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.