With the sun drooping in the sky beyond, Westhampton Beach was our resting point for the evening. There, the scraggly dunes melted down towards a double fairway passage of virgin sand. A gentle zephyr was blowing from across the sea and as the waves crashed onto the sand, not a soul was in sight. The temptation was too great: we needed to play golf.
And so across the landscape we crafted out a five hole course, incorporating some of the features to keep the mind interested. Armed with a flask of Islay's finest and a hickory one iron who had seen better days, it was game on.