A Proper Championship course

After a couple of weeks playing The Struie course, the 2nd course at Royal Dornoch, I was treated to 3 consecutive days on the Championship course. We played from the Championship tees under early season tournament conditions. The best way I can think of to describe it would be like going from driving my Volvo station wagon to getting behind the wheel of a Formula I race car. You suddenly realize that you do not have the skill or training to be where you are. Though the length is a stretch, it is not that daunting. It is the shots around the greens that really make me feel inept. Short shots up 6 foot (or more) shaved slopes turned me into a quivering mass of protoplasm. I have never felt more unskilled on a golf course, and this was after a couple of weeks of play and some practice. Putting, which is usually something I can do with some level of skill, was so difficult. Huge greens combined with rolls and pitches resembling waves on the ocean left me totally foxed. In the tournament I posted a pair of 90's, and this is with three consecutive sand saves on the back 9 (I know people who have played with me will find this as hard to believe as I did).

One of the highlights of my trip so far was after the 3rd time getting up and down from a really tough lie in a deep and evil sand pit my playing companion, James, said "Stan, you are a great bunker player." Take that Timmy Pierce and Darin, who know better.

I am reminded of when I went to Hawaii to surf after high school. I was fit and relatively competent in the Southern California waves. I paddled out at a spot called Yokahama Bay on a pretty big day. After watching a couple of waves I realized I was in over my head and meekly paddled in, discretion is the better part of valor. That is how I felt when I meekly turned in my scorecards realizing that I am not very good. Oh well, I'll be back at it this week after a couple of trips to the practice ground.

Cheers

Perils of small town living

They have "bank holidays" over here. I'm none too sure what they are, other than the obvious. I need to investigate. That said, when a bank holiday falls on the Monday after a golf tournament and a motorcycle group visiting the area, the ATMs apparently run out of money. Oh wait, I said ATMs? It's ATM. There's not even a hole in the wall that you find in some towns. This is a wee tidbit we had no idea to prepare for. Yesterday, Sunday, I went to make a withdrawal and the ATM said No Service Available for Withdrawals. What? No money? Surely someone will come and restock the thing for Monday. Nope. It's a bank holiday and that's just what it means. No drama, really, just another adventure on the learning curve for us.

Where things are from

It's been very interesting to me, who finds odd things interesting, to see where things are from. I'm so used to California having such a variety of things right on our doorstep, with the occasional winter tomatoes and grapes from Chile. But I've had oranges from Egypt. Pears from Holland. Grapes from Brazil. Bell peppers from Israel. And those salad greens from the farmers market last weekend? Quite possibly from the side of the road. Who puts horseradish leaves in salad greens?

And then there's the people. Today at the golf course was a group of eight men, and before they opened their mouths I was quite sure they were American. Was it their haircuts? Their clothing? Stan already knew who they were and they were, likely West Coast given that the sounded just like us. And then the group of three, not American by the clothes and the hair, and I made a guess of Scandinavian origin. Sure enough, when eavesdropping on them their conversation sounded quite like the Swedish Chef from The Muppets. Made me wonder, do I stick out like a sore thumb? I'm tall for this neck of the woods and I'm sure my jeans and white tennies (trainers) are a dead give away for being an American. And my skin makes it a sure bet I'm from California. The women here, no matter their age, have the loveliest skin on their faces and hands. Not sure I'd trade mine, I've earned every wrinkle, but I can certainly envy and admire theirs. It's just where we came from.

Captain's Away Day

We interrupt our regular programming to bring this special golf update. Ladies can turn away, as Julie is preparing a more interesting entry.

I played in the Captain's Surprise Away Day. A coach was waiting at 7:45 to take 28 golfers to a destination unknown for a Captain vs Vice Captain match. The bus took off heading south, through some "unsettled weather". There are many golf courses within 90 minutes of Dornoch and with each passing turnoff the locals began to narrow the possibilities. It was really nice to ride in the coach and sightsee rather than drive and have someone, who will remain unnamed, reminding me "Stay Left, Stay Left." We turned off and headed east through some beautiful farmland and past some tumbling streams. We passed a wonderful herd of "hieland coos", many pheasants in full plumage and an osprey gliding over one of the streams. We arrived at our destination, Grantown on Spey Gold Club. Great! A course I had never played. We were treated to coffee and bacon rolls on arrival and the teams were chosen. My friend Adrian and I partnered against the local dentist and a retired police officer. We were evenly matched, but Adrian and I meshed well and closed them out on the 16th (helped by a great birdie by me on the 7th. I will spare you the blow by blow descriptions of my golf. I save those for Julie when she needs something to put her to sleep). The course was good and scenic, winding through some woods and burns. It is not Royal Dornoch, but nothing else is. We were the last match in and the rest of the gang were in the throes of cocktail hours. I don't care what their handicaps were on the course, these guys were all scratch players at the 19th hole. We had ample time for a couple of adult beverages and a meal was served. The curry was outstanding. The prize giving began. The Vice-Captains team won despite the efforts of Adrian and I. The winners received an airplane size bottle of Famous Grouse and the losers received an airplane size bottle of Famous Grouse. Great laughs all around. Then there were after dinner drinks before we loaded up for the 90 minute drive home. The coach was much livelier on the way home. Many bottles were consumed and tales told. The coach rolled into Dornoch and the occupants poured out. Most stayed on their feet disembarking the bus, but not all. The party moved to the clubhouse for some more. I had had my fill. The next day I found out that the party lasted till the wee hours of the morning. At the 19th hole these guys are not only scratch players, they are professionals!

Being the Last One Picked for Kickball

I entered my first golf event and played today. I felt like the new kid in town not knowing anyone. That is quite an odd feeling that we have all been through. Meeting new people of completely different background and culture always gives that feeling of unease. One probably never comes to terms with that feeling. But nothing ventured nothing gained.

Last night laying in bed with rain splattering the windows and the wind shaking the windows, I thought this is going to be a terrible day for golf. I awoke to wet streets and the wind blowing a "hoolie". I bundled up and made my way to the golf course. The event was a Greensomes Stableford, a partners event in which we both drive off the tee and then play alternate shots from there. I was paired with Iain Fraser, a retired professor of economics. We played with Neil and Adrian. Everybody was quite nice and welcomed me to the group. We had quite a fun game and a close match in spite of weather that would send sane men indoors. It just goes to show that most of those things that cause us to fret are just our mind playing with us and really not a bother at all if we just get on with it. The wind blew and the snow came just as we finished the 18th hole. We got inside cozy and warm with a wee dram (for medicinal purposes only) and watched it really begin to snow. Turns out Neil and Adrian know friends of mine in California. What a small world. I am always amazed at the contacts made through this silly game.

Oh, Iain and I won the event. Maybe I won't be the last one picked after all.

It's a wee bit chilly!

The smell of coal in the air might just mean we arrived here a bit too soon. That said, had we waited a week we would not be here at all given the mess the volcano in Iceland has created. Blind luck, that was, choosing to fly a week and a half ago rather than a week ago. At first I thought someone had spilled some of what I like to call telephone pole scotch somewhere near the entryway, but then I realized it was the smell of burning coal. And as I sit here looking out the window there's smoke coming out of quite a few chimneys.

The folks in town are so warm and friendly it's more than making up for the high of 46 degrees today. Want something on the dinner menu for lunch? Let me ask the chef, no problem. Need a larger size of something from one of the shops? Came after me as I was leaving to tell me they will happily order it for me. Need to post something on the town bulletin board? Will print up and post a note on it for us for small donation to the charity box. Not a surly attitude in the bunch. Well, there was the delivery man grousing about the lack of a street sign, but he must have been from someplace else.

Am I living in fantasyland? A bit. But I did have to scrub toilets and do laundry over the weekend, so not entirely. And don't even get me started on the laundry!

The comforts of home

Our regular evening at home consisted of Julie working on cross stitch, me working on my crossword and the sounds of Kruk and Kuip and SF Giants. Now you may think this is guy thing, but oh no, Julie is a keen baseball fan. She is a good spectator and it is uncanny the number of times she will make a comment before the announcers say the exact same thing. So it was with some sadness that we would be missing our baseball season. But wait. All is not lost. Technology is a wonderful thing. We signed up for the MLB package. With the purchase of a couple of cables we have our evening entertainment. Kruk and Kuip are such fun to listen to. When they get on a roll they are hilarious. They have cured me of one thing, I will never eat in a stadium again. They always seem to have some jab for the poor guy shoving a hot dog in his face with mustard dripping down his shirt. The poor guy gets his face on TV in front of a huge audience with 2 guys making wisecracks... "Look at that boiler. Hey buddy, could you put anymore relish on that thing. Try and get some in your mouth next time". Then invariably some friend sees it and calls the poor guy on his cell phone. Nope, no more eating at the stadium for me.

Tonight... Kruk, Kuip, Timmy on the hill, A Merle Reagle Crossword (the best from the SF Chron) and my baby. Life is good. All we need is a little Ben and Jerry's.