time as a golf writer, invited to make writing trips to Ireland, North Wales and Scotland (greens fees complementary), and my previous trip here with Jason.
(I’ve also played the wonderful Bandon Dunes courses, on writing trips or at winter rates, and playing here helps one appreciate how amazing those courses are a few hours from home.)
Internationally, I’ve played Turnberry, No. 13; Ballybunion, No. 14; North Berwick, No. 20; Lahinch, No. 27; Carnoustie, No. 29; Kingsbarns, No. 30; Cruden Bay, No. 41; Royal Troon, No. 51; Old Head, T55; Waterville, No. 63; Machrihanish, No. 75, and Prestwick, No. 93.
None of those rounds produced great scores, and a few were way too much for my game at the time. The thing is that I don’t remember the scores, but the companionship with colleagues Tom Cade, Rob Perry and Blaine Newnham talking golf in pubs after the rounds.
And I cherish every step of the way with Jason, and every mile we drive through this beautiful countryside where sheep graze on bright green fields, and yellow expanses of mustard flowers bloom, and where every little town is like a trip back in time to the early 1900s.
I love golf, love being immersed in it on a trip like this. So, here I am.
Now, if only I could make a few more putts.
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