Porthcawling

Royal Porthcawl Golf Club is by far the most prominent of the Welsh clubs, having hosted two Senior British Opens in the last three years as well as a Walker Cup, The Amateur Championship and many others.  The last of those Senior Opens was a mere three weeks ago, in which the round bellies battled harsh conditions for most of the week.

A golf trip to Wales will inevitably be organized around Porthcawl, so it was disappointing as our visit got off on the wrong foot.  There was the weather forecast noted in the prior post, although the sun was making occasional visits as we arrived.  However, our request for caddies didn't seem to have been acted upon and the greens had been aerated.  Harumph!  Forgive the salty language, though I'll give the club credit for making things right.  More on that later...

Stone boundary walls were visible on spots of the course such as the 7th tee:

We met a woman walking her dog (a Welsh Corgi, just like the Queen has) as we waited for this green to clear, and she told us that she had a match that afternoon.  She also told us about acting as a Marshall for the senior Open, the worst weather to play in she'd ever seen.  We saw her later as her foursomes match began.

The short seventh was listed as 119 yards on the card, but the pin was up and it was likely playing no more than 95 yards, though into the breeze:

This anorexic chippy gap wedge came up short.  By about two inches.

It's of a type of very short holes on links, probably the best-known is the ninth at Lytham.  Very short but adequately protected by the punitive bunkers:

The six bunkers visible are all, so perhaps the members simply play long of them?

We brought her to her knees, at least on this one day.

While playing the 13th, the foursome in front of us erupted in jubilation at a fine shot played to the one-shot 14th.  When it was our turn, I drew a little knocked-down nine-iron in to four feet, just like I drew it up in my mind, and has the pleasure of putting a second 2 on my card.  Fair play to me, as they say over here, but Tessie found one of the greenside bunkers.  This would be her bunker shot:

Yes, directly away from the flag.  Whereupon, from a tight lie, she proceeded to get up-and-in for the Best. Bogey. Evah.

As we started our round I noted the 18th green, but couldn't identify the relevant fairway.  I figured it out as we exited the 17th green, it starts at the high-point of the property and descends straight to the water, crossing the first hole.  The folks in this photo have just teed off and are heading down the first:

For those unfamiliar with the history, Tiger Woods played in that 1995 Walker Cup at Porthcawl. with an unusual sequence of results.  On that three-shot 17th he bombed a drive, then holed a pitching wedge for an albatross.  On the 18th he also bombed his drive, but then hooked an 8-iron that finished against the foundation of the clubhouse to lose his match to Gary Wolstenholme.

As much as the golf was enjoyed, our time at the club afterwards was even more enjoyable.  First, I spoke with the club's assistant secretary about the condition of the course, and he handled it in a manner completely to our satisfaction.  To their credit, a confirmation e-mail did cover the subject, though may remain unread in my e-mailbox.  All's well that ends well...

Then this gentleman introduced himself to us in the parking lot, inquiring as to our day at his club:

Improbably, his name is Keith Simpson, though I assure him that he's far too tall and well-spoken for us to share genetic material.

We then met four gents in the bar that were equally welcoming, taking it upon themselves to correct my pronunciation of Pennard and Bridgend.  Bear with me, as we;ll see these gents again in  a bit...

Then we saw the welcome mat:

Thank you, it was our pleasure to join you....  We then were informed that lunch was included with our golf, another reason perhaps that I really should read those confirmation e-mails.  The club's restaurant is in a lovely spot overlooking the first tee and 18th green:

At the next table were the four gents that had played in front of us, and they quickly engaged us in conversation about our trip.  They apologized for holding us up, a bit rich given that their fourball caused our twoball brief waits perhaps a couple of times all day.  They also noted my fine shot into the 14th, and we do love the roars of the crowd, no?

They belong to Glamorganshire Golf Club, an inland club that's perhaps the third oldest in Wales.  It was members of Glamorganshire that formed Porthcawl, so they're sister clubs of a sort.  In order to establish the bona fides of Glamorganshire, Roger, the gentleman at the right and thereby nearest to me initiated a conversation:

Roger:  You've no doubt played competitions under the Stableford scoring system? 

Me:  Yes, but fewer than you'd imagine, as the Stableford is not especially popular in the States. 

Roger:  Do you know where the Stableford originated? 

Me:  Yes, at Wallasey in Liverpool. 

Roger's Table:  Uncontrollable laughter.

Much fun ensued...  It turns out that there is a raging controversy between Wallasey and Glamorganshire over Dr. Frank Stableford, which the R&A was called upon to adjudicate.  Both clubs claim the good doctor, with reality being that a points-based system was first developed at the Welsh club that was subsequently codified into that which we now know as the Stableford at the Liverpool club.  The clubs have made their peace with the shared ownership of this piece of history, and play an annual match against each other as a result.  Under a Stableford format, one presumes...

Much laughter ensued and Wallasey became a sort of code word to shut off any contrary thought stream as we all enjoyed our lunch and a cocktail.  The gents took us into the bar to show us an old photograph that included Dr. Frank, and sitting under it were the four gentlemen we had met previously. and we talked briefly again about our travels and love of golf in their kingdom.  Somehow we segued to the Welsh language and its double "L;s", and I mentioned that incredibly long place name that I had blogged in this post.  

This was the name as I copied-and-pasted from Wikipedia:

Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch

They were certain that a triple-"L" was impossible, yet there it is....  Correction, it now seems to be a quad....

More importantly, one of the gents agreed to say the name for us.... I got the video going a bit late, but enjoy:

Of such silliness are memories made.  As I was filming Theresa was told that our lead actor is the club's Captain, which makes me like him all the more.

A wonderful day in all regards.