North Berwick: Six years later, we start where we finished
Another chance to clear the stone wall on No. 13
In the spring of 2019, in anticipation of my 70th birthday, my eldest son and I went to Scotland to play golf at hallowed courses.
His invitation to me was this: “Maybe it will rain the entire trip. Maybe we’ll have more lost balls than pars each day. But even my worst vision of this trip has us together for a week with no care in the world other than getting a small white ball underground — well, and remembering to drive on the left side of the road.”
We played at Brora the day we arrived. Then Royal Dornoch, Machrihanish Dunes (36 holes!), Old Machrihanish, nine holes at Crail, Cruden Bay, Carnoustie and, on the last day, North Berwick.
That course was a favorite memory of a trip I took with writers Tom Cade and Blaine Newnham, and photographer Rob Perry several years earlier. It is an old, quirky course, on the Firth of Forth, with wonderful holes, including No. 13, where the green rests behind a low stone wall. My first round there, I hit my ball into the wall, and did the same playing with Jason.
At the end of our round that day, we noticed an empty tee box at No. 1, and inquired about playing again, but it was five minutes past members-only time. It was late, we were tired, but we would have gone around again. We would always go around again. On a special trip, we had played until they turned us away.
And I had left there satisfied, never daring to dream there would be another trip. Knee replacement, ankle surgery in 2020-21. But through the kindness and generosity of of Jason and his wife, Robyn Greene, we go again, in honor of my 75th last September.
On the last trip, I thought a lot about my Dad, a gentlemanly English golfer who loved the game and would have loved the trip. I will start this trip cherishing the fact that I am still golfing, walking 18 holes, still trying to get better (even though the numbers and scorecards say that I am not), that within the last year-plus I’ve golfed with Jason at Bandon Dunes, and introduced youngest son David to that amazing place; I’ve played on Maui with my great friend Mike Stahlberg, and many rounds in Oregon with my regular partner Dennis Gardiner (we keep exchanging the same $2 or $3 after each round) and been graciously welcomed by new friends, the HOGs, at Emerald Valley.
Last time, if we went without a care in the world, well, that would be naive to say now. Jason is a father, and leaving 2-year-old Cora, even for a week, is not easy. And I wrestle with being older, and all the manifestations of that with my sinking, shrinking body.
This time, I take inspiration from wonderful guide book at Royal Dornoch, advising us on the first tee to “draw breath and enjoy the clean score sheet and all the possibilities that lie ahead. Choose now to take one step at a time and enjoy what that step holds.”
For the second hole, a par three, the book speaks directly to those of us who flay ourselves for bad swings: “Small is beautiful — and testing. One word can build up or knock down. How can the little words we speak be more encouraging?”
From North Berwick, our hope is to be lucky in the lottery to play the Old Course in St. Andrews on one of two open days on our schedule. If not drawn, then maybe Gullane No. 1 or No. 2, or Balcomie, Elie or Lundin Links?
The definites on our itinerary are Murcar, Royal Dornoch, Nairn and Fortrose & Rosemarkie. They are all old links courses, historic, and we are grateful for the chance to play them.
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