Nefyn & District Golf Club is a place of some renown, notable for nine holes jammed into a peninsula fit for perhaps five. Much more on that later....
Golf here in Morfa Nefyn (Morfa means march), dates back to 1912, though no provenance was provided for the original routing. Two-thirds of The Great Triumverate, James Braid and J.H. Taylor, laid out eight new holes that eventually turned into nine. The use what's called, appropriately enough, the Front Nine for all players, then feed the members onto the new nine and visitors onto the Old Nine, also d/b/a The Point.
The opening drive takes you straight to the sea, and who would object to that?
Past that guide post it goes straight down, though somehow left your humble correspondent with a downhill hanging lie... But I'll not be bitter for long, especially after a birdie at the second.
Tom Doak has this to say about the next couple of holes:
Routing goes straight to the cliffs for 2nd and 3rd holes, which would be world-beaters with more interesting green sites.
That's spot on, as the greens are almost willfully uninteresting. Then again, there's the sea:
It's a delightful walk and fun to play, but not terribly linksy. The turf was a mixture of grasses, and the lies far more plush than one expects over here. Equally important, the bunkers were more American style, as one could advance the ball from them without issue.
This was the only course on the trip where they required that I play from short tees, though I wasn't going to pass up this tee box on the Par-3 fifth that just out into the water. Pulleaze!
No shortage of beautiful vistas:
Now we come to the reason we've come to Nefyn, pretty much the reason anyone comes to Nefyn. It is on this peninsula that they've somehow created nine holes:
As you can see, there is not sufficient room for nine holes, which exist only in the sence that one can stick a peg into the ground nine times. There are, unsurprisingly, four one-shotters and it plays to a par of 33 (only 2,363 yards from the tees they want me to play), 34 for the ladies.
The opener is a short Par-4 that plays downhill about 200 yards where the fairway abruptly ceases, then up and over a steep-faced hill to a hidden green (the photo of Theresa above is actually this first tee on the Old). Alas, we are blind, as my GPS watch provides the distance to Ireland in lieu of that to the 10th green. Theresa left her second on the bank, from which I'm able to retrieve it, but my own must have gone long. Behind the green is a sharp fall-off into the Amazon, seemingly unnecessary in view of the blindness and uncertain distance of the approach shot.
We then play back-to-back Par-3's, one more beguiling than the next:
That's the 12th tee above, which features a massive sinkhole off to the right. It's not especially in play on either this or the 16th, but still something one doesn't expect to see on the links.
No doubt you'll rightfully assume that I included this picture of the 12th green to show off my fine tee shot:
But you'd be wrong, it's in fact to show how close the pubic walking paths come to the line of play. The slightest tug off the tee and we're down one hiker, and on a sunny, dry day it's a target-rich environment.
The best of these as actual golf holes is no doubt the 13th, described by James Finnegan:
“The 415-yard thirteenth, calling up the marvelous 10th on the Ailsa (now changed), is a great hole; a platform tee set thrillingly above the sea, a dogleg left around an inlet daring you to bite off all you believe you can chew;a green sited on the edge of a promontory and defended not by sand, but by rock outcroppings.”
I don't see even a passing resemblance to the old tenth on the Ailsa, but I do share his enthusiasm for the hole. It's a cape hole on steroids, and the best kind since it favors my draw.
And here the green sits, among the rock outcroppings:
We've seen a strange structure of some kind at the far end of the peninsula, not realizing that it doubles as a tee box:
And yes, that's the thirteenth green below that we've just played.
There are all sorts of folks hanging on the cliffs out here at the end of the Earth:
And when we get to the green we discover they're watching the seals:
We head home in the same manner:
Our last hole is the most terrifying tee shot ever, having little to do with golf. It's a dead straight Par-4 of some 325 yards, playing a little longer because it's straight up the severe slope. They've created the illusion of a dogleg left in how they've cut the fairway, but the terror comes from the walking path just to the left, not even twenty yards from the fairway.
We've seen many the sign in our years of travel instructing players to not hit until walking paths are clear, but traffic here is so heavy that this is impossible. It's a relief to have this behind me, as there seemed little upside and far too much of the other kind....
Our post-round libation was enhanced by watching a juniors competition finish up. This young girl was easily our favorite, as we watched her take egregious liberties with the rules in the putting competition:
The pink plaid skirt matched with green socks is simply fashion genius.
Nefyn is best thought of as a golf playground, as opposed to a serious examination of the game. Such a thing may not work in most situations, but in the midst of the Irish Sea and with just enough imagination to create interesting challenges, it's quite the hoot.
Now, if it were shrouded in fog and chucking rain, a different matter entirely.
Thus ends our journey and this travelogue. We'll shortly be rolling our bags across the way to Manchester Airport and beginning our journey home. I hope you're enjoyed the ride, and we'll be back to our regularly-scheduled programming when next we visit.
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