Golspie
The Name Game and my Introduction to Scottish Golf
Golspie
If you have spent enough time in the American Deep South there are a couple of things that you will have experienced that help frame this story. The first is that you will have been startled a time or two by whitetail deer eating grass seemingly inches from interstate traffic. These creatures maintain an eery calm seeming to barely notice as you zoom past them at 70 mph just across the road’s narrow shoulder. Secondly, if you have lived in the South, you have been in a social setting where people ask you things about where you are from until they can name at least a few people that you both know. You may even be related by marriage, or your cousin roomed with their cousin that one semester she went to Mississippi State. Sometimes you play until you conclude that you were at the same wedding 2 summers ago. “I knew you looked familiar.” We sometimes call this The Name Game.
The golf course at Golspie appeared suddenly just beyond the shoulder of the road much like those highway deer. This was the first of several courses that startled us in this way. I guess people in Scotland get used to it, but it struck me how vulnerable and yet comfortable these golf courses seem to exist just across the shoulder of the road, no wall, no fence, no tall grass. As we were driving to a falconry exhibition at Dunrobin Castle, the Golspie golf course appeared so suddenly through the right-side window that it even startled my kids, “Whoa, there is a golf course right there!” I had heard of Golspie, so after doing some logistical calculations we decided that I could go play golf, while Marianna and the kids toured the castle. This was to be my first round of golf in Scotland (and my first time to play any golf at all in several weeks).
The ladies in the golf shop were thoroughly Scottish in their hospitality and their accents. I snooped around a bit and took pictures of the enviably simple and perfectly sufficient locker room. There was a foursome who had gone off the first tee just before me, so I gave them some time to get away. These locals would be my first examples of the beautifully fast but somehow unhurried pace-of-play that is a big part of why golf in this country is so special. The 4 men waited for me just beyond the first green and asked if I would like to play with them on number 2. I accepted, made a handy up-and-down for a par 3 and then began introducing myself. That is when I somehow realized that while I had been invited to join them on #2 , they were not really asking me to play along for 3 through 18. Though a bit caught off-guard, I was very relieved (knowing that my family was across town without a car). I hurried to peg my ball on the 3rd tee box assuming that they would be right on my heels, but when I eventually looked back from the 3rd green, I saw that they had not even teed off yet. They were chatting on the tee box. It dawned on me that even though they played quickly through each shot, they were not in a hurry at all. If they needed to finish a round in under 3 hours, they easily could have, and probably would, but heir pace of play was not necessarily about trying to finish quickly. They played fast without hurrying. I thought about that for the next several holes (and months).
Golspie is known for featuring holes which showcase all 3 main types of golf courses. Linksland, Heathland, and Parkland. I began my round on windblown seaside holes that would satisfy anyone’s fantasies of links golf, but after turning away from the North Sea I found myself on golf holes that seemed like they would be perfectly comfortable filling in as #6 and #7 at the Hattiesburg Country Club. Then there were the Heathland holes. Large swaths of the purple blooms of late summer heather threatened to devour American golf balls which bounce and roll and bounce again, ignorant of the springlike effects of the Scottish turf.
I learned that the course routing would return me to the carpark even before I reached the 18th hole. This was a relief because I needed to go fetch my family from Dunrobin Castle now that the falconry show was over. This carpark info came from an American named Dennis who I caught up with around the 11th hole. Dennis travels to Scotland from his home in California as often as he can. As golfers do, I asked where else he had played in the United States. This is the golf-nerd version of The Name Game, where you take turns mentioning courses that you have played, explaining the circumstances under which you played them. Eventually you land on a few that you have both played and BOOM, you have your common bond. If Dennis was willing to travel all the way to Scotland more than once a year, then surely he had been to some interesting places in the US.
I was wrong. Dennis said that he really only plays in Scotland and on one course in California. With the most reliable sources of golf-small-talk having now been unexpectedly taken from me, I turned my focus back to my golf and left it in his court. He noticed my Ben Hogan irons and we were able to volley for a few hundred yards about Mr. Hogan and modern equipment, if and when it makes a difference, and whether or not it is as important on Scottish courses.
Having found our way back to the topic of golf courses, Dennis said that the Scottish courses hold his attention in ways that American course cannot (his home course being the exception). Looking for another point of connection, I said, “I just played a course in California1 which felt kinda like Scotland.” (my expertise now established by having played a grand total of 13 holes on Scottish soil).
Dennis: “Oh Yeah? the course I play back home feels a lot like these here, too. That is why I love it, I play there almost every day when I am home.”
Me: “The course I played was Pacific Grove on the Monterrey Peninsula, it feels a little like being here.”
Dennis: “Yeah, that’s my course, that’s right where I live”
Me: “You’re kidding! ... Did you play 3 weeks ago on a Friday?”
Dennis: “hmmmm…I sure did” (quickly doing some calculations in his head to recall the days he did not play and then working backwards)
Me: “Well, Dennis, then (from my end) you and I have now played two rounds in a row on the same course on the same day”
As I recall, we each offered some version “what a small world” comments and parted ways at the car park. But after some reflection and google searches, I offer you this.
Dennis plays 1 course in the United States. I had played 1 course in Scotland. I played consecutive rounds of golf on courses almost exactly 5,000 miles apart, and Dennis a total stranger was there for both AND we crossed paths long enough to realize it. This is what I would call very high level Name Game stuff.
For the record, I retrieved my family, got our first (and for some of us our last) serving of Fish and Chips at Golspie’s famous chippy called The Trawler and then (noticing the course was basically empty) returned to the course to finish the last few holes with my family in tow. Now full of fish and chips and listening to my children’s concurrent and conflicting accounts of exactly how close the falcon came to their heads during the exhibition, I made my first and second double-bogies on Scottish soil and left with a forgettable score during an otherwise unforgettable introduction to golf in Scotland.
A few weeks prior to officially beginning our sabbatical we accepted an invitation to meet a group of couple-friends celebrating their 40th birthdays. They had rented a house on the Monterey Peninsula, so the guys decided to play the well-known municipal course Pacific Grove Golf Links