If you’re looking for a course to anchor a northern Scotland trip around, Royal Dornoch is the one. While we’ve touched on a few other great places in the area (

I checked into my modest accommodations at the Dornoch Hotel (far from luxurious, but perfect for someone ballin’ on a budget) on the night prior to my scheduled 36 hole day across the street, and quickly discovered that I was essentially out of luck for dinner for the evening. Though there was still plenty of sunlight at 10:00, the town of Dornoch is a bit sleepy and mostly void of dinner options at this hour. It’s small inconveniences like that this that remind me of my location on the planet, and in a country of just 5 million people, I’m likely north of at least 90% of them. But what’s lacking in terms of infrastructure is more than made up for in Scottish charm.

Royal Dornoch is almost always ranked in (at minimum) the top three among golf courses in Scotland, and easily the highest ranked among courses that are not on the Open rota. The reality is that the town and the property itself are not capable of housing a crowd of that size. The course itself doesn’t try to pretend to be a championship test, as it tips out around 6,750 yards, but to me, this only adds to the uniqueness of the experience.

The club was founded in 1877, when Rutherford B. Hayes was the president of the United States. The U.S. was barely a hundred years old when this place opened up! It might get a bit repetitive to hear about the ancient dates of some of these clubs, but it will never cease to amaze me how long places like Dornoch have stood the test of time through wars, depressions, storms, erosion, and extreme advancements in technology. Before venturing across the pond to the British Isles, I had always imagined that these old courses would lack modern conditioning, and that that was simply part of the charm. I was surprised to find that this is rarely the case, and certainly not here. Royal Dornoch is as pure as pure gets.

Paired up with three American visitors, we’re off at 10:20 with overcast skies above. The first hole immediately puts your mind to work. At just 331 yards, and a modest 12 on the stroke index, it appears to be a breezy start. But the two bunkers on the left about 200 yards from the tee are situated perfectly. If you want to blow past them, feel free, but just know that the fairway narrows there and the deep shit is waiting for you. If you lay back with iron, you’re likely taking these two bunkers on, so you better be accurate with that one too.

While I’m not going to break down the strategic elements of each of the next 17 holes, the first one paints a perfect picture for how many decisions you’re going to have to commit to over the next four hours. It’s fantastic. And the more I pour over my yardage book some two months after playing it, the more I realize how many great holes Dornoch has that are worthy of discussion.

The second is a par three measuring 184 yards, and home to what Tom Watson calls “the hardest shot in golf.” No, it’s not the long iron off the tee into the prevailing wind. It’s the second shot. When you inevitably miss this green, you’ll see why. The surface is narrow, and sits perched well above the two bunkers that frame the front. If you’re wayward, it might take you a few back and forths across the width of the green before it finally finds the surface.

Going out towards the third hole, the course really begins to open up. After a short walk down a tight path through the gorse, you emerge onto the piece of the property that you see in all of the pictures. The 413 yard par-4 bends to the left, but of course there are four perfect little pot bunkers lining the right side of the fairway, waiting to collect anything that runs out too far. The wind helps you move the ball away from these traps, but the gorse comes in tight on the left waiting on any shot that cuts the corner too closely. The green is huge, and I kind of lost focus on the golf as I wandered around the surface imagining all of the possibilities.

The view of the third green from the fairway, with the 4th in the distance:

The fourth is another strong two shotter (like, a really strong hole, but I’m on pace for about 4,000 words so I’m sliding past it), followed by a 353 yard par 4 that really tickled my senses. It’s wide open and inviting off the tee. There’s doesn’t appear to be a reason to keep the driver holstered, so I let one rip way down the fairway. I arrive at my ball, and quickly realize they got me. Three small bunkers guard the front of the green, and the pin sits on the front. I’m way too close. This place is like a crossword puzzle, and just when you think you nailed one, you realize the word you just inked in pen doesn’t fit the answer you need for 27 down.

The sixth is another great little par-3 that seems to be clinging for dear life on the side of a hill. You then walk up a steep path to a near isolated part of the property for the 7th, a screaming 479 yard par-4 back into the teeth of the wind. From there, you get perhaps the best view of the day:

A blind tee shot on the 8th brings you back down the hill and out to the furthest point, and the walk back to the 9th tee brings you seaside for the first time.

The shadow cuts in the fairway are perfectly appealing to the lusting eye, and with the sound of the waves crashing on the beach behind you, before you’re nine holes in you already understand what everyone has been talking about. While the course is scenic, it doesn’t 

 the scenery. The golf course itself stands on its own from a design, conditioning, and fairness standpoint.

The fairways are wide in general, yet there are great benefits to playing from your approach from the proper angle. On more than one occasion, I was thankful that I was going to get a second go around later that afternoon because by the time I had reached my ball, I realized I was out of position due to the pin placement.

Holes 9-16 all run along the coastline, and after a quick stop at the charming halfway house, the back nine greets you with a gentle gem of a par three. Right to left shots are preferred on the difficult par-4 11th as well as the par-5 12th. One final par-3 at the 13th, then five straight two shotters to finish.

The course peaks at at the par-4 14th. Tom Doak calls it “one of the greatest holes in the game.” It’s 445 yards from the tips and ranks as the most difficult hole on the course. While the fairway doesn’t dogleg, a right to left shot is again preferred as the tee box sits a bit at angle left of the center cut line. There are no bunkers, but the right half of this green is protected by deep rough. Therefore, your long iron approach is perhaps better played left of the green rather than at the center, yet your instincts don’t allow you to get comfortable aiming so far away from the flag.

The 15th is another fun par-4, then the 16th takes you back up the hill towards the clubhouse. This climb is “skipped” on the front nine as you climb a hill between the 6th green and the 7th tee, but there’s no avoiding the climb on this side. It’s not the best hole out there, but two more nice par-4’s bring you back to the clubhouse for lunch.

16 tee (foreground), 15, and 14 in the distance:

I sit in the grill room with a beer, my scorecard, and my notes and just reflect on the masterpiece I just traversed. With 54 holes down in less than 24 hours, I’m still chomping at the bit to get back out there for another go at it. I make the classic mistake of visualizing a game plan for a links course and to respond to the strategic mistakes I made in the first round, only to discover that the wind had changed directions. I’m now playing a different golf course.

For some reason, afternoon/evening golf in Scotland seems to be a relatively unpopular thing. This is my favorite time of the day to play, and I zoom around solo for the first 11 or so holes before hitting a wall of singles. For some reason, no one was joining up for the walk in. Two members (Iain and Martin) stroll up behind me as I wait on the 16th tee. I’m not sure if it’s against custom to ask members to play with me, but I do, and they’re appreciative.

The banter between Iain and Martin was fascinating to watch. To this point, the only thing missing from my day was this local flavor, and though we only joined up for three holes, the Scottish welcome came pouring out. They argued about their match, laughed, and though they see it plenty, marveled at the ridiculous evening we were blessed with.

The wind picks up big time down the finishing stretch, and when I make a comment on it, Iain replies: “You don’t think this is strong do you?”

The members invited me inside for a beer, which quickly turned into four. We talked about the area, golf courses, life, and anything else that came up over the course of the hour and a half. For some reason, Scottish and English golf clubs can get a reputation as being stuffy, and while there are certainly elements of that in some places, I find that reputation to be mostly inaccurate. It’s actually the complete opposite here at Royal Dornoch, where I felt welcome as a guest by the club at the start of the day, and even more welcome as a guest by two members at the end of it. 

 is Scotland, and these 19th hole experiences are more memorable than any shot you play.

I got on the grounds at 9:30 AM. It’s now 9:30 PM and I’m leaving. I’m far from an expert on golf architecture, but I do know golf experiences. From a golf course perspective, it does not get any better than Royal Dornoch. And from a golf experience standpoint, Royal Dornoch shoots straight up near the top of places that I would want to play every single day.

I can’t picture a better place to spend a day of golf.

Royal Dornoch

I try the best I can in these posts to limit the personal stories, and try to maintain the theme of providing information that helps you plan your golf trip, rather than bore you with inane details from what is ultimately an insignificant round of golf. But for this writeup on Brora, that’s not going to be possible, because what unfolded on the evening of June 20, 2017 was one of the wildest and most unlikely four hour stretches I’ll ever experience on a golf course. But let’s start with the golf course.

I met up with two members of the club, Campbell Ross and Calum Stewart, around 6 PM on the longest day of the year. The night was 

. Coming off two hours of sleep, four+ hours of driving, and 18 holes at Castle Stuart previously that afternoon, I was feeding off the energy of the sunshine and the rave reviews this course has received.

Brora is about as far north as people are reasonably willing to venture to play golf in Scotland. It’s not a championship level golf course, but that’s hardly a pre-req to being an enjoyable walk. I had heard stories of how sheep and cows roam freely through the grounds, and I just had to see it for myself. Sure enough, tiny electric fences surround the green complexes to keep the sheep off of them. But this is only one small element of the charm that is Brora Golf Club.


The club opened in 1891 (originally nine holes) and was lengthened to 18 holes around 1900. Five time Open champion James Braid redesigned the course in 1924, and the course remains mostly unchanged from that era.

The sea breeze was cool, and noticeably cooler than the 70 degrees I had at Castle Stuart just two hours earlier. It’s old school in the sense that, the tees seem to be in their original places (the course tips out at 6,100 yards), and they’ve not ruined the course with desperate attempts to keep up with the rapid advancements of technology. While it may seem like the game has overgrown the course’s shortish par fours, if you’re expectations are managed coming into it, you’ll enjoy this aspect. And for 35 pounds for a twilight round (after 5 PM), you can’t beat the price point.

The sheep are hilarious. They are everywhere, and it honestly never stopped being funny when one would let out a gigantic “BAHHHHHHHH” seemingly right as we were about to hit a shot. The locals kind of laugh at the Americans overly keen interest in the sheep, but I’ve played golf in a lot of places and I’ve never seen anything like this. And it’s etched in my memory of this place.

I was expecting the turf and terrain to be a lot more raw. The conditioning was beautiful, and while the greens were on the slower side, they were lush and well maintained. Tom Watson paid a visit here in July:

Brora is not going to be at the top of a lot of people’s bucket lists. Top 100 seekers aren’t likely to venture this far north, but to me, this only adds to the mystique of this place. Gone are the busloads of American tourists at the Open rota courses, and the only guests that make it up here are the hardcore ones. To me, it’s absolutely vital to fill your golf trips with journeys to places like Brora. The opportunity to play with locals no doubt enhanced the experience (more on that in a bit here), and the pride the members take in their club always fascinates me, and you inevitably end up getting a history lesson along with a pleasant walk.

I’m separating this section out because it has very little to do with Brora the course, and more to do with my experience, which remains one of the weirdest and wildest golf experiences I’ve ever had.

Shortly before arriving on the grounds, I hear word through the grapevine that Bones and Phil were divorcing, and that the announcement was going to come later that evening. It was a shock, and it honestly rattled me a bit. There was nothing going on that would lead me to think this was a possibility, and my mind was racing trying to figure out what was going on. I wasn’t allowed to share the news publicly, which wasn’t that big of a deal at the time.

Aside from taking pictures, I try to keep my phone in my pocket as much as physically possible during a special round of golf. I manage to make it about four holes in before checking, only to see that I had a missed call from Bones. I was beyond confused. I call him back and act like I don’t know anything. He sounds totally normal, and just asks for my email address.

I spent the next hour refreshing my email every chance that I got, knowing what was coming. I was close to just giving up on it ever coming. Finally the statement comes in, and I get it out to twitter as fast as I can, and just watched golf twitter melt down. I remember us all holing out on one hole, and remaining on the green each on our phones just watching the overwhelming reaction to the news.

At this point, I’m apologetic to Calum and Campbell for being on the phone the entire round, now that I’ve decided to call this my job, this is the reality, and they’re more than understanding.

Trying to calm down, we’re all still talking about the Bones thing. I’m not doing a good job of soaking up this experience and I know it. Nearing the end of a 36 hole day on no sleep, and my mind racing on the divorce, and my focus just isn’t really there.

“You can probably have a go at it,” says Calum as we approach the tee on the 334 yard par-4. Legitimately two holes earlier, I told the group “You guys have no clue how many strokes this twitter account has cost me” as I reached for the driver on a somewhat drivable par-4. I’m bound by duty to reach for the driver whenever reaching the green is even a remote possibility.

Fighting the hooks all day, I let loose and one and finally flushed one. It had just enough draw spin to hold up against the down and off the left wind. The ball disappears into the distance, as the green is a bit blind.

“That’s probably just short,” Calum says.

In my head, I’m thinking, “man, that’s not short of ANYTHING.” This ball was crushed.

I don’t think much of the fact that I couldn’t see my ball as we walked up. We looked short of the green, nothing there. Looked slightly right of it, nothing there. Nothing in the bunker. It’s clearly not on the grass, so we start perusing around the heather that frames the green. Could it have gone long!? A casual search begins over the green. I’m a million over par and hardly playing super official golf at this point, so I’m close to just dropping one.

Maybe 30 seconds more of searching. I’m resigned. Calum walks by the hole just to have a peek. A semi-shocked look comes over his face as he utters:

Ahhhh the old “hole in one trick” on the foreign guest. Not gonna fall for that one. I laughed it off and tried to draw the joke out of him before the demoralizing self gander into the cup, only to find out I was pranked. This show went on for a good 20-30 seconds. He was steadfast. His hands were on his head. “I’m not joking you, the ball is in the hole.”

“If I come over there, and my ball is not in the hole, I’m going to actually punch you in the face. You do realize that right?”

This is beginning to become a reality for me, but his excitement level still does not match what I would expect for apar four ace. I don’t even remember actually walking up to the hole. But I remember looking in the cup, and the legitimate state of shock that I entered. There it was, aCallaway Chrome Soft-X. And fittingly, a number one. My jaw dropped.

I’m yelling at him like he’s Jack Nicholson and I’m Tom Cruise, just waiting for him to fess up to the truth.

We do an awkward white guy high five, and suddenly all of Tiger and Stevie’s failed celebrations make sense. I’m not running around and screaming mostly because I’m actually in a state of shock. I’ve never had an ace before! And it comes on a par 4!? On a perfect night in northern Scotland!?

I made a few frantic phone calls to my Dad, my best friend Frank, and to Tron. I don’t have a single clue as to what happened the rest of that round, other than the fact that Calum shot like 66. I played so unbelievably bad that I didn’t even break 80 on a par 70 WITH AN ACE ON A PAR FOUR. I didn’t even have a birdie on the card.

By the time we had finished, word had gotten back to the clubhouse about the ace, and they were awesome enough to present me with a framed photo from the course. I went inside, nervous about the bar tab, only to find that the clubhouse was nearly empty. I offered a round to everyone there, but it was so sparse that my final tab only ended up being 15 pounds.

I drove the thirty minutes back to my hotel in Dornoch, music on full blast to try to stay awake. It’s 10:30 and it’s still light out, and the greatest golf trip ever could not be off to a better start.

Brora Golf Club

Way overdue, as always. Let’s get caught up on some correspondence. Apologies in advance, this is a long one. Thanks for all of the questions.

Odds Rickie's career ends up like Kuch: Top-10 machine but no majors?



— JJ Gottschalk (@jjgottschalk) 

I maintain that Rickie’s gonna get one. He’s around the top enough to conclude that he’s bound to run into one at some point. Rick has been around for awhile and had quite a few chances, so it may 

 like he’s running out of chances to win one way more than the actual reality. He can go 0 for his next 11 majors and still be younger at the 12th than DJ was when he won his first major. He can go 0 for his next 16 majors and still be younger at the 17th than Phil was when he won his first major. While I wouldn’t say he’s on the trajectory of either of those players in terms of career achievements, perspective on age in these things is always important.

One thing I can’t stand is when a player is winless in majors, it seems like their high finishes in majors get held over their head as a bad thing. Seven top-5 finishes in majors for Rickie before the age of 30 is a 

 thing. He’s proven over and over that he has the talent to contend in majors, and though many will disagree with this, the line between contending in majors and winning them is actually pretty thin. Patience, my friends.

How good is Alex Noren?? ????



— Steve worley (@FakeSteveWorley) 

He’s very good! That’s never been the issue. I’ll take the bait here.

I feel like I’m at the end of a crooked game of telephone listening to what my take has somehow “become” vs. what I actually said from the start. My whole point was that, to get into the top 10 in the world rankings, you should have had to do at least 

 on the world stage. Winning five times on the European Tour is absolutely remarkable, and should not be dismissed under any circumstance. The point was that the Official World Golf Rankings way overrate winning events, when it should be measured more as a performance in relation to your peers.

Often times, a 5th place finish on the PGA TOUR is more impressive than a win on the European Tour in the same week given the difference in the strength of field. Noren climbed to the top ten in the world without ever playing a weekend in a major (during the the OWGR measurement time). The beef isn’t and never was with Noren. He’s just the latest subject in a 

mathematically proven bias in the rankings

This is not to say that winning events shouldn’t matter. Noren’s wins were not against exceptionally weak fields, but here’s a quick example. He got 64 ranking points for winning the BMW PGA Championship, which had a field strength of 329. This week’s Dell Technologies Championship has a field strength of 728, and the winner will get 74 points, and the runner up will get around 45 points (by my count). The Dell Technologies has one of the strongest fields in golf, and you can beat a boat load of top 50 world players and get less points than beating less than a boat load of top 50 players at the BMW PGA. The system just gives you a lot of credit for winning.

Alex Noren is a fantastic player. That’s never been up for the debate. But he’s not scaring me if I see him on a European Ryder Cup team the way that the other top ranked European players do, and that’s the whole point. He’s a top 10 player in the world in ranking only.

Detail the specifics on the changes at headquarters. Was it an amicable split at KPMG? How many credentials will NLU get next year?



— Colton Davis (@Colton45) 

The split was very amicable. My contract in Amsterdam was up as of June 30, and I gave notice to my office in Chicago back in April that I would not be coming back. Despite my best attempts to separate church and state, a lot of my colleagues in Chicago caught wind of NLU and follow the site relatively closely. It was going to be next to impossible to do both jobs once I returned. They were supportive of the move, and not surprised at all.

In Holland, I managed to keep the site a secret for my entire three years there. It really didn’t matter to them what I did after my contract expired, but they were in complete shock when I told them I wasn’t going back to Chicago. They struggled to understand that I was running a golf website, and seemed to think that I was quitting to play golf professionally. They looked at me like I was an idiot, and while I very well might be, I was pretty proud that I was able to keep the “secret” for basically three years.

With the time available, I’m definitely planning to attend events that make sense logistically. I’ve already been to seven between the PGA and Euro Tour this year, and hopefully will be at several more throughout the fall. The rest of the gang will attend when their schedules allow for it, but the vacation days are dwindling quickly!

Does Phil make the Prez Cup team no matter what? Or do current form guys force Stricker's hand? related: I miss Ryder Cup years…



— Grant Miller (@grantdmiller1) 

I remember being legitimately surprised when it was rumored that he was in contention for a captain’s pick in 2015. He was nowhere near the top 10 in the standings, and had shown almost no signs of life over the course of the season. Then I remember watching him in Korea, and especially after watching his press conferences, and realizing that, 

 Phil is on this team. So it’s that line of thinking that makes me think he’s going to be on the team no matter what.

The thing we all (myself included) need to realize is that the points standings mean very little to the players and the brass in charge. Around the time that Ryder Cup selections were being made last year, I was talking to a player about a candidate for the team. I mentioned where this player sat in the standings, and said something about their strokes gained stats for the year. The response I got was something along the lines of “Fuck the stats man, we just need to get the players together that give us the best chance of winning.”

This kinda hit home with me about the differences in the reality between how we view things as fans, and how the guys actually in the arena see it. A couple shots here and there throughout the season doesn’t necessarily mean that player is the best fit for a team event. Phil is a different player in these team events, takes them very, very seriously, and has been a presence in these team rooms for two decades. He’ll be there.

Favorite course you have ever played and why



— Ben Nelson (@bennycnelson) 

I’ve gotten this one enough that my answer is pretty well rehearsed at this point. It’s the Old Course at St. Andrews. And I most definitely would not have said this prior to my return visit this past June.

There’s a quote from Alister MacKenzie’s 

(hat tip from reader Kyle Gans on nailing down the location of this quote) from Bobby Jones, where he said something along the lines of, that if you say you love the Old Course and you’ve played it less than ten times, you’re lying. While I’ve not played it ten times, I can certainly understand the spirit behind this quote because it took until my third time playing the famed links before I really “got it.” It was no doubt aided by the fact that I played it well, but I think I drove the rest of the group nuts by looking around on almost every single hole and just saying out loud, “this is the best.”

It’s challenging off the tee, yet it’s friendly. On most holes, you can bail as far left as you want and still find your ball, probably in an adjacent fairway. But you know that the further left you bail, the worse your angle is into the green. You’re going to be bringing in a series of humps and bumps that you may not have to negotiate from a more daring line off the tee.

The greens are fantastic. Pretty fast for a links course, but very smooth surfaces with subtle contours and highly unusual shapes. Most importantly, they marry the design of the course from tee to green perfectly.

We caught it in the perfect prevailing wind, and I felt like we got to see the course exactly as it was designed to be played. The first hole played dead into it, and 2-7 played into and off the left. Just the worst possible wind for a right hander. I was doing all I could just to keep the ball in play, as all of the trouble sits to the right. Having to try to hold up six irons into that wind to get to some of these pins was such a thrill that’s just hard to explain.

A brief downwind respite on holes 8 and 9, back out into it on 10 and 11, then you’re coasting home for the final seven. With the wind at our backs and off the right, the fear of the right OB miss was minimized, and we could swing freely. My caddie Brett was on point all day, walking me through shots and putting clubs in my hands I would have never even considered hitting. One instance, I remember being 156 out to the flag, but it was only 112 to cover the swale in the front. He said let’s hit a max 120 shot. I hit a little gap wedge right around in that area and watched it funnel back to the hole. This is the way golf was meant to be played.

Then once you add in the setting, the town that frames the course, the patio full of drinkers at the Jigger Inn along 17 fairway, the crowd gathered around the 18th green, the small towers in the town that you use for your lines coming in…. you can’t beat it.

I realize I spent more time answering this in a way that described the experience rather than the golf course, but it was all of those elements (the wind, the proper guidance, the setting) that added so much to the enjoyment of the actual golf course. I feel like I totally “get” the Old Course in a way that I did not in my first two times around it. It’s just the best.

In this era of so many great players/potential major winners, will we one day look back at Martin Kaymer's two majors as the oddest stat?



— Sarah Endacott (@sendacott) 

One thing that Big Randy once said in one of his many anti-Rickie takes has always stuck with me:

“Rickie’s got WORK to do to get to Martin Kaymer’s career.”

While I would certainly say that Kaymer’s career is odd, I’m not sure that I would say that his two majors is an odd stat. I think it’s easy to forget just how good Kaymer was pre-attempt to change his ball flight for Augusta. Putting aside the absurdity of that notion, Kaymer was on a torrid run leading up to the 2010 PGA Championship, his first major win. He already had five European Tour wins, plus top 10’s at the 2009 PGA, the 2010 US Open, and the 2010 Open Championship before breaking through at Whistling Straits. He followed that by winning three more times in the next five months, ascending to number one in the world. 

 he changed his swing. Age 26 and the number one player in the world, and he changed it all! I still can’t believe that this is a real thing. Yes he was aided by the lack of true identity of a top player in the weird 2010-2011 phase, but the dude was nails and a deserving number one.

The 2014 re-emergence at the Wells Fargo, followed by the win at The Players the next week at least gave us a glimpse into the fact that his game was still there. Kaymer winning the 2014 US Open wasn’t shocking, just the way that he did it really surprised people. He eviscerated the field and put the viewers to sleep in an eight shot romp.

Somehow he is kind of the forgotten man when it comes to major champions in this era, kind of in the way that we don’t rattle off Padraig Harrington’s name frequently off the top of our heads. And I’m not really sure why. The best comp for him is probably Louis Oosthuizen? Both have run away with major championships, and while Louis still only has the one title, he’s been painstakingly close to so many other majors that essentially it’s fair to lump them in the same category.

Kaymer deserves a spot in the Hall of Fame simply because without him, Bubba is a three time major winner and that’s just not a world I want to live in.

You are given a membership at one course/resort that you've played for each of: Ireland, Scotland, England, Sandhills. Which 4?



— Tucker Blankinship (@TuckerBlanc) 

Man, a tough one to answer because of the judgement that comes with it. One of my biggest takeaways from the summer is that, no matter where you are playing, someone always has a suggestion for a better place you should be playing.

Since realism has already been suspended for this question, I’m going to eliminate the cost element. I can’t afford many of the elite clubs of the US, but don’t want to eliminate a course from consideration because of cost.

The membership part makes the question very different from the question above, which is “what is your favorite golf course?” A strong golf course is obviously a prerequisite, but it also has to be a course that you would want to play every day. The Old Course, Pinehurst, Kingsbarns, etc. all get ruled out because you don’t want your everyday course to be flooded with tourists on a daily basis, and you get left scrambling for tee times. Five hour rounds are tolerated on a one-time walk on these courses, but every day? No thanks.

The makeup of the membership is also absolutely vital. There’s courses I’ve played where I think I would have a hard time fitting in with the members. I would want to have a group of young, solid players that enjoy competing, yet don’t take things 

After careful consideration, I’m choosing Royal Dornoch. They do get a lot of visitor traffic there, but it’s a championship level golf course that has not been super lengthened or toughened like many of the Open rota courses. The contours of the greens allow for so many different pin positions that I would imagine it feels like you’re playing a different golf course everyday. Yet the course tee to green is one of the most interesting and fun challenges I’ve seen. The setting is second to none. The vibe was phenomenal. The members I played with were a blast. You can easily play until 10:30 in the summer up there, it’s got a great 19th hole, and a storied history. Just take me back now.

? Ex: Arnie’s pants hitching, steel spikes, early Tiger tucking under the shoulder of his baggy shirts…



— J.P. G.T. (@J_P_G_T) 

I swear I would buy extra long sleeves in the early 2000’s just to be able to pull them up like Big Cat used to.

Apparel related #TourSauce moves, ranked:

The hat tip – The classic. Standard placement of the index finger and thumb tightly around the bill. No tug, just a tap. Needs to be paired with a sheepish movement of the lips, yet no need to fully mouth the “thank you.”

The shoe tap after a bunker shot – No one takes this more seriously than Phil. The toes of his wedges have wear marks from how hard he bangs the club off the bottom of his spikes, spraying sand all over the grass just outside the trap.

The Watch Grab – High profile interview about to happen on tv? Seemingly at always the last second, a player’s manager reminds them to put their watch on for the interview, and the camera always catches them in the process of putting it on. Gotta keep those sponsors happy.

Sunglasses anywhere but the eyes – It’s required keep them close by in case the sun comes out of nowhere from behind a cloud. Common resting places are on top of the hat, or around the back (to make sure you don’t cover the sponsor logo).

Is there anyone not from the 2016 RC team that you're looking forward to watching at Liberty National?



— Eric Buenning (@ericbuenning) 

Bad answer here, but all of them. I don’t care a lot about the actual result of the Presidents Cup like I do the Ryder Cup, but I’m still super intrigued with the team aspect. The reason I pushed so hard for Koepka in 2015 (aside from the fact that it was abundantly clear that he was already one of the best players in the world) was that I’ve always felt that the Presidents Cup should be used as a breeding ground for the Ryder Cup. It won’t ever be for a few obvious reasons. One being that the two events are run by two different organizations that aren’t necessarily working under a common vision (PGA TOUR runs the Presidents Cup, the PGA of America runs the Ryder Cup). Another being that individual captains are trying their best to win the actual event, rather than groom next year’s Ryder Cup team that they’re not in charge of captaining.

So you’re always going to see some safe Captain’s picks at the Presidents Cup, with Phil of course being one of them. And for some reason at the Ryder Cup, experience in the actual cup is a huge prerequisite to being selected by the captain.

I hope the team falls out the way it currently stands, because I’m pumped to see Berger in team play, and some older (relatively speaking) guys like Kisner and Hoffman get their first shot. Obviously will be pumped to see JT get in the mix, mostly because he’s going to likely be on these teams for the next decade plus. This also gives Furyk four new guys with the “necessary” aforementioned team experience that may go into consideration when captain’s picks are made next fall for France.

Amid the chaos and scandal, let's get down to the truth. Is Schneiderjans a legitimate threat to Robert Rock's legacy?



— Pete Zarole (@TyrelMoliliswan) 

Absolutely. In fact, I would even venture to say that the young heartthrob’s wavy locks have already captured our hearts, and are on the verge of capturing our spirits. The traj-y 341 yard driving iron on Protracer at Sedgefield was what helped seal the deal, though we’ve been on Ollie for quite some time (

for Ollie’s NLU Podcast episode, click here

Funny enough, I saw Robert Rock at the PGA Championship… as a coach!? I was aware of the 

, but was surprised to see him on the grounds working with Thomas Bjorn with a coaching credential. Hardly a noteworthy story, but then I saw him back on TV at the Made in Denmark last week (with a T10 finish to boot). Maybe this happens more than I realize, but I found it odd that a player in the middle of their playing career was coaching another player on an official basis.

Best course in Columbus: Heritage, Muirfield, Scioto, Brookside, or Raymond?



— APT (@Testaalp) 

What have you learned about your golf game as professional blogger / amateur in last few months?



— Tim Ragones (@timragones) 

I’ve learned a lot, and I’ve also learned very little. Bear with me.

I moved from Chicago to Amsterdam in October 2014 partly because weekend golf was too much of a center point in my life, and I just felt like I should be doing something more. Aside from a few short trips to Ireland and Scotland, my clubs collected dust in Holland. I maxed out between 10-15 rounds a year, with 6-8 of them coming within a 3-4 day span in the British Isles. While I missed golf, putting the clubs away for an extended time allowed me the opportunity to do a lot of other things. So I traveled around Europe, Asia, or Africa at every possible opportunity, and had the time of my life doing it. I’d drop in on PGA TOUR coverage when time allowed for it, and weirdly enough, NLU started really taking off during this time. I spent a lot of time on it in the evenings after my real job was done for the day, but my own personal passion for playing was thrown way in the back seat.

This year, that all changed. The more I began to learn about golf courses in the UK, the further down a wormhole I went. Before moving back to the states, I was planning a very extended three month trip around Asia before settling back into my job in Chicago. When I decided to quit that, I changed these plans to include spending some time in the UK covering three events, and jamming in as much golf as possible (quite literally) around the European Tour spots, and wherever my rental car could reach. Of course, there is a work side of this (I’ve got a backlog of course writeups on my to-do list that hangs over my head), but as you might expect, it was the greatest summer ever.

Traveling to some of the most remote corners of the UK to play reinvigorated my passion for actually playing the game to a point where it is now stronger than it has ever been. On May 15th, my handicap rested at 2.4, and now with all of the golf I’ve played in the months since then, it’s dropped down to…. wait…. what? It’s 2.8. My handicap went up!?

I’ve never hit the ball better, and the equipment change to the Epic Subzero and the Apex Pro irons has without a doubt contributed to that. (You can roll your eyes at that plug if you want, but that’s just the God’s honest truth). I’ve never putted it better. My chipping has been brutal, but I honestly can’t figure out why more scores haven’t been better. And I think that finally brings me around to answering Tim’s question.

I’ve learned that I’m pretty much maxed out at around a 2 handicap. And I’m still coming to terms with this realization. Every time I feel like I’m about to make that leap and start shooting in the 60’s, I throw up an 81 and just come crashing down to Earth. I think it means that, without hours and hours of practice, or without tearing my swing down and starting over, that I’m stuck in this purgatory of being a good player, but not a scratch player.

The key here is acceptance. My game is good enough to have bursts where it feels like anything is possible, but not good enough that I can allow myself to get upset on the golf course. I used to be a brat, and if I wasn’t playing well, I did not have fun. Once I freed myself of that burden, I began to enjoy the game infinitely more. And that’s perhaps the best lesson I’ve ever learned in golf.

Thanks for making it all the way through, and for the great questions. I may save the rest for a mailbag pod.

August Mailbag

This is the last installment of our Northwest England trip with 

 of the podcast that we recorded on the last night of the trip prior to flying back to our respective locales. The trip included rounds at six courses over four days, starting with 

Lytham was the last stop on our whirlwind tour of Northwest England. Sitting here finishing this writeup months after the fact, my recollection of our time at Lytham is distinctly different from the rest of the trip. The placid conditions and brilliant sunshine we encountered for the previous three-plus days gradually morphed into a hazier, windswept day that felt more like October than March. Add the Sunday Scaries, an eerily empty course, and 206 bunkers to the mix and it was like the trip had ended and we were facing a layover in the tribal regions of Tora Bora before connecting homeward to our respective destinations. We rolled in from a morning round at Wallasey and drove the hour or so north, past Southport, to the conurbation of Lytham St Annes (and we all learned a new word!)

My expectations for Lytham were somewhat subdued, owing partly to playing five distinctly unique courses over the previous three days and partly to our host, James, tempering expectations for the afternoon when he glossed Lytham as a brutally difficult test lacking the scenic elements of the other courses on the itinerary (we later found out he grew up nearby and had a couple rough tournament rounds in juniors out there, possibly coloring his recollection a tad.) And while the course is hemmed in on all sides by houses and does not meet the sea, I found it distinctly charming and unique. The routing, the railroad tracks that abut the front nine, the clubhouse, the stereotypically English row-houses, and the walking paths criss-crossing the course all contributed to the atmosphere. But in the end the 206 bunkers are my enduring memory.

Any discussion of Lytham begins and ends with the routing, which is “out and back” all the way – the ninth green being the farthest point from the clubhouse. As such, the direction of the wind was of the utmost importance, and as was the case for the entirety of the trip, we were buffeted by a wind that came from the opposite that complicated matters on the normally-benign par three opening hole (love a one-shotter to lead things off – all too rare), turning a straightforward 200 yard poke into a litmus test that eviscerated anything with too much backspin. The 2nd hole was 425 dead into the wind, the third was 460 dead-in with train tracks all down the right on both. I probably looked more like a hobo than a golfer, having spent the bulk of the second and third holes on/over/near the tracks.

The one refrain that we heard from anyone before we showed up was “gotta make the most of the scoring opportunities on that front nine and then buckle up!” At this point in the round it seemed like everyone had just been blowing smoke up our asses.

The 4th hole (pictured above) provided a brief respite before the windward 5-9 stretch, all dead in. This flat, relatively nondescript piece of land has a lot more bite than bark, with hollows, mounding and rolls that would make Perry Maxwell blush. The bunkers were impeccably-placed, many times in clusters, which made the sheer number of them that much more astounding. The sixth (pictured below) provided a perfect example of this, with the fairway breaking more severely in multiple directions than most of the greens we played on the trip.

The stretch of holes 8 through 11 was my favorite of the entire trip – strategic, quirky and fun. The 8th is a 400 yard two-shotter to an elevated green, the train tracks all down the right and the green fronted by cavernous bunkers. At first glance the green looked out of place, belonging more at Bethpage, but once we reached the top of it and saw the rest of this corner of the property it blended in seamlessly. Below are the train tracks from 8 tee:The approach up the hill to 8 green:A spot of bother on 8:The 9th (below) is reminiscent of the corner pocket on a billiards table. Tucked into a quaint nook with a church behind, seven gratuitously deep bunkers, and the falsest of fronts. This one was like a mid-round recess – a distinct change of pace from the long irons we’d been grappling with.The 10th (below) is a fantastic shorter four with a demanding drive between two mounds, but since it was downwind for us it was nearly drivable, albeit to a severe back to front green. I’d decided that I loved the place by the time we reached the 11th, a hulking, dogleg-left par five. Instead of bunkers looming brutishly and aggressively, at Royal Lytham they blend seamlessly into the surrounds, sitting light on the terrain, some featuring curves that softened their presentation. Also, the penalty exacted for finding bunkers varied widely, as if Harry Colt very consciously assigned different penalty values ranging from a half shot to two shots depending upon how egregious your miss. That strategic nuance, coupled with the understated, classy curves, provide for an emminently fair test. Before I stop gushing about the 11th I’ll add that the tight rolls in the fairway were unforgettable.

Looking back at the bunker guarding the right side of 11 green:The 12th is as tough a flat, hazardless par three as you’ll find. Also notable because I somehow ended up in the “taint” between the right bunkers (seen below) and wrecked my round trying to thread the needle between them with a texas wedge, which I was hopelessly addicted to by the end of the trip.One of my keenest Open Championship memories is of Adam Scott bogeying the last four holes in 2012 to lose in an unbearable fashion to Ernie Els. I was gutted for him at the time and carried that with me as we played the closing stretch. The last six holes are par fours, and once you get through the 13th it gets downright mean, especially off the tee. Here’s genteel 13th:After growing accustomed to the long, consistent routing of the first twelve holes, the zig-zag of the last six is a jolt, as each hole plays in a distinctly different direction, making shot shape a priority. With sand hills outlining the fairways, OB directly right of 14 green, a semi-blind approach into the 464 yard 15th, a completely blind tee shot on the short 16th, the sixteen bunkers lining the 467-yard hellscape that is the 17th, and the menacing lines of fairway bunkers on the 18th it this is undoubtedly one of the most demanding finishing stretches in golf. You can’t hide. If you get out of position you get exposed quickly and bleed out to close your round out (unless you’re Seve, who I would’ve paid top dollar to watch shape the ball around this course with a balata). The 18th is eminently fun – so gettable, yet so much trouble lurking at the same time. I apologize for the lack of pictures of the last five holes – the lighting got a little dark and we were grinding! Here’s a look at 15 tee showing the expanse of the property:

Of the six courses we played this was the one that I yearn to go back and play the most, particularly late in the season when it plays even firmer (and also on an occasion when we can enjoy the macked-out clubhouse, as our timing did not allow us to spend any time in there.) The course presents a unique strategic challenge, forcing decisive shots on every nearly every hole and rewarding those who can shape the ball and hold the wind.

This write-up led me down the rabbit hole of Opens heat Royal Lytham & St Annes and I had a few takeaways, mostly having to do with this being the ultimate “horses for courses” venue for the choicest ballstrikers (see: Duval, Sorenstam, Lehman, Jones, Els):

Because of the way Adam Scott lost in 2012, Ernie Els doesn’t seem to get enough credit for his 68-68 weekend. In the other two times the Open was held here during his career he finished T2 (’96 when Lehman won) and T3 (’01 when Duval won)

Peter Thomson, who won seemingly everywhere we played on the trip, finished solo second in ’52, then won in ’58, fifth in ’63, T3 in ’69, and T26 at the age of 50 in ’79.

Nicklaus never won here but he stacked up a few top fives (in the midst of his 18 year stretch in the Open when he finished outside the top 10 just once (a T12) and outside the top 5 just twice. Insane.

BigCat should’ve been right there in 2012 – tripled 6 and then bogeyed 9, 13, 14, 15 coming in to lose by four. Not good!

All said, perfect place to close out the long weekend. I’d highly recommend hitting Lytham & St Annes on a day when you’re playing just one round, and after you have a few rounds under your belt on the trip, as you’ll want your game sharp and your tank full for a course that demonstrates better than most how to defend par without distance.Special thanks to James’ dad, 

England Golf Trip Part VI: Royal Lytham &#038; St Annes

Back in Scotland, but this time I’m headed north through the highlands. The first round on this trip is at Castle Stuart. This course is hardly a secret, but came highly recommended to me by 

, and the guy who is quickly becoming the resident social media expert on all things related to Scottish golf. It was not hard to see why the recommendation came so strongly. (For more details on this experience in podcast form, 

check out this episode I recorded with Ru

 shortly after the round. It also includes several other courses in the area).

The variety of courses you encounter across Scotland continues to amaze me. Sometimes you can drown yourself in course research leading into a trip, and while this certainly has its benefits, it can also ruin a bit of the element of surprise. My research on Castle Stuart was intentionally minimal, and though I had seen it on television at the Scottish Open, upon arrival I was surprised at its modern nature. The initial vibe I got was very similar to the one at Kingsbarns, and I would soon find out that Mark Parsinen, the co-designer of Castle Stuart, was also integral in the development of the slightly older Kingsbarns in Fife.

The clubhouse is fantastic, and huge by UK standards. In the picture above, you can see the intentional design to give the desired 180 degree views of the putting green, the golf course, and of course the view of Moray Firth. It’s three stories with speedy wifi, and built to accommodate the American tourist. This place was designed with a specific vision, and it is executed to perfection.

Castle Stuart is not the easiest course in the world to get to from the states. Most flights for the trip you organize are going to bring you into Edinburgh, and from there it’s an (easy) three hour drive. What makes Castle Stuart such an easy sell is the fact there there are a bevy of world class courses in the area all within a short drive of each other. Royal Dornoch (post to come), Brora, and Nairn are all within earshot, and makes the trip that much more worthwhile. But more on this later.

If you’re not obligated to fly into Edinburgh, Castle Stuart could not be more conveniently located to the Inverness airport. The course even has a a shuttle for the four minute haul (1.9 miles) from the airport, and both British Airways and KLM have added flights to Inverness in recent years. If the logistics of planning a Scotland golf trip intimidate you, these guys are here to help you out.

Blessed with a 70 degree sunny day, I make my way to the first tee to try to figure out whether this is all real. On two hours of sleep and following the three hour drive from Edinburgh, my energy is driven entirely by the setting. In my experience, Scotland’s rep for horrible weather is drastically overblown, but I’m well aware that days like this are a rarity. Shorts and short sleeves, and an almost empty golf course. Let’s roll.

The first three holes play along the Moray Firth (holes two and three pictures above), and they ease you in quite nicely. Although the course is designed as a championship course and has hosted the Scottish Open four times already, it’s extremely playable for the amateur players. The fairways are wide, the green complexes are friendly, and with the wind down on this day, it’s very gettable. The par-5 2nd can be easily reached, and the drivable 3rd is another welcome birdie opportunity (and the site of this ridiculous Phil flop that they’re still talking about there):

The 4th is a par-3 that comes back the other way, and you see the glorious Castle Stuart itself in the background. After barely being able to make contact with the ball for the first two holes, I’m starting to stripe it, aided by the fact that I can fly around at my own pace. But I’m in no hurry. I take some time with the drone to capture the scenes and to make sure I’m not done with this walk in two hours.

The 7th is a wonderful and challenging dogleg left par four, followed by the punchbowl par-3 8th. Both of these holes fit the eye just perfectly, and separate themselves out from the other holes on the front in terms of difficulty and shot values.

Getting cocky as I play the 9th, I take on a flag I have no business shooting at. Although it was a foot from perfection, the ball takes the slope short of the pin, and comes back 30 yards down a hill. The course is utterly friendly, but that doesn’t mean your mistakes don’t get punished.

I make the turn and play through a nice couple on the 10th. We’re back along the firth now, and after a scrambling par at the 10th, I step up to the stunning par-3 11th. Hitting back at the water from an elevated tee, I start to feel the breeze for the first time today. I saw off the most perfect 8-iron I’ve ever hit, and I’m not kidding you when I say I’m filled with regret that I’m playing solo and that my first hole-in-one is going to go unwitnessed. The ball hasn’t even landed yet, and I’m already thinking about how to get the nice couple’s attention so that they somehow see this ball go in. It lands a foot in front of the hole, and hits hard off the left lip. It might have even jammed between the pin and the lip. To this point in my life it was easily the closest I have ever been to an ace (more on this at a later date).

The turf here is some of the best I’ve ever hit off of on any course, much less a links course. I’ve written in the past how difficult it can be to properly compress irons off firm links fairways, and how difficult it is to elevate the ball in those conditions. But (again) similar to Kingsbarns, the grass here is inherently more playable and undoubtedly helped the stripe show. It’s an Americanized version of Scottish golf, and it’s some of the most fun golf that you can play.

The 14th is a quintessential links golf hole. It’s only 380 yards today, and playing downwind with a very wide fairway. Your instincts are screaming at you to hit a driver, as there appears to be no reason not to. However, you know you’re going to leave yourself one of those awkward 60 yard link shots were you have a bevy of options of how to play it, and none of them are comfortable. If you go long with your second, you’re done. Absolutely done. On the tee it seems like the wind was really helping you. Once you get your second shot, you realize that downwind on a shot like this is actually working against you. Then on the next hole, you’re going to have to go back into that wind. Links golf!

The 17th (above) is a long par-3 with a large fairway landing area to assist you getting back to the pin. I’ve still got it groovin’, and manage to get up and down for a par and head for the last sitting at one under on the day. The wind is going pretty good at this point, and is opposite of the prevailing wind. This means the 520 yard par-5 18th is dead down, and a busted drive leaves me 170 yards in from the right rough. A pure wedge, friendly hop, and I’m 15 feet from the pin looking at an eagle putt for a 69. In the last round I played before this trip, I hit three greens in regulation! The eagle putt slides low, and I tap in for an extremely satisfying (breakfast ball on the first) two under par 70. It is of course witness-free, so it feels a bit dirty, and I benefited greatly from the pace of playing solo.

If I hadn’t already previously arranged an evening round up the road at Brora, I wouldn’t have even stopped in the clubhouse before heading back out to the first tee. The replayability of Castle Stuart is off the charts, and though I hate ranking courses, it most certainly would be near the top of any list I would make of the top courses in Scotland.

The green fees for the course from May through September are £195 (approximately $245). However, a 36 hole ticket (

playable by the same golfer over any consecutive 7 day period) 

is £250 (approximately $315). That 36 hole rate immediately caught my eye as a great deal, and considering the replayability noted above, Castle Stuart most certainly qualifies as a course you will want to play more than once.

bookings section of the Castle Stuart website

Castle Stuart


Growing up in the United States, no matter how close to the solstice you played, your round of golf always had to end. As an adult, it’s usually because the real world is beckoning, but as a kid it was usually because the sun was setting and it simply wasn’t possible to see the ball anymore. I can’t remember a sunset that I was thankful for in those days as I never wanted those evenings to end. So when I first heard about 

 in northern Norway, where the sun does not set for two months, I became enamored with the idea of playing golf through the night.

After spending the last 33 months living in and traveling around Europe, and with a move home date quickly approaching, some travel buddies and I booked one big final European excursion. First, three days exploring the vast wilderness of the Arctic on an archipelego called Svalbard, then making our way down the Lofoten Islands in northern Norway for a week of hiking, kayaking, beaches, and ten straight days of no sunsets. These buddies aren’t exactly golfers, but I was able to show them some pictures of the nothernmost links course in the world, and surprisingly it didn’t take them much convincing to get them to accompany me.

Arctic islands and puddle jumping flights are less than ideal for golf trips. There were no clubs packed or shipped, and we were limited to packing one bag each to last us 10 days. This meant one pair of shoes (hiking boots, a necessity in this part of the world) and rental clubs. Not a bother at all, as our scores weren’t even kept. We’re here for the mountains, the ocean, and to try to figure out how the hell they built a golf course onto this piece of land.

The days leading up to our scheduled visit were spent watching the forecasts closely, and I could barely contain my excitement when we awoke on that Tuesday morning to a glorious 65 degree day. We spent the afternoon at Haukland Beach soaking up the rays, watching Norweigan girls strip down to just their bikini bottoms and sprint towards the freezing cold water to take their Instagram pictures. We hiked around, had a picnic on the beach, and steamed with envy when six gorgeous girls playing beach volleyball chose to invite four Norwegian guys, and not us, near us into their game. Damn you, odd numbers.

So far, Lofoten seems like a perfect paradise. We’re in no rush to make our way to the course, as there is no concept of time here. The only reason you have to look at a clock is to try to time your hunger with a restaurant opening, or to make it to a grocery store before the 8 PM cutoff for alcohol sales. Your energy comes and goes at all times of the day (slash night?). It was not unusual to spend a rainy afternoon in bed, and to be hiking a mountain under clear skies in the midnight hours. It’s surreal.

World class Norwegian engineering makes traveling these island roads a scenic breeze, and as we rounded the corner and first laid eyes on the property, the ooh’s and aah’s reverberated through the car. Sandwiched between the majestic Lofoten mountains and the calm ocean was the golf course I had seen in many magazines and on many websites over the recent years. Here it was in real life, and it was spellbinding.

We arrive at 6 PM to a surprisingly busy clubhouse. This is a rather remote part of the world, but with clear skies in the forecast, there’s a plethora of visitors here to get the full experience. We check into our cabin down the road, and get sorted for an official tee time: 8:40 PM, with the invitation to play as long as we’d like. My buddies are only gonna stick around for 9 holes, so the pro recommends to us that we play the back nine first (and we would soon see why). We ask what we should do with their rental clubs when they’re done.

“Oh, the golf shop will still be open. We’re open until midnight.”

Lofoten Links is one of the five northernmost golf courses in the world. It’s not easy to get to, but its remoteness is perhaps its most endearing quality. Situated almost 100 miles above the Arctic Circle, the sun rises on May 23 and does not set until July 25. The property faces north, which maximizes the sunlight during this time of year, as it doesn’t even dip behind the significant mountainous landscape. On a clear day, you can see the sun stop falling out of the sky, and start to rise as the dew forms on the grass, not coming close to touching the horizon.

Frode Hov is the founder and managing director of the course, and the course is built there on his family’s land on the north coast of the island of Gimsoya. Construction on the course began in April 1998, and opened later that July as a nine hole course measuring just 2,172 yards. Now it is a full 18 hole layout stretching out to over 6,000 meters (about 6,600 yards) from the back tees.

Norway’s coast is not ripe with field of green grass and fertile soil. The terrain is mostly a combination of rocks, marshy wetlands, and basically anything else that would potentially inhibit you from building a golf course. It’s rugged, and one of the first things you’ll notice about Lofoten Links is its raw nature. The fairways are narrow, and if you miss them, you likely aren’t finding your ball.

The “rough” is a combination of rocks, marsh, heather, and more rocks. The most demoralizing part is that in the midnight sun, the rocks kind of look like golf balls, and you get repeatedly fooled into thinking that you’ve finally found your ball. This “unfinished look” gives you an even greater appreciation for how difficult it must have been to carve out tee boxes, fairways, and especially greens on land that’s so unforgiving. The pathways between holes are rocky, and sometimes it’s even a bit difficult to find where your next teeing ground is. It’s grueling, and it’s awesome.

We’re here in June, which isn’t quite the peak time of year. Snow is still melting on the mountains in the distance, as the spring bloom from the harsh Norwegian winter slowly takes shape. The greens are furry, and the course isn’t in top form yet, but it’s hardly even noticeable considering the setting.

We had trouble finding the 10th tee from the clubhouse, but once we did, we knew we were in for a tough test. A narrow fairway awaited us from an elevated tee, and you play away from the water and back towards the mountains that define these islands in the distance. Watching the traj against those mountains was the perfect scene setter, just in case for a second you forgot where you were on Earth.

After another par-4, you cross the main road to the long par-3 12th with a great view of the water behind it. Next, a dynamic dogleg left par-5 with beautiful views towards the Gimsoy maelstrom. Do I know what a maelstrom is? No. But that’s what the course guide size, and that sounds amazing.

I mean, just look at this video:

The hits keep on coming.

The 14th, another tee shot at a mountain, this time the one just barely off the property.

The 15th, back away from the clubhouse and towards the clouds that are rolling in through the mountains in the distance.

Next, another incredible par-4 back out towards the water. The 17th tee is a miniscule little cutout and set deep on the rocky coast for the 160 yard par-3 (see the last shot from the video at the top of this post). The routing from holes 12-17 is one of the most scenic stretches of golf I’ve seen on this planet, although I’m still not fully convinced that we were on Earth.

With no one in front or behind us, we took our sweet time on this stretch taking photographs, drone shots, hitting multiple shots, and doing everything we could to soak up this environment. The other guys had run out of balls by the turn, and even though they were only planning on playing nine holes, they grabbed beers in the clubhouse and came out to walk the other nine with me. Even non-golfers were able to grasp the uniqueness of this experience, and they were in no hurry to leave the property despite being done playing.

The sun is low, and sitting directly behind the signature 2nd hole. This par-3 is the one you’ve seen pictures of, but in this light, it was tough for us to capture our own.

It’s just a flip wedge out onto the peninsula from an elevated tee, but it’s a tough green to hold with the wind at your back.


The boys gathered round the 6th tee to hit one final shot before heading out for the night. They’re well aware that I’m staying as long as my legs are still functioning, and leave me to go on this spiritual journey on my own. I started with a dozen balls, but my stash has been depleted by offline shots that I’m blaming on the rental set. Energy is dipping faster than I had anticipated, and my body clock is trying to tell me that it’s time to sleep.

I’m making the turn for another nine holes. On my own with only my thoughts and back on the best stretch on the course, the weight of the experience really starts to set in. Everyone has heard of the Pebble Beaches and Winged Foots of the world, but how many experiences outside of the world top 100 are like this?

I’m beat up after a day in the sun and a lack of sleep over the last three days, but there’s no chance I’m getting pulled off this golf course. You might think that the light is at least starting to fade to a dusky twilight glow, but it’s as bright as it was at noon earlier that day. There’s a couple out in front of me enjoying the scene. The wind is blowing, my hands are getting cold, and my game is getting worse and worse. And I’m having the time of my life.

The sun has been slowly, slowly dipping for five hours now, and just as it looks like it’s going to go below the horizon, it begins to rise back up again. The couple ahead of me has called it a night, and there’s not a single sound except for the wind, waves, and the birds. It’s golf nirvana.

There’s dew forming on the ground. The wind has calm down a bit and I’m down to three golf balls. I’m going to play until I run out so I’m moving up tee boxes just to make sure I can make it all the way around. A single cloud drifts over the sun and it starts to get really cold.

The sun is back out in all its glory. I’m finished on the 18th, but I grab a wedge and head back out to the signature second hole to play it one last time. My FitBit starts vibrating, and knowing I was already over 30,000 steps for the day, I’m assuming it means that it’s dying. Nope. It resets at midnight, and I just hit 10,000 steps 

With the sun now off to the right, the hole could not look more scenic. To my left, my cabin is in the distance. I hit one to a foot and knew that was the signal to call it a night.

Writing

Royal Dornoch

Brora Golf Club

August Mailbag

England Golf Trip Part VI: Royal Lytham & St Annes

Castle Stuart

Playing Through the Midnight Sun at Lofoten Links

Why I can't stop cheering for Jordan Spieth

Rahm is on the Loose at the Irish Open

Notes from the Dubai Duty Free Irish Open

Quicken Loans National: What to watch for at TPC Potomac

Opinion: Should the USGA return to Erin Hills?

U.S. Open: Three stories to (probably not) watch

2017 US Open Preview

Royal Portrush

Royal County Down

Memorial Tournament Recap

Jack Nicklaus and the Memorial: 40 Years of History

Hogan's Alley: Colonial's Tradition-Rich History

Writing

Royal Dornoch

Brora Golf Club

August Mailbag

England Golf Trip Part VI: Royal Lytham &#038; St Annes

Castle Stuart

Playing Through the Midnight Sun at Lofoten Links

Why I can't stop cheering for Jordan Spieth

Rahm is on the Loose at the Irish Open

Notes from the Dubai Duty Free Irish Open

Quicken Loans National: What to watch for at TPC Potomac

Opinion: Should the USGA return to Erin Hills?

U.S. Open: Three stories to (probably not) watch

2017 US Open Preview

Royal Portrush

Royal County Down

Memorial Tournament Recap

Jack Nicklaus and the Memorial: 40 Years of History

Hogan's Alley: Colonial's Tradition-Rich History

England Golf Trip Part VI: Royal Lytham & St Annes