Balcomie Days

We've parked ourselves in the picturesque coastal village of Crail for five nights.  Located only some twelve miles south of St. Andrews, the Crail Golfing Society is the seventh oldest golf club in the world.  For those seeking entry to the clubhouse the pass code is 1786, a number of obvious significance to these lovely folks.

Crail's famed Balcomie Links has long been an embarrassing omission on my links C.V., one that this trip's itinerary was designed to remedy.  The folks at CGS seem to not be plagued by a need to keep up with the times, as their famed links tops out at 5,861 yards.  It's eccentric routing also features both back-to-back Par-3's (there are five of those) and Par-5's, and the only other course that I can recall featuring that double-double is Cypress Point.

In the Things That Don't Suck category we'll start with the view from the putting green:

We're back to match play and immediately confront our frequent issue with differing pars... In this case I inquired of a gent named David manning the counter at the pro shop.  His advice was to ignore that difference, though he did seem reluctant to express that directly to herself.

 The links are a tight little affair, and often times it was necessary to confirm the line of play and/or target, as in this view from the first tee:

The green visible below is in fact the 14th, as the line of play is to the left of the old lifeboat house.

Madam took immediate advantage of her sugar on the first two holes, and in fact used only 36 strokes in aggregate to seize a three-up advantage after eight holes.

When she'a a-posin', I'm a-hosed.

Her caddie Kane, son of the club's longtime head professional, had her on a string.

Their fifth hole is worth a note. Aptly named Hell's Hole, it's an early and rather dramatic example of a Cape Hole off the tee:

The challenge is that a sensible line off the tee will leave you some 200 yards in, and my rather foolhardy line still left me all of 180 in.

Theresa is shown putting on the fifth green above, and she was amusingly given one of the cow's arses as the line for her third.  Alas she wasn't so amused that she didn't make a tidy 5 for 4.

But somewhere between the eighth green and ninth tee her pact with the devil lapsed, and her numbers turned crookeder.  And as her game went south her mood turned surlier:

I don't like that attitude at all, Madam!.

I won four straight holes during the bride's walkabout, the ninth through twelfth.  The eleventh hole, a Par-5 called Lang Whang, became the source of an on-course argument, as it carried the No. 14 Stroke Index.  Accordingly, Madam was not given a stroke on this hole and she was not, I repeat, NOT amused.  Therein ensued a rather harsh character assassination as to the scorekeeper's lineage and character, wholly unbecoming a sportswoman,

The ninth and tenth holes feature this lovely old stone wall as its out-of-bounds marker.

It certainly meets our standards for a beautiful walk...

Theresa channeled her anger back into her golf game, and the golf coming home was the best of the day.  Our card shows many 3's and 4's down the home stretch, and those rarely hurt you...

Uncharacteristically sloppy play by a certain Club Champion on the 17th proved to be the turning point, as I managed to hold her off on the closing hole.  She had a putt to square the match that threatened the hole, but fell off abruptly, dashing her hopes.

In this case the high point of the property was indeed the carpark.  That's my man, Max on the left, and Kane on the right.

The recriminations were mitigated by the quite bearable venue for our post-round lager, a worthy addition to our Things That Don't Suck files.

Theresa's frustrations led her to check the Willow Ridge website to check her opponents handicap, noting with glee that I had failed to adjust for the August 15th update in which my handicap had it seems dropped to a seven (I've been playing as an eight).  And yet her protests were curiously muted, as under similar circumstances (Colin King, call your office) I'd be howling mightily...

I let things stand there awaiting her further accusations, but there the matter seemingly died....It was only as she drained her second glas sof wine at dinner that she inquired as to whether I had similarly checked her handicap...Aha, I cried, you went down to a seventeen as well, didn't you?  And indeed she had, Club Championship and all.  

The results stand and the decision of the Committee is final!  Current standings: S. Simpson 3.5 - T. Simpson 1.5.