For anyone growing up playing golf in the South-east Asian tropics, the nature of a links course is as foreign as the blare of a bagpipe in the dying hours of a day. But in Scotland, it is par for the course (so to speak), and you’re hard pressed to find good quality courses other than those built on undulating land reclaimed from the sea.

Prior to the first time I’ve ever set sight on a true links course, my impression of these tree-less, pond-less layouts was not too favourable. Honestly, watching a tournament on television played on even the highest-rated links course does not stir much interest in those who like good scenery and landscaping while out on a round.

True to form, my impressions made a turnaround the first time I set foot on a links course several years ago. And since falling in love at first sight, I have tried my best  to make pilgrimages to the home of golf, if only to try my hand – and luck – at conquering yet another famous layout.

This year’s Open Championship at Turnberry offered a prime opportunity to visit Scotland again. And this time, I was adamant to punctuate my trip with a visit to three courses: two on the west coast and one on the other side of Scotland. The trip turned out to be a walk through history and a step towards, perhaps, the future of course design in this fabled country.

Step back in time, Part I
The first time I’ve ever watched an Open Championship was in 2004. Then, in the throng of excitement, I witnessed Todd Hamilton beat Ernie Els on the difficult Old Course at Royal Troon. This time, it was my turn to try my hand at managing the seaside layout drawn up by William Fernie, winner of The Open Championship in 1883.

Royal Troon is as reflective of a true links course as they come. High dunes define the edge of each hole, and the terrain from tee to green can either be a long, lost friend helping to bounce your ball towards your target, or the devil luring it to the devious pits of the pot bunkers. After several years – and many countless wasted shots – playing links courses, I’ve learnt to accept the bounces as they come. It is the nature of the game (much like life itself), and we just have to suck it
up and move on.

Playing Royal Troon reminded me greatly of The Open half a decade ago. Only this time, I was on the fairways assessing the shots. Luckily, the spectator stands were not there, and the only other people on the holes were my playing partners.

The first holes at Royal Troon are fairly innocuous. Although they play along the beaches of Troon, you can’t really see the water; the sound of waves is the only thing that convinces you the sea is nearby. After several straightaway holes, the story changes tack when you come to the winding seventh with its small green. From this 405-yard par 4, interestingly called Tel-el-Kebir, the course starts baring teeth. The best thing about the hole is that as you walk up the fairway, you have possibly the best view of golfers teeing up on the eighth, the famous Postage Stamp.

At only 123 yards from the back tees, it hardly seems a test at all. But when the elements show their darker, windier, wetter sides, the already small green seems to shrink into oblivion, and the five defending bunkers start looking like magnets that your ball will find hard to avoid.

After you make the turnaround, Troon’s Old Course plays back towards the clubhouse. One of the most difficult holes is the notorious 11th or Railway – that narrow, tough par 4 that, at 488 yards, is most definitely a threeshot if distance is an issue. No surprises why this hole is named so. The train tracks is a chip away from the stone wall running along the right side of the fairway, and slicers need to make sure they have enough balls in their bags to survive the challenge.

Royal Troon’s stern test is reflected in the club’s motto: Tam Arte Quam Marte, which means “as much by skill as by  strength”. There is little wonder why the course has played host to The Open Championship eight times, and will do so many more in the future, I’m sure.

Step back in time, Part II
Understanding and accepting the quirkiness of an old links course is part and parcel of the game. And if you talk about idiosyncracies, few come to mind or can match that of the course that hosted the very first Open Championship way back in 1860. If you play Prestwick Golf Club today, there is every reason you will feel like you’ve walked back in time, a sensation
that can be quite magical.

I’ve heard much about  Prestwick before this visit, but my impressions were purely hearsay, and I really did not know what to expect. But walking up to the clubhouse, I peered into one of the stately rooms and saw a collection of dignified-looking gents clad in traditional club blazers, deliberating over what seemed to be a serious issue. In this salon, where ties and jackets are still the only accepted form of attire, tradition lives.

It goes without saying that with a club like this, steeped in history, the course has hardly changed since Old Tom Morris came to Prestwick from St Andrews as the Keeper of the Green, Ball and Club Maker. Members of the course then employed Old Tom to lay out a course in an area bounded by the railway tracks, the Pow Burn and the sea. Morris’ 12-hole course hosted the first Open Championship, won by Willie Park with a score of 174 over 36 holes.

The first tee shot on Prestwick today is one of the toughest in Scotland – not so much for the fact that the 346-yard par 4 plays to a narrow green with a wall situated all along the right side, but that the tee box abuts the clubhouse, allowing everyone to witness your first shot of the day. Be warned: hitting a few balls before your round can save you some heartache, and embarrassment, no less.

If Prestwick were a person, he would be a cranky uncle with peculiar habits and grand stories to tell. At times, he would tell it like it is (like on the 167-yard, par 3 second hole, where what you see is what you get). And at others, he would take you on a wild goose chase, before coming to the point (like on the unusual 502-yard, par-5 third where you have to decide whether to clear a wooden wall running across the fairway with your tee shot, or lay up before hitting onto a hidden fairway beyond). And once in a while, he would start a tall tale and leave you hanging to determine your own conclusion (like on the 206-yard fifth hole, aptly named Himalayas, a blind par-3 that expects you to scale a tall ridge to a green behind surrounded by six bunkers).

Prestwick’s hole designs are as varied as the Scottish weather on an autumn’s day.

Fairways crisscross, and take you up and down the dunes of Prestwick like a roller coaster that has lost its way – but that’s just part of the fun.

This ancient course saves the  best for last. As I approached the 17th, I had almost run out of balls (and I brought a bunch) but was adamant to finish the round with my head held high. The Alps, as this 391-yard monster par 4 is called, demands that you hit the ball over a patch of gorse onto the fairway, if only to be able to clear a hill to reach the hidden green. I coaxed my tee shot onto the first cut of rough, where I thought I pured a 6-iron that soared high over the defending mound. As I rounded the hillock, I discovered that thinking and doing are two different things, and had to chalk up another lost ball.

Just when I was ready to count the round as a washout, score-wise, the 18th presented an enticing proposition. With the wind on my back and absolutely nothing to lose, I struck a tee shot that sailed the entire 284 yards onto the green.

And even though I missed the eagle putt, the tap-in birdie – together with my stroll through golf history – was the only score I remember from that round.

Into the future
After playing Royal Troon and Preswtick on the west coast, my trip took me to St Andrews, where I played the Castle Course. The drive took me across the country, which turned out to be rather symbolic, as I moved from two of the oldest courses in the land to the newest links design.

It is perhaps appropriate that a Scot would design the latest links course in Scotland, and at St Andrews no less. David McLay Kidd’s name is one made famous by his work on Bandon Dunes on the Oregon coast. And despite his success, Kidd was anxious and elated to be chosen as the designer for the seventh course of the St Andrews Links. I had read The Seventh At St Andrews, a book by Scott Gummer chronicling Kidd’s trials and tribulations in building the Castle Course, and was excited to see what the fuss was all about.

My anticipation of a great golf course that combined the traditions of links design with modern sensibilities and treatment were well founded. Kidd’s design is flawless in its rendition of Scotland’s spirit, while dipping into his ample pool of creativity and individualism.

The Castle Course, situated about 10 minutes by car outside of St Andrews, is the only St Andrews links course that affords wonderfully grand views of the town itself. The 18 holes sit on 88 hectares of land, with nearly 2km of waterfront hugging the craggy shoreline.

The course is named after Kinkell Castle, which stood on the headland known as Kinkell Ness, an area near where the  doublegreen of the ninth and 18th stand today. The land was part of a hunting ground for the Pictish kings who adopted St Andrews as their patron, and was known as Cursus Apri, or Boar’s Chase, around the 1100s.

It is to Kidd’s credit that he elected not to design the course from the template of the other grand links of the St Andrews Links Trust. The bunkers have feathered edges, and fairways are fair and wide, if made treacherous by the occasional forced carry over high gorse.

There is no protection from the weather, and when the winds decide to step it up, the course can play very tough.

But each step of the way, golfers have the pleasure of soaking in holes enhanced by knolls that nature has provided, and accentuated by rolling fairways that are as immaculately conditioned as they come.

To differentiate any of the Castle’s wonderful holes from another would be a travesty to Kidd’s cohesive weave: the 421-yard par-4 sixth playing downhill to the green at the north-easternmost corner of the course, and the 456-yard par-4 seventh, running southwards to an uphill green exposed to the stiff sea breeze, may come to mind. But if someone twisted my arm, I would gladly contend that the 17th, that heart-in-your-mouth par 3 over a deep gorge, is the one of choice. At 184 yards, and with the wind howling right to left, this is hit-and-pray at its best. And if your ball fails to get over to the other side, just smile and enjoy the view.

Being the youngest kid on the St Andrews block, the Castle Course has the benefit of a stupendously modern clubhouse that should impress all visitors with its contemporary design and full-fledged amenities.

Perhaps it is apt to consider that the course is not only geographically removed from St Andrews proper; by itself, it stands as a brave, new world in Scottish golf.

Course guide
Royal Troon Golf Club,
www.royaltroon.com,
+44-1292-311555

Prestwick Golf Club,
www.prestwickgc.co.uk,
+44-1292-479485

Castle Course,
www.thecastlecourse.com,
+44-1334-466666