→Links course covered in this blog - Kingsbarns

I know what you are thinking. Only twenty-four hours in St. Andrews, are you crazy? Bear with me, there was a method to our madness. Suffice it to say that this was my 2nd trip to Scotland, the first an off the beaten-path one week trip with friends, focused on the Hebrides Islands. This trip would be a deeper dive into some of my icons of Links Golf—Royal Dornoch, Prestwick, Royal Troon, and a few key Old Tom designs—Machrihanish and Cruden Bay.

After months of planning (on our own) Scooter and I put together a full schedule of golf. Eleven rounds over twelve days, covering four different areas of the country. It was based upon our fallen friend Woody, and his years of studying the early architects and courses that would impact Links golf for years to come.

One thing that I had learned was that a memorable trip to the Linksland involves not only great courses, but also the charming towns and villages where they reside, and the interesting characters that shape the experience.

We knew that we had to be prepared to call an audible or two when needed. Little did we know we would call the first one before we even flew over the pond.

Although The Old Course in St. Andrews was not in our plans for this trip—we wanted to at least dip our toes in the water and get a glimpse of the Amphitheater that defines the 18th fairway--the buildings that line the right side of the fairway, the clubhouse, and the Swilican bridge.

During my research, I found out that The Old Course is closed for play on Sundays. The exception being for The Open, the Alfred Dunhill Links Championship and a few other tournaments during the year.

Scooter also came up with a great idea. What better way to soak up the atmosphere than lunch on the outside patio at The Jigger? We scored a reservation at Noon, and figured we would grab lunch and a pint then get a firsthand glimpse at one of the best walks in all of golf.

A couple of weeks before our flight over the pond, the Dunvegan informed me of a cancellation for Saturday night at their #5 guest house near Golfers Corner Bar at North Street and Pilmour Place. As they proudly advertise “only a 9-iron from the first tee at the Old Course.” I decided to double-down on the audible.

We coupled that with a last minute early-morning Sunday tee time at Kingsbarns-- what a wonderful way it would be to cap off the twelve-day links festival. Our only casualty would be a tee-time at Murcar, a wonderful links track in Aberdeen. In hindsight, our 60-year old legs needed a break, as did our backs.

We took a cab there Saturday morning from the St. Olaf in Cruden Bay as we had a pre-arranged ride to St. Andrews after our round. We wanted to get a feel for what we were missing and plead our case for a refund. No go, only a credit for next time, as is typical these days at most courses in the Isles as well as the States.

We loved the Head Pro and everyone we encountered at Murcar and we are looking forward to returning, and combining it with a loop at Royal Aberdeen, just next door. The time we spent time outside waiting for our ride and having a putting contest in a steady, Irish-mist of a rain was priceless. It reminded us of our experiences at the Scarlet Course at OSU in Columbus, just before dusk, on a crisp fall afternoon.

As it turned out, it was a tournament day for the members and many of them approached us asking us about our trip, where we had been and how we were enjoying their wonderful Country. We felt a bit like Tom Coyne on his walk around Ireland, and how gracious they were for us coming.

I think it would be a great short Links trip in and of itself, for those short on time. Combine Murcar with Royal Aberdeen, and a short trip up to Cruden Bay for two rounds with a stay at St. Olaf’s. Even a round at Peterhead to the north, to top it off!

As we approached St. Andrews that Saturday afternoon and came upon the last round-a-bout and approached Pilmour Place, I felt like a youngster on my first roller coaster ride. I had that rush of adrenaline and that feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had read about the town and watched The Open on TV since I was a youngster, growing up in the 60’s & 70’s, and now we would get to experience it live, in person.

The Dunvegan

It turned out that the hotel Dunvegan is completely digital. No analog involved, no front desk or bell captain. You simply go up to the end of the bar to check in. While Scooter watched out bags out front, a nice server asked me where we were staying,

“At No. 5,” I answered.

“Follow me, it is just a couple doors down.” I had checked in the day before via email and website, which contained a code for the front door, and my room number. There were three floors with two suites on each. The main level had a small kitchen where they prepared breakfasts and any catered parties, a common dining room and a very cozy library with a fireplace. I remember feeling lucky that we got booked there as it was only three weeks prior to coming to Scotland, and they had a last-minute cancelation. We could have spent a week there and tucked into the library every night with a book and a dram. “Hey Scooter, can you throw another log on the fire?”

She bid farewell and told me if we needed anything, just enquire at the bar.

The Dunvegan

I think the word that best describes The Dunvegan is iconic. It is certainly one of the most well-known pubs for golfers, and just like playing the Old Course, everyone must do their pilgrimage at some point in their lives.

It is a gathering place where golfers, and non-golfers alike converge, from all levels of society, and all corners of the World. Scots, Irish, Brits, Americans, Canadians, French, Germans, Japanese, you name it. Foursomes that just walked off the 18th having their first pint and reveling in the stories of their great pars and birdies that were not to be, as well as tourists that just want to soak in the vibe.

Within the first 20 minutes that we were there, we shared a table and a pint with an elderly Scottish couple that make the pilgrimage to St. Andrews and the Dunvegan twice yearly, and a young 20ish lad that was a student at the University, who had just finished his round on The Old Course—he was beaming.

“Take a guess at how much my season passe costs to play the Old Course (and the others in town, New, Castle, etc.)? he asked us.

“I’m guessing a little less than the £340that the tourists pay,” I responded.

“£370 for the year for a full ticket!”

“Old Tam, I always wanted to brush-up on my 18th & 19th Century English Literature and Poetry,” Scooter quickly announced.

“Do you know of any apartments in town that we can sublet?” he asked our new young friend.

The Dunvegan is not exceptionally large, but very cozy and it is loud and raucous. There is always golf (in some form) playing on the two huge TVs, or. If you are lucky enough to get there at the right time--who knows when that is—you can grab a seat outside overlooking North Street and soak in the afternoon.

It had been what seemed like 10 hours since breakfast at Murcar, so we tucked in and had lunch in the bar. We soaked in the ambiance. Fish & Skin-On Chips for O’Flaherty, and a Cheese & Jalapeno Burger for Old Tam.

The best part about the Dunvegan is that it’s not a 19th hole--in the true sense of the word—residing in the clubhouse, just off the 18th green. But it might as well be, as it exudes golf from every inch of its’ being. The floors, walls, ceilings, pictures, decorations, conversations—and whisky!

The pictures that adorn every inch of wall space, as well as ceiling space, speak 1000s of words. All the greats! Every golfer you can imagine, including those that have won The Open: The Golden Bear, The King, The Black Knight, Merry Mex, Watson, Norman, Miller, Ballesteros, Faldo, Price, Baker-Finch, Daly, Els, Tiger, Padraig, Clarke, Lyle, Lawrie, Rory, Lowry, and many more. They have all been there. Jack stayed at the Dunvegan every time The Open was held at the Old Course.

Kingsbarns:

Kingsbarns lies on a wonderful property along a little less than two miles of shoreline, about 10 minutes south of St. Andrews The history of the course dates to 1793 when the Kingsbarns Golfing Society was recognized as an official group, its members clad in unique blue jackets, playing matches against the rival Crail Golf Society. This lasted 50 years until which time the land was reclaimed for farming and ploughed over by the tenant farmer of Cambo Estate.

It would be another 80 years until Lady Erskine of Cambo revived the Golfing Society and hired Willie Auchterlonie who designed a 9-hole course. This time it lasted until WWII when the land was then mined for military defense purposes.

The rebirth of Kingsbarns, as we know it today, began with the opening in July of 2000. Kyle Phillips’ design was the first links course to open for play in Scotland in the past 70 years.

It must have been 3:00 in the morning when I heard the light pitter-patter of rain on the windowsill of our room at The Dunvegan #5. I immediately thought, well, we have had nine rounds of dry golf in Scotland, we are due for a downpour. No go. No rain gear needed. It stopped by around 6:00 when we woke up to pack and catch our taxi.

We arrived about 25 minutes prior to our tee time, and were greeted by the starter, a smiling, bearded nice gentleman that gave us the lay of the land. We would be the third group off that morning, and after a few practice putts, we gathered on the 1st tee. A threesome of Chinese tourists would tee-off before us, we would only see them on a couple holes throughout the round, they kept-up a good pace.

We were paired with a Father and Son from Detroit, and they both had caddies.

We had a mini audience on the tee. I stepped-up and striped one about 240 down the middle, right of a fairway bunker. Scooter followed suit and hit his patented buttercup fade to the right side.

The two Michiganders seemed nervous, and both dribbled a couple soccer shots that wound up thirty yards forward near the red tees in some high gorse We walked ahead and it seemed like 10 minutes later when their balls rolled up just short of our drives.

We had a chance to chat with them a bit on the first green, and we discussed where we were all from. The youngster was attending Michigan State (as Scooter did pursuing basketball), and Dad was a big Red Wings fan. I told him that my loyalty was with the Colorado Avalanche, and I was fortunate to be a season ticket holder through our two Stanley Cups in ’96 and 2001.

It probably didn’t help that I rubbed it in a bit when I said that I idolized Paddy Roy, one of the greatest goalies of all time. Not to mention the best wingers that centered the best one-two punch of lines you could imagine--Sakic and Forsberg. He got a scowl on his face as he headed off to find his drive that he punched deep into the rough, about 150 yards off the tee.

One of their caddies, the elder of the two, caught up with us walking to our drives on number three and with a nice smile said.

“I think it would be a great idea If you lads go and play on. I’ve got me hands full today.”

He was right, and I immediately thought to myself, that we just avoided dropping the gloves for a hockey fight without skates on the next tee.

Kingsbarns reminded me a lot of Brora and Royal Dornoch—with its big dunes, elevations and sweeping vistas to the Sea. When we were planning the trip early on, our buddy Paddy told me “Kingsbarns is a must, it is beautiful and reminds me of Cypress Point.” He’s the only living person I know that played Cypress, the other was Woody.

When we hit number four tee, we settled into the round, and another beautiful walk. It would be only the 4th time that the two of us were able to play by ourselves—along with Royal Troon, Cruden Bay and Brora. We quickly got into our groove; the banter was flowing. We were both making some putts. Part of it was that we were coming off our only rest day of the trip, and the other was we realized, oh my, we’ve been in Scotland for two weeks and this is the final round.

We both had pars on number three, the easiest of the three par-5s, and I remember that the next four holes turned back south toward the clubhouse and were on a plateau up one dune from the sea. All are beautiful, tough par-4s, and the hardest hole on the course was number seven, a raised fairway that narrows the closer you get to the green, which was undulating and massive, but leaves no bailout.

It was a toss-up for which stretch of holes was my favorite, but the nod goes to eleven through fifteen. Eleven is a 400-yard par 4 from the up tees--aptly named “Woods” --that plays towards the woods that flow down to the water. I was able to thread a low punch 5-iron around the bunker, to make an eight-foot birdie—my last one of the trip.

After a nice walk through the woods—part of a trail that everyone walks with their dogs—you come to number twelve, dubbed Ordeal, a fantastic scenic par-5 that heads back out to the south along the sea. It cards over 605 yards from the tips and was one of the prettiest holes we played in Scotland—and my favorite. Per what our friend Paddy said months before, it did indeed remind me of Cypress Point and Pebble Beach.

Fifteen is everything that you could ask for from a par 3 and more. It is called Rocky Ness and is a dramatic uphill 220 yards from the tips, across the water to a green that jutted out into a little peninsula with the water on 3 sides. Into the prevailing wind, a gut-wrencher of a shot that can be anywhere from a 6-iron to a 3-wood. From the up tees, I hit a 5-iron that was straight down Broadway and just left of the pin.

We came upon a Scotsman walking down the path toward the woods with his retriever as we approached the green.

“That was a good shot, what did ye hit?” he asked as I petted his dog.

“I hit a five-iron well, but not sure if it held the green or not,” I replied. Turns out it didn’t hold and trickled into the back bunker; I missed my par putt but loved the hole.

Sixteen is the last of the par 5’s, and skirts the beach and sea on the right, down a corridor of the best dunes on the course, with a whopping 11 bunkers. But what wreaks havoc is the burn meandering around the back of the green from left to right. This hole reminded me of the dunes and heather on Western Gailes.

Eighteen was a great finishing hole. I remembered it from watching the Alfred Dunhill Cup tournament the previous fall. It required a long second-shot over a burn and huge bunker fronting the elevated green. As we finished, we walked up the hill to the clubhouse perched atop a hill overlooking the Firth of Forth. We were both exhausted and exhilarated.

Even though Kingsbarns is not a typical links course, and one of the most recent to be created—I agree that it should be rated in the top 100 in the World. It is as difficult as it is beautiful, and very exhausting, both physically and mentally.

What I liked about it was the routing that Kyle Phillips did. There are holes along the beach/sea that go both North 2, 3, 15-17, and number 12 that goes South. He also designed Dundonald on the Ayrshire Coast next to Western Gailes, where they held the Gal’s Scottish Open the week prior.

Phillips isn’t as well known in the States as Coore & Crenshaw, Doak or Hanse, but I like his style—wide open fairways, with most of the challenge being on the approaches to the greens. Like Doak and Hanse’s styles.

I looked at Scooter as we made the walk up the hill toward the clubhouse and said, “do you think we have time for a pint before we make it back to the Dunvegan and walk to the Jigger?”

“You better believe we do, and we’ve earned it.” He spoke. “Grab me a Tennents, and I’ll have them get us a taxi back.”

He turned in our trollies to the wonderful starter, and left our clubs and gear out front, as I made my way into the 19th hole. I was greeted by the cheery Scottish lass that was there to give me a coffee earlier.

“How did ya fare out tere?” she asked.

“We did well, it was a beautiful walk, and we survived.” I grinned. “I can see why you are so stressed-out working here!”

“Right! Why would I ever want to leave?” She said, like a true ambassador. “There is an open table outside, what do ye think?”

“Perfect, and the view looks awesome. Do you have Tennents?

“No, we promote local beers and whiskey…I think ye would like our Bellhaven. It’s a lager and very similar. Go have a seat and I’ll bring them out.”

I took a quick stroll through the pro-shop and scored a nice shirt, then headed outside. The clubhouse sits up on the highest point of the property, so the view over the 18th green and beyond to the firth was spectacular. It was as cool as Cruden Bay’s 19th hole and panorama. Scooter arrived and toasted our wonderful day, and last round of golf. There was a gentleman to our left sitting down and soaking in the view as well.

He jumped in on the conversation first.

“Well, the view really sucks, but hey, we’ll have to power through.” He was wearing a cowboy hat and boots and a warm smile, ear to ear.

“How did you hit’em out there?” I responded.

“Let’s just say that it was a glorious day, and a tough walk,” as he looked down to the brace on his right knee. “A couple guys bagged out on my buddy, so I pinched-hit and came on this trip with him.”

“Well done, you took one for the team,” we said in unison.

“My knee is pretty much down to bone on bone, but you only go-around once!” We could tell that he had a great outlook on life.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Texas, central Texas. Live on a ranch outside of a small town. You guys?”

He asked where we had been and we told him about the past two weeks, and that this was our last day and that we had to see St. Andrews and play a course here before we left.

“Did you play the Old Course?” he asked, as everyone does.

“No, it is closed today, and every Sunday except for when The Open is there,” I interjected, and we weren’t here long enough to try. “Just Kingsbarns here in this area. We did want to make it here to Disneyland, though, and have lunch at The Jigger, “I laughed.

“A buddy of ours calls this the McDonalds of golf, over 3 billion served.” I said. “He always says that everyone must eat at McDonalds occasionally. But if you want to dine gourmet, you hit the other gems like Troon, Prestwick, Royal Dornoch, Muirfield, Cruden Bay, Machrihanish.”

He grinned and understood, “I’m going to use that line back home if you don’t mind?”

“Absolutely, my friend” I said. We said our goodbyes and wished him well.

We certainly want to play the Old Course and look forward to playing it as well as the Castle, Eden, and Elie and others. We did get to “dip our toes in the water,” and thoroughly enjoyed the little more than 24 hours we were there.

Next time, we will do St. Andrews proper and spend a week in the town as well as hop up to Carnoustie, and down south to North Berwick for a night or two at The Ducks Inn.

The Jigger

The Old Course Hotel, located along the right side of the Road Hole (17), is a recognizable landmark for anyone who has ever watched The Open at the Old Course on TV.Off the tee, players aim to drive the ball over the hotel, preferably with a fade, to position their second shot strategically. The Jigger is a part of that hotel, with an outside patio dining area that looks out to the green and the famous Road Hole Bunker.

The wonderful thing is that when you get your reservation, you get the table for 2 hours including during The Open. Not as good as the ‘table for the night’ concept in Turkey, but close. I cannot think of a better lunch vantage point in all of Links’ golf. We were greeted by the young Matre’d who escorted us out back. He gave us our choice and I chose a table a bit back from the edge, under the big tent thinking it would be out of the direct Sun, as it was a hot August beach day in St. Andrews. It gave us a magnificent view of The Road Hole Green to the right, and up the 18th Fairway and Amphitheater to our left

I spoke to a twosome of logo-sporting golfers from the States who noticed my Royal Troon hat and they, like us, were ending up their trip. They had played a lot of the courses that we played up North--Brora, Royal Dornoch, Castle Stewart and Cruden Bay, but spent most of their time in and around St. Andrews. They did not make it south down to the Mull of Kintyre or to The Hebrides, nor to the Ayrshire coast, and I gave them good food for thought for the next time.

Scooter and I soaked in the ambiance and our server, Scotty, came by with a smile and a menu.

“There was a whiskey that I tried a few days back, and I can’t remember the name,” Scooter said, with the Belushi raised right brow. “It sounded like my good friend, here, Tom Atkins, minus the S.”

“Oh, that is an easy one, Sir! Ye must be thinking of Tomatin…a highland malt,” he said confidently.

“Schidoobie,” Scooter said, which is our wild card word that can really mean anything, typically only Rolling Stones fans recognize it.

“Shattered!” Scotty replied, with a grin.

“I’ll have one of those and a Tennents please,” Scooter nodded.

“I’ll have a Guiness” I said, remembering that I had only had a few the whole trip, usually opting for Tennents.

“Can you believe that we are here at The Jigger? Scooter said. “On a Saturday (when you are retired, every day is a Saturday) which is really a Sunday. Gazing out at The Road Hole that we have been watching on TV since we were young Lads, with 20” black and white Zeniths in the living room?”

“Another great Saturday, I’ve got goosebumps,” I said.

We both felt like Woody was there with us. He told us to call the audible to go to St. Andrews, as he had never been there. Just as he told us to make Cruden Bay and Machrihanish a priority when we were in our 20’s. He also told me to choose a table under the tent, on the patio at The Jigger, on a 68-degree sunny, beautiful St. Andrews afternoon. Of course, a downpour ensued 30 minutes later right when we got our food.

Scooter ordered the fish ‘n chips for the 27th time on the trip. I, on the other hand, on a whim, shifted gears and opted for the Feta Sandwich. Open faced, on wonderfully toasty sourdough, with tomatoes, onions, black olives and parsley, topped with a hint of olive oil. In Scotland, are you kidding me? I felt like we were dining on the Bosphorus in Istanbul. The chippies were the best of the trip.

I raised my glass to Scoots, and said, “Slan

“Aye, Lad, Slan,” he replied. After a long sip of the whisky, with his eyes closed, he added, “to whisky and freedom!”

“Here’s to us, Scoots,” As I raised my glass again. “We did a hell of job for old geezers. Nine rounds in a row. Walking ten rounds in eleven days…not bad!”

“I feel like I could go another nine rounds,” Scooter said. “All I need is my wardrobe back!”

American Airlines lost his bag 10 days prior, he was a trooper, and did some damage on his credit card, buying clothes at every stop.

“You are in the best shape since you took on Magic Johnson as a young lad at Michigan State! Let’s check with the ladies and see if we can get our kitchen passes extended,” I said. “We’ll make a beeline back to Dornoch for a week, over to Islay, then ferry it over to Arran for a round at Shishkine, then come back to the Dunvegan.”

“Done deal,” he said as he pulled out his phone and popped up Google. “I’m searching for anywhere within a 25-mile radius that has a hot tub.”

A Great Walk—Unspoiled

Feeling good after a great lunch at The Jigger, we had time to take another lap around the amphitheater. We decided to do it right, so we went counterclockwise, or left out of the hotel, back toward 17th tee, then over to reverse around #2 and back up #1 fairway. We then played an imaginary four holes, 1-2, and 17/18. hit our imaginary tee shots and walked up the fairway to the green, soaking in the ambiance with the other locals, dogs and tourists.

It truly is hard to describe unless you experience if firsthand. Television really does not do it justice. The tee shot on 17 is gut-wrenching. There is no bailout, only the side of a hotel to hit right, and you certainly don’t want to double-cross your drive and end up way left with a 5 or 3 wood over or around the Road Hole Bunker. Walking up 18 is priceless and I just can’t wait to hit a tee shot and walk over the Swilican Bridge.

My immediate thought was that how cool it was to be able to walk the hallowed grounds of The Old Course, on a Sunday where so many great golfers had been. It is Impossible to just walk onto any of famous courses where they’ve had Opens, or PGA’s, let alone Augusta. It just doesn’t happen, and that is what makes this walk so special.

If you ever find yourself in St. Andrews over the weekend, and there is not a tournament going on, have a pint at The Dunegan or The Jigger, and take dead aim—and bring an umbrella just in case.

• Old Tam

https://www.kingsbarns.com/

Travel Tips:

Lodging:

Old Course Hotel - https://www.oldcoursehotel.co.uk/

Rusacks - https://marineandlawn.com/rusacksstandrews/

The Dunvegan - https://www.dunvegan-hotel.com/

Walks & Sites:

The Old Course on a (non-Tournament) Sunday

Town-The Cathedral, Cemetery (Old Tom’s grave site), The Beach, Himalayas (putting course). The R&A World Golf Museum, Aquarium, St. Andrews Castle (Ruins)

Walk down The Scores Road, along the water/beach to the St Andrews Castle (Ruins), then loop back on North Street to The Dunvegan `