The Mauling at Murvagh

When last we chatted, Theresa and I had just settled into the lovely Lough Eske resort, wished the bride and groom all the best and were prepared to resume hostilities at Donegal Golf Club, better known in the trade as Murvagh for the peninsula upon which it sits.

The day began in promising fashion, with the knock-down driver operating as if the ball were on a string, and Theresa still a bit off her game.  A couple of early pars gave me a two-up lead after three holes, but I know this woman far too well to take anything for granted.

The Par-3 fifth hole.

No need to wait long as she immediately stormed back to square things up, winning the fourth and fifth holes, the later appropriately named "Valley of tears."  Murvagh as a course did not disappoint, winding imaginatively through dunes with the Maram grass waving in the breezes.  The turf is suitably firm, and there was little need to ask why all yardages are to the front of greens, as anything that landed deeper would end up off the back.

I was disappointed to squander a one-up lead on the ninth with a dreadful bunker shot that almost reached the carpark, but was playing well enough to be optimistic about the incoming nine.  But Bridezilla, alas, had different plans

The only party nonplussed by the lie outside the bunker is Blogger, which refuses to allow me to add a caption to the photo.  Theresa, on the other hand, quickly improvised a grip and channeling the Slammer deftly rolled her ball onto the green.  It was actually quite instinctively clever, as the wedge would have been impossible to control whereas it was relatively easy for her to square up the putter.  That's absolutely the last time I make the mistake of marrying a clever one... But I digress.

After we both made a mess of the tenth, Theresa then proceeded to play her best golf of the trip,

requiring a mere 39 strokes for the final eight holes.  She made two long putts, including a lobster on No. 12 that at least 3 1/2 lbs.  She delivered the final thrust of the dagger on No. 17, a short Par-4 in which she found herself in the right semi-rough.  With the pin tucked behind a bunker the size of Rhode Island on the right side of the green, Theresa played the sensible shot to the left side taking the bunker out of play.  She also played it with perfect weight, and the ball hopped 90 degrees right and trundled down to kick-in range, and three-for-two thank you very much.  

In the midst of the onslaught, I sought refuge from the storm, but she was relentless.  But Murvagh offered great scenery and challenging golf, and we'll be back when circumstances allow:

For what it's worth, that vegetation in the bottom photo, near the tenth green, is unlike anything I've previously seen in these parts.

 Garnering 2 1/2 of 3 points, T. Simpson bolts to a 5-4 lead.

Next Up: A Portnoo Waterloo