If you have heard of Machrihanish, you may know that it is
situated close to the southern tip of Kintyre, a 40-mile-long peninsula that
juts out into the Atlantic off the Ayrshire coast. Its backdrop is
mountainous and the seascapes are shatteringly beautiful.
You will doubtless know about its opening hole. The par 4 has
been adjudged, on several occasions actually, “the world’s greatest opening
hole.” I will borrow a description from the celebrated Scottish writer Sam
McKinlay: “The tee is on a modest eminence overlooking a small burn that runs
into the sea only a duffed drive distant. The Atlantic rollers pound on the
rocks immediately behind the player’s back as he takes his stance. On his
hooking hand runs the start of a six-mile stretch of strand, one of the finest
beaches in Britain. If he is brave and skillful
he can bang straight at the flag a quarter of a mile away, but that means a
carry of nearly 200 yards over beach and bent. If he is timid, prudent, or just
one of the weaker vessels, he has an easy if longer way round.”
It is surely the most thrilling first tee shot in golf. In
British golf writing circles, you hear so much about the opener at Machrihanish
that it is almost as if the rest of the course were not worth playing.
Yet at the risk of annoying everyone who has ever written
about the course, I will declare that I do not think it the greatest hole at
Machrihanish. It is a fine hole, for sure, but I believe there are better holes:
the 5th, 8th and the 14th, for example.
It is an unashamedly old-fashioned test, but then
Machrihanish is a fairly ancient links. The club, originally called the Kintyre
Golf Club, has existed since 1876. The golf course wasn’t so much built as
uncovered. The first layout, a crude 10-holer, took all of a week to prepare.
Within a year the club had 12 holes and in 1879, Old Tom Morris was invited over
from St. Andrews to extend the course to a full
18.
Very simply, the links stretches out and stretches back. It
zigzags its way to the 9th tee, makes an abrupt turn to the right, then zigzags
its way home. Over the years a few architects have tinkered with Old Tom’s
routing but—and thank goodness—none has sought to temper the course’s natural
undulations. The fairways appear like giant crumpled duvets. They pitch and
toss, twist and tumble more than any set of fairways in golf. After the 1st hole
they do not weave their way along the shore, rather they dive right in amongst
the dunes.
It is cavalier golf. At No. 2, you play your approach uphill,
over a burn to a green that is concealed in a dell. All you see from the
fairway—if you’re fortunate—is the top of the flag. The 3rd tee shot is blind
over a crest, but when you reach that crest a wonderful view awaits. Set against
an inspiring ocean vista, the fairway is the first of those giant crumpled
duvets and like a golfing minefield, is studded with neatly revetted pot
bunkers. Next is a postage stamp of a par 3, a 123-yarder over the wilderness to
a table green. Miss it and you risk a double bogey.
The back nine has a greater mix of par 3s and par 5s. On calm
days the 17th is just a drive and short iron. On the last, unless you visit one
of the aforementioned pot bunkers that separate the first and 18th fairways, the
chance of a closing birdie is very real.
Then you must head off to the 19th hole. As an affirmed golf
romantic you will surely wish to celebrate your round of golf at
Machrihanish.
