Unrecognisable….literally just back from 3 days in glorious sunshine at Deal and Princes……though on previous visits I have also experienced the kind of ‘weather’ you so vividly describe!
Lovely story. I am reminded of my trip across the pond in '91 with a pro and another of his students. Our last day of a 9 day excursion (16 rounds and two ferry rides in all) was to be at Southerness. We awoke to a downpour with winds howling. Our round wasn't scheduled to start until 10 because of a competition at the club. Our 3rd bailed, staying at the B&B to drink tea with our host. Mike and I arrived to find a parking lot with only 3 cars. The four gentlemen in the parking lot looked at us as if we were mad. "You lads aren't really thinking about going out there are you?" I looked at Mike, then the guys in the pro shop, and said "we didn't fly all the way over here to lay up."
Mike's umbrella lasted a hole and a half. The wind and rain didn't let up for the entire time we played. There was so much water on the course that the cups were filled with water, but as a true links the ground game continued to play hard and fast. Going back into the wind felt like getting pelted with bbs, but downwind we hit it as far as Bryson.
As we finished, there was only one car left in the lot. Two windblown, soggy, Americans wandered into the clubhouse (not realizing that the manager and his wife lived on the premises and didn't have a car). We didn't see the buzzer at the bar to notify the manager we needed a libation. Instead, we took all of the British money left in our pockets on the bar (I'm sure it covered our beers 10fold), and I went behind to pour, only to have an elderly woman walk in, stunned at our cheekiness, stating "oh, oh, you cannot go behind the bar. . . " and then run out of the room. Her husband, who must've been 7' tall, immediately entered, ready to eject these American louts -- until he saw the pile of coins we'd left on the bar. He watched us finish our beers in silence, and we left, tails between our legs. . . after an epic day at Southerness
Unrecognisable….literally just back from 3 days in glorious sunshine at Deal and Princes……though on previous visits I have also experienced the kind of ‘weather’ you so vividly describe!
Another great one, Richard. You paint the scene so well…love those early morning wake ups and drives to the home course or one further down the road .
Lovely story. I am reminded of my trip across the pond in '91 with a pro and another of his students. Our last day of a 9 day excursion (16 rounds and two ferry rides in all) was to be at Southerness. We awoke to a downpour with winds howling. Our round wasn't scheduled to start until 10 because of a competition at the club. Our 3rd bailed, staying at the B&B to drink tea with our host. Mike and I arrived to find a parking lot with only 3 cars. The four gentlemen in the parking lot looked at us as if we were mad. "You lads aren't really thinking about going out there are you?" I looked at Mike, then the guys in the pro shop, and said "we didn't fly all the way over here to lay up."
Mike's umbrella lasted a hole and a half. The wind and rain didn't let up for the entire time we played. There was so much water on the course that the cups were filled with water, but as a true links the ground game continued to play hard and fast. Going back into the wind felt like getting pelted with bbs, but downwind we hit it as far as Bryson.
As we finished, there was only one car left in the lot. Two windblown, soggy, Americans wandered into the clubhouse (not realizing that the manager and his wife lived on the premises and didn't have a car). We didn't see the buzzer at the bar to notify the manager we needed a libation. Instead, we took all of the British money left in our pockets on the bar (I'm sure it covered our beers 10fold), and I went behind to pour, only to have an elderly woman walk in, stunned at our cheekiness, stating "oh, oh, you cannot go behind the bar. . . " and then run out of the room. Her husband, who must've been 7' tall, immediately entered, ready to eject these American louts -- until he saw the pile of coins we'd left on the bar. He watched us finish our beers in silence, and we left, tails between our legs. . . after an epic day at Southerness
Great piece.The last few holes there are only matched by Carnoustie for degree of difficulty.
Looks like you avoided them!