Scotland Trip
WELCOME TO MY SCOTLAND TRIP TRAVEL BLOG
Last summer, I was lucky enough to go to Scotland to play some of the oldest and most famous golf courses in the world. Originally, this blog was supposed to be a travel blog for me to remember the trip, but now I’m going to make the site a full-on golf blog. So, without further ado, here’s a trip in back in time to my experience in
THAT DIDN’T GO ACCORDING TO PLAN…
June 26, 2009 –>
The day had finally arrived. I hadn’t done anything until the morning of, so I had a jam-packed morning of packing. I did some of my laundry and my dad did a little, so I had mental packing finished and just had to put the clothes in the bag. I got home from school two weeks ago and still have all my clothes, shoes and random stuff sitting around in our basement, making the packing a little more difficult and hit-or-miss. I still have all the clothes on hangers sitting in the back seat of my car, but that’s another story. But, the 3 o’clock departure time we set was met and my dad, Nick and I left in good spirits ready for our roughly 10 hour travel time that would take us from the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky Airport to Newark and from Newark to Edinburgh, Scotland by 10AM on the 27th.
My mom and sister had been traveling in Ireland for a week and a half prior to our 8 day excursion to Scotland, with them scheduled to arrive home a mere hour after we were scheduled to leave, giving the boys a little under a month without face-to-face interaction with the females of the family. It didn’t suck.
As we drove to the airport, the women called because they were back in the States, down in Atlanta. Nick told them, “The mood in the van is one of excitement;” a fair assessment by all means.
After arriving at the airport, checking our bags and passing through security within a half hour, we got to our gate around 4:30, an hour and 45 minutes before our flight was scheduled to leave. Around 5:15, Uncle Mark overheard another customer being told that the flight we were on was canceled because of bad weather in Newark not allowing planes to land. Because of the weather, there were planes circling the airport waiting to land and there was not enough airspace.
The thing that chapped the asses of our group was that at 5:15, an hour before the flight was supposed to take off, no announcement or even an update was posted on the board by the gate. Now scrambling because of hopes to still make it to the connection flight leaving Newark at 10pm to Scotland, everyone started running. After talking to numerous airport employees, we were no better for the wear and tempers were beginning to flair. We left the terminal and headed back to the ticket counter out by the street. We were told there was no way to get to Newark to catch the connecting flight. Then and there we took it into our own hands to do some damage control.
Pulled out our own computers and searched travel sites while the Continental lady had her finger up her ass.
We exhausted all options. We looked at options to get connecting flights, short flights around Newark where we could drive to the airport, take a rail to the airport, all the while coming to grips with the fact that we would most likely miss our first tee time at Royal Dornoch. Jake summed it up, “This f—ing blows.” After around two hours of searching, we figured out a way to get from Columbus to Newark at 6 am. The only dilemma now was how to get to Columbus and when. We decided on an economy van rental. It wasn’t one of those nice vans, like a party bus or something. It was like a school transportation vehicle.
We now were booked for a 6 am flight from Columbus to Newark with our connection flight a lovely 11 hours after landing at 7:55 that would arrive in Edinburgh at 8 am… hopefully.
Luckily (debatable) for us, we were able to cross paths with my mom and sister at the baggage claim. After a nice 5 minute conversation that reminded us of why we were happy about missing the reunion in the first place, we loaded up our vans and were on our way.
In our van Joe, Jake, Nick and I were driven from CVG to the Columbus Airport’s Hampton Inn by a nice, hippie lady of about 30. As usual, she was judged before any conversation was made. Wearing a sun dress with rings on all her fingers, I immediately nailed her as a hippie, single mother who played guitar and smoked a lot of weed.
Naturally, she was a talker, which I guess is forgivable since her job entails driving complete strangers all over Ohio. Jake decided to take the reigns as group spokesman in our car, turning on the charm for the nice filly. Jake and her hit it off. We even learned she attended the same grade school as I did, which is odd, but not unlikely in the least, especially in Cincinati. And two hours later, around 10pm we were in Columbus. Jake has kept a decent banter going agreeing to meet up with the nice lady at our alma mater’s parish festival at the Bars and Bells booth. Joe, Nick and I sat back and let him get his. We immediately hit up McDonald’s who has a total of 2 workers in the place. A lady taking orders both at the register and at the drive-thru and a guy in the back making it all. Sucks for them.
After a healthy dinner at 10:30, we walk back to the hotel for a nice nap. We’re getting up at 3 am to catch our shuttle to the airport for our 6 am flight. After a enjoyable Conan show with a look into the future and guests Snoop Dogg and Turtle from Entourage, I went to bed for what ended up being a 2 hour nap, hoping the traveling would go better tomorrow.
Cheers.
THE 44 HOUR DAY
June 27, 2009 –>
After a very unsatisfying nap of about 2 hours, I woke up to take a shower at 3 am. Everything went pretty smoothly with everyone showering and making it down to the hotel lobby in time for the 3:50 am airport shuttle. We arrived at the airport, checked in again, went through security and waited. Our 6:10 am flight from Columbus to Newark ended up being about a half hour late, but it was nice to get in the air. If only this guy was our flight attendant…
The rest of the day at the Newark airport was one of the most uneventful and mind numbing experiences of my life. We found an area with an outlet so we could charge up our laptops and parked it there from 9 am until 8 pm because, as we have come to expect, our flight was delayed about a half hour. I’ll be back later today to explain the flight, assuming we get on it. Pray that David Holmes is our flight attendant.
Cheers.
ROYAL DORNOCH – CHAMPIONSHIP COURSE
June 28, 2009 –>
Yesterday was one of the longest periods of time I have ever gone without sleep. We woke up at 3 am on Saturday morning to catch our flight out of Columbus. Up until last night (Sunday) at 11 pm local time, which is 6 pm back in the States we did not sleep in a bed. Roughly 39 hours of constant consciousness, but take into account the time change, and it’s like 44 hours. That may not be completely correct, but big numbers make it seem more emphatic.
We caught our flight from Newark International to Edinburgh with only a small delay, leaving 45 minutes later than usual. The flight was six hours and 45 minutes long, straight through the night. Luckily, I got stuck in between my brother and a furry Scotsman making it next to impossible to sleep. Good news was each seat had its own television in the headset, but the selection left something to be desired. We had on-demand TV shows, movies, music and games, but looking it up online prior to the flight got my expectations way up. Completely underwhelmed, thinking I could watch episodes of Entourage and Californication, I was stuck with shows like CSI: Miami with Horatio Cane pooping all over any respectable human being’s expectations of a murder investigator and Steven Baldwin’s biography, which is quite possibly the most uninteresting thing I ever witnessed. The saving grace for a nerd like me was all five Harry Potter movies, so I sat back, ate some bad plane food and watched some magic happen.
We got to Edinburgh around 8:45 am local time, went through customs and got our bags. We were met by our driver for the week, Dean, a friendly Scotsman with a cool accent who loves golf and shares our sense of humor. Dean led us to our home for the next week. We are being toted around Scotland in an awesome Mercedes party bus thing. This picture was taken from the two front-most seats looking back at the other six passengers.
From Edinburgh’s airport, we took a 4-hour ride up the east coast of Scotland to a nice B&B up in Dornoch called the Royal Marine. The place is something you read about in Sherlock Holmes with only 22 rooms in the joint. It was quaint, well-serviced and a nice place to pass out as soon as we got back from the round. With a nice bar, gave me the first taste of some pretty impressive Scottish beer.
We got to Royal Dornoch for our 5 pm tee time (it didn’t get dark until midnight) and stepped off the bus into a 30 mph wind right in the face. After a mid-afternoon snack/dinner we began our round on the Championship Course.
Real links golf is so much different than golf in the States that it is hard to imagine how it would affect your game until you’re actually facing the shots. Dean told us Tom Watson said “the hardest shot in golf is the second shot on the second hole at Royal Dornoch,” (the second hole is par three. I took a 10 on that hole. Tom Watson was right.)
Needless to say, it takes a little getting used to until scoring well is possible in Scottish golf. But, it was honestly one of the most incredible experiences I have taken part in even though I played like a hack.
One of the nice perks of the trip is the after-round ride back to the hotel. We get to sit in the bus, talk about the round and enjoy a few pints. Priceless.
We ended up having a nice dinner that was laid out for us by the restaurant, unusually generous per the EU’s rules and restrictions on working. The chef’s left around 9 or 9:30 and we got back at 10:30 to a full spread. Good stuff.
After dinner, Nick, Joe, Jake and I played a game of some of the worst pool you’ll ever not want to see. After that, I swear I passed out before I hit the pillow. More tomorrow.
Cheers.
CRUDEN BAY – CHAMPIONSHIP COURSE
June 29, 2009 –>
The day started wrong. Like an idiot, I am more concerned with time back home for some inexplicable reason and I refuse to change the time zone on my cell phone to one that coincides with the place I am currently in. Anyway, I set my alarm, again, like an idiot, for 7:30 am (EST), which is 12:30 pm here. Long story short, we get a call from my uncle at 8:07 wondering where we are for breakfast. I tell him we’re up even though the phone rang a good seven times before we answered and we rushed around and got out of there around 8:45 for the 4 hour ride to Cruden Bay, south of Dornoch, near Aberdeen. We came close to Loch Ness, one of the biggest pieces of bullshit ever to be believed, in my opinion. We can put a dude on the moon but can’t completely put to rest the idea that there’s some prehistoric water monster in a lake? Which brings me to another point, with our technology, why can’t we make Big Red or Barq’s Cream Soda alcoholic? Whatever. We got to the course.
Cruden Bay is absolutely breathtaking. I am one who rarely gets overly excited or sentimental, but this course is amazing. Slain’s Castle, which can be viewed from the 9th and 10th holes was the inspiration for the castle in Bram Stoker’s Dracula (a book I started to read in high school, but decided to begin my underachieving by finishing it via SparkNotes).
So, we get some lunch in the clubhouse, which throughout Scotland, you’re not allowed to wear hats into for whatever reason, and began our rounds. The clear highlight of my round came on the 14th hole. The 14th is nice par 4 along the ocean, but it never comes into play – unless you’re me. Understand this: I hit a draw to put it nicely, sometimes a wicked hook (for those who don’t understand the jargon, it means I hit the ball with a right-to-left ball flight). The North Sea is on the right. Our caddy tells us that we just need to hit a nice ball over a hill and “the guy who plays the draw, this sets up perfectly for you,” Naturally, I hit a push-fade, wayyy right. I’m on the beach. It’s dead. But, how many people play golf out of the North Sea. So I make the trek down to the beach, find the ball literally in the water, time it so I won’t get hit by waves coming in and make a bogey. Great pictures though so I can deal with the bogey.
As the first group, we finished a good 45 minutes before the other group. We went into the clubhouse and had a couple pints and got to talk to Dean more than we were used to, which ended up to be a good thing. He had some great stories about tours he had given over there. He told us about how The Donald has been coming because he is trying to develop an “Open Course” but the locals don’t want anything to do with him. “Who the fuck is this guy. What an asshole.” He also told us how he worked the Open at St. Andrews in 2000 and shared a moment with Tiger coming up 18. Cool dude.
Overall, I decided to make Cruden Bay my favorite golf course in the world. It used to be Old South in Hilton Head, but no chance that place holds a candle to anything in Scotland. Strong choice, if I do say so myself.
After they finished, we took the usual ride back accompanied by some pints to The Marcliffe at Pitfodels, A nice hotel that I personally feel out of place in, but if you’re going to do Scotland, do it right. I’ll have some pictures of the place tomorrow, but it’s phenomenal. Great dinner with some great conversation. I meant to do this yesterday, but my cousin Joe, a fellow journalism major who graduated from Scripps as well, is writing a blog for family and friends back home, but mostly for himself as a diary of the trip. He’s good and gives a little more insight with personalities of the people . Good stuff there. Check it out…jrudemiller.wordpress.com
It’s coming around 2am here and I’m beat. More tomorrow.
Cheers.
ROYAL ABERDEEN – CHAMPIONSHIP COURSE
June 30, 2009 –>
Screw. That. Place. Royal Aberdeen kicked my ass, as well as the asses of the other members of our group.
Fairways were walked off at 14-paces wide.
For the most part, our group subscribes to the logic of “long and wrong” as opposed to “short and straight.” Aberdeen definitely required the tee ball to be straight, with trouble off the fairways only a few yards, resulting in many lost balls and not as much fun.
We played in what the locals call a “summer breeze,” but to us Yanks we were struggling to move the ball forward in the air. No one broke 90 except for Steve, who went low, medalling with a 79. As most of the group can tell you, that’s some pretty good shooting.
I played like a jack ass along with the majority of other players, so this course gets next to no love. (In all seriousness, it was a nice course and very challenging, just did not set up well for me and I will continue to say that it kicked my ass.)
A couple pints of Tennent’s after the round made Aberdeen easier to swallow.
After the round we went back to our hotel at the Marcliffe at Pitfodels. A full fledged 5-Star hotel. It was amazing; food, service and rooms were all outstanding.
We had a great time there, especially the night following our round at Aberdeen. We got some dinner at a nice diner in town and had our first taste of haggis. For those of you who don’t know what it is, haggis is a traditional Scottish dish made up of sheep’s innards, mixed with suet, oatmeal and seasoning and is cooked in the sheep’s stomach. Everyone was skeptical, but we had to try it. We got an appetizer called Haggis bites. To our pleasant surprise, the haggis was really good. Some compared the taste to goetta back home. It soon became a mainstay of our dinner meals (along with pints of Tennent’s).
Following the dinner, we decided we would walk around the town for a bit and maybe do some shopping before Dean came back to get us. Our shopping spree consisted of the 8 of us walked 20 yards and two doors down the road to a liquor store. We popped in, bought a thing of Scotch and some cigars and uncannily, Dean found us there.
We returned to the hotel for a bit of a drinking session in the Marcliffe courtyard. One of the best times of the trip, we sat there drank some pints, a couple of glasses of Scotch and smoked some cigars while recounting entertaining stories about Nick’s “friend” Ashley, Jake’s fingers and even some about myself. Overall good night. More tomorrow.
Cheers.
ST. ANDREWS – THE NEW COURSE
July 1, 2009 –>
Waking up 7am was not easy after what we put our bodies, more specifically, our livers through the night before, but we soldier on. We checked out of the beautiful Marcliffe to make the trek to the Holy Land of Golf: St. Andrew’s. Albeit a bit groggy, everyone was in good spirits as we headed to the Home of Golf. We arrived a bit early and were able to leave our bags in reception at the MacDonald Rusacks Hotel, go golfing and come back to check in officially later in the day. More on that later on.
St. Andrews is the coolest town I have ever been to. Driving through the town there seems to be a common theme among the local businesses: restaurant, golf shop, pub… Right up my alley.
We arrived early and Dean was able to move some stuff around and get our tee time moved from 2:30pm to 11am. We started out on the New Course in a young vs. old format. The four young guys went out in the second group and the four elder gentlemen first.
The New Course isn’t really new. It’s 110 years old, but it just doesn’t have the same luster as the Old Course, which we were able to see from the first tee. Basically the whole city revolves around the courses. It’s really cool. I feel like a giddy little school girl just talking about it. Anyway, back to the golf.
The New Course is a relatively straight-forward course with a “what you see is what you get” arrangement. The title of this blog came into play on this day because there were more than one occurrence when we were playing from the wrong fairways. The old guys came out on top, with a smattering of scoring in the 80s with Steve going low again with a 78.
But the day was about what came after the course. Dean, a resident of St. Andrews had been telling us about hot spots to hit while in St. Andrews so we were going to settle in and enjoy the town.
If you’re not familiar with the Old Course of the Open Championship, first of all you’re crazy and second of all, you should be. Anyway, we got back to our hotel and found our rooms ready for us to inhabit them for the next three nights. The rooms were split up into pairs each night (Steve & Nick; Tom & Jim, Joe & Mark and Jake & myself) and Jake and I were worried that we would get a bad view of the town or something, not over looking the golf course. Here’s a picture of our hotel.
In case you don’t know, the hotel sits on the 18th fairway of St. Andrews and overlooks the 1st tee and 18th fairway and green.
As you can see, this place is unreal. And as for Jake being worried about us not having a good room: he was wrong. You can see the two protruding spires coming out of the hotel, and on the third floor of each is a balcony. There are only 2 in the entire place and they sit on Links Rd. overlooking the course. We had one. Needless to say, some were jealous, others very jealous, but it was amazing. We got to watch people coming up 17 and 18 until 9pm because it never gets dark there. In a word: Breathtaking. I can’t even think of a word that does the view justice.
We went to a local restaurant/pub/hotel called The Dunvegan. We got some haggis and I had an amazing double stacked bacon cheeseburger. Great stuff. We even caught up with our driver Dean who was there having a pint.
Following dinner and a few pints, Dean left and we did soon after. Some of the old guys headed back, but Steve, Joe, Jake, Nick and I wanted to see a little more. After a little hesitation, we decided to walk a little up into town. Maybe two doors up as we were talking and trying to decide where to stop for some pints, Dean sticks his head out of the Pilmour Hotel and says, “Come in and have a beer, douche bags.” Quality. Anyway we did, where we met some nice folks including “Terminator Barbie” Dona, a self-proclaimed “big bitch” who liked to talk. A couple of pints later and we had to head out. After all we were teeing off on the Old Course tomorrow at 7 am. Doesn’t suck.
Cheers.
ST ANDREWS – THE OLD COURSE
July 2, 2009 –>
As the trip began to come to an end, it was destined to go out with one of the most memorable days of our lives – a day spent on the Old Course at St. Andrews.
Our tee time was 7 am and per Dean’s instructions, we needed to be on the tee by 6:40 to ensure we wouldn’t miss our tee time. Our wake up call came at 5am, which was midnight back in the States, so it was possible to still talk to people back home who had not gone to bed yet . Anyway, we headed down for breakfast around 5:30 and were treated to a continental breakfast looking out over the greens keepers prepping the course for the day.
It really was a surreal experience sitting in the hotel restaurant and looking over the “Home of Golf,” as Tiger calls it (if Tiger calls it the home of golf, that’s good enough for me). After rolling a few putts on the practice green, we were on the tee. The starter welcomed us and the first group went off. My group went off second and standing on the tee gave me goose-bumps. It was awesome. Playing a course like this is like playing with a great group of guys or playing while you’re drinking; regardless of how you’re playing, it really can’t bring you down because you need to pinch yourself to realize what you’re actually doing.
We did a match-play format between the older guys and the kids using stroke play. The kids ended up winning, but what was truly fun to watch was my little brother making the Old Course his bitch. Nick played an extremely clean round of almost boring golf: drive down the middle, hit the green and unfortunately, a lot of 2-putts and some 3-putts. He shot 77. It was good to watch and fun to see him do well.
After we finished our round, which was more than enough for any golf buff, Dean again reminded us that the unthinkable had occurred: their were tee-times open in the afternoon. Dean had mentioned it to us at dinner the night before at the Dunvegan while showing us the lottery for the upcoming day. He explained that usually the lottery sheet that had each tee-time with each person’s name on it with their coinciding time is without exception completely full. On this day however, there was about a three-hour window from 1-4pm of open times. He couldn’t express enough how unusual this was and encouraged us to go around twice if we were up for it (not to mention, he had a game planned for himself that afternoon; an exemption from his duties to us that we were more than happy to oblige).
So following our 11am finish, Dean set us up for another tee-time at 3:30. We had a few hours to get some rest, some shopping and some food in. The foursome was set to be the kids as the adults with the exception of Mr. Mendel had had enough. The time in-between was mostly a blur of recounting the first round until we got to the British Golf Hall of Fame.
The Hall of Fame was a cool walk through the history of golf as a whole, beings its origins in Britain, but with a modern concentration on the Open Championship and British tournaments. They had some cool screens and exhibits about the first balls, clubs and players with no lack of information on Old Tom Morris. Any way you cut it however, I was moving right along, anxious to get back out to the Old Course for another go at it.
Finally, the time came and we were back on the tee. I was just as excited as I was the first time and I think everyone else was as well. I don’t think it would be an understatement to say that for Joe, Nick, Jake and I, it was the best golfing experience any of us have ever had.
We started off the round talking to the starter. He had recognized us from before and told us how lucky we were to get to play again. We were waiting around on the tee and talking and looking over at the Valley of Sin on the 18th green caused someone to ask the starter why the big swale in the front of the 18th green is called the Valley of Sin. Then, we learned a very fascinating story. He told us there were several theories about why it was called that, but he shared two of them with us. First, he told us that it was called that because before he was the starter, he was a greenskeeper. Now, greenskeepers at St. Andrews start around 5 in the morning and back when, Hamilton Hall, the large red building in the background of most shots of the 18th, was still used by St. Andrews University as a dormitory, it was not unfamiliar to head out for work a couple times in the summer and find two students in the valley short of the 18th green “sinning,” as he elegantly put it. The other theory, the one I would subscribe to, was told to him by the President of the R&A, so he said when the President of the R&A tells you something, you take it as law. As the story goes, way back when, people who were widely considered to be sinners were not allowed to be buried with the other upstanding citizens of the town in the cathedral graveyard. Because of that, they were taken and buried where the Valley of Sin now is. How it happened was that Old Tom Morris was moving the green around on the Old Course to give more room between the first tee and 18th green. When he was moving the green, he came upon several human remains of the sinners and from then on became known as “The Valley of Sin.”
So with a good story in our pockets, we set out for one memorable round of golf. Along with us four was a man who made our time worth while, our caddie Gordon McIntyre, a golf instructor and senior player in his own right. From the beginning, Gordon was a talker, something that did not really bother me, but he turned out to be the perfect match for a one-man caddie for a four-person group. Bounding around from person to person to give yardages and reads on every shot, he was amazing, always with a story or piece of advice for everyone. He made it a magnificent experience. He told me something as we walked off the second tee that has since stuck with me.
“It’s pretty cool to think you’re walking the same course as Nicklaus, Watson, Seve and those bastards, eh?”
When we arrived at the 14th hole, famous for Hell Bunker, Gordon was shocked when we told him we had not yet taken a picture with the infamous hazard. He then choreographed a very memorable photo to resemble the famous one that adorned the walls of Nick and my dad’s hotel room…
Again it was entertaining to see my little brother take it to the Old Course, this time shooting a 75 including a -1, 35 on the front 9.
I would be remiss if I didn’t toot my own horn for dominating the Road Hole, #17. The tee shot is completely blind as the hole goes from left-to-right. You need to hit your drive, depending on your ball flight, some where over the storage shed reading “The Old Course Hotel.” Some say the line is to hit the ball over the “o” in hotel, but not me. As I said in Cruden Bay, I play with a right-to-left ball flight, perfectly terrible for this hole. However, I made it my bitch twice. Kinda.
From this view, my line was literally down the side of the Old Course Hotel. Not the writing on the shed, literally the side of the hotel. If I would pull out any kind of push, I would have been in one of the rooms. As it was, I hit two of the best drives I have ever hit, both on 17. On the corner of the hotel, their is a viewing deck where visitors to the hotel watch the tee shots. The first time through, I striped a drive no more than 10 feet from the viewing deck causing the people watching to step back for fear of getting hit, only to applaud after they were out of the woods. The second time through, a younger group of 20-30 somethings came up to the viewing deck. Nick says as I addressed the ball, you could hear murmurs from the viewing deck of “He’s aiming right at us!” I didn’t really hear anything and made my swing. As I came out of my follow-through to see the ball, I was greeted by a roar of “Awwww yea” and applause. I felt pretty good about myself as we walked up and got some claps and comments from the lads up on the deck. Back on the first time through, I only had a wedge in, pulled it into the Road Bunker, just to get part of the experience, my caddie, Foggy, told me. The second time I was hell-bent on making better than the 7 I had the first time around. With a healthy following this time made up of the viewing deck, five or ten people on an evening stroll and the old guys from our group, I stuck a 9-iron to 12 feet. I didn’t convert the birdie try, but it cemented the Road Hole as my favorite hole in all of golf.
Unfortunately, our round had to come to an end, but not before I rolled in a 7-footer back down toward the Valley of Sin to win the match for Joe and I. After the round we got a picture with Gordon in front of the clock on the R&A so we could “see what time it was.”
And thus ended the best day of my life, hands down. Magical and one I will never forget.
Cheers.
CARNOUSTIE – THE CHAMPIONSHIP COURSE
July 3, 2009 –>
Unfortunately for me, Carnoustie ended up being an Old Course hangover. Coming off the best day of my life, I think it would be fair to say I needed a wake up call to understand I was going from one Open venue to another. The wake up call was late and Carnoustie took it to me.
After a rough first few holes, I began to understand where I was on #6, Hogan’s Alley.
Again, surreal to understand the history that had taken place where I was. But as it happens, sometimes the Golf Gods did not indulge me with memorable golf, just a memorable place to play, which was enough for me. My caddie on this day was doing his best to keep my spirits up and for that, I am forever grateful because he made it much more enjoyable than I was making it. At one point he asked me, “Are you deliberately trying to disobey my instructions?” It seemed like it by the looks of things but I really wasn’t it was just one of those days.
At #16, a hole, my caddie told me, Tom Watson had never parred, I had a 7-footer for a par. Naturally, I burned the edge, to which my caddie said, “You and Tommy Watson,” which recent history affirms, ain’t a bad place to be. However I found myself back on 16 with my drive on 18; I was just off the left side of 16′s green, shooting into 18.
“In my 23 years, I have never been over here,” my caddie told me. So I had that going for me, which is nice.
For the third time in two days, I got to see someone take it to the hardest courses in the world with Nick firing a 76. Pretty impressive end of the trip for him and a tip of the Tennet’s to his quality play.
And with that round, ended our golfing expedition in Scotland. The most memorable, exciting and best week of my life. I will hold memories from that week with me forever. Great golf, great people and a great trip.
Thank you for anyone who read this series. I more did this more for myself as a sort-of journal to recall these times for years to come. Again, thank you and if anyone would like to leave any comments or has any questions concerning the trip, courses or whatever, feel free to e-mail me.
Cheers and good night.
