NEWCASTLE, NORTHERN IRELAND | “When you get to the fourth tee make sure to walk up to the last deck and sit on the bench for a minute. Report back on what you witnessed and how you felt. …”
This came from a stranger, on the other side of the world via social media, on the morning of my most-anticipated round of golf and was a most generous, and shrewd, piece of advice.
Because to take a minute on the fourth tee of Royal County Down’s Championship Links is one of the game’s greatest treasures, comparable to walking over the brow of the hill towards Machrihanish’s third fairway or taking the short stroll from Royal Dornoch’s second green to third tee. All of them touched by Old Tom Morris, interestingly.
Sitting there you had the heightened experience that you might be a handful of holes into the best course on the planet – and that you’d certainly just played the best opening three holes anywhere. As someone who’s always making lists in his head, my previous favourite, Royal Lytham & St Annes, had just been volleyed into touch.
“For me growing up, the fourth hole, standing on the championship tee whether you’re heading off the tee or taking a photo of the course, that for me is the best view of the course with the gorse in front of you, and the heather, and the backdrop of the Mountains of Mourne,” said John Murray, who took over the head pro duties last year from the long-standing Kevan Whitson.
“If I could stand and hit one golf shot for the rest of my life on the course, it probably would be from that tee.”
Off the tee, the Championship Links is known for its blind shots, and all you have to go on are the little white stones that serve as marker posts.
But, while it might appear that only a slither of fairway sits beyond, there’s actually plenty of room and generally far more than you will have ever imagined standing on the tee. A common theme of the front nine was our forecaddie’s arm constantly pinging up – there was even a clap for one tee shot – to signal that our balls were safe and visible which, given where some of our tee shots had been sprayed around, says plenty about the generosity of the landing areas.
If you were to write a separate piece on 100 things that make Royal County Down special, the little white stones would be in the top 10. Simple is often good, and a small rock nestled into a rugged hillside is a very cool method to signal your line on a world-class par-4.
Also on the list would be the entrance (an understated arched gateway from the adjacent Slieve Donard hotel), the starter and tucked-away first tee, the eyelashed bunkers, the simplicity of No. 12, the strategy of No. 13, the hospitality and normality of the place, the soup and sandwich combo, and, right up there, the forecaddie.
If you are lucky enough to play Royal County Down, don’t miss out on this. Ours, Matthew Burns, was exceptional. A forecaddie here can paint a picture that a scorecard or course planner can’t necessarily show you. He can also impart knowledge that will add some much-needed trust that what appears in front of your eyes is often not the case – prompting you to take an altogether different line.
Not only do you have yourselves a ball spotter, green reader and expert clubber, you can also add historian, storyteller, and friendly and fascinating face of the club. The fact that he’d once been round the course in 65 shots added a layer of confidence and authenticity to everything.
Part of my day was spent trying to determine where the course reminded me of and, in truth, I couldn’t settle on anywhere. By the time I had seen my ball fall off what looked like the middle of the seventh green and wandered open-mouthed down the ninth, I had given up.
That’s the beauty of it. It works its way through sand dunes, stretching out to the Murlough National Nature Reserve and heading back towards the Mourne Mountains with the sea on your left and the town in front of you. It’s unique. “It’s quite raw but it’s beautifully manicured,” said Murray.
Former Amateur champion and Walker Cup captain and player Garth McGimpsey used to say that Royal Portrush is a driver’s course whereas County Down is an approach-shot course, and all the advice, from the man at the practice ground to the starter and now the caddie, was to play the yardage to the front of the greens. Do that and you’ll score OK. But if you find yourself halfway up or off either side of the greens, you’ll likely have plenty of loft in your hand for your next shot – or the opportunity to miss the green with your putter.
The strong probability is that Royal County Down is the best golf course you’ll ever play, a thought that dominated the 14 hours I spent on the property. The best piece of pre-trip advice was to play the club’s Annesley Links. It is a ridiculously good, if smaller and tighter, version of the main course at 4,500 yards, and somewhere Murray and other juniors played before graduating to the Championship Links.
“People talk about it as being one of the best short courses in the world and it’s just a wonderful test,” Murray said. “It turns you into a fantastic iron and wedge player because you can’t afford to stray off line, and the greens are so small with huge runoffs. It just makes you a complete golfer.”
It took me 46 years of playing the game to get to Royal County Down and, if that’s it, then I’m certainly a richer person for the visit. Then again, it remains on top of my bucket list of venues to play.
“The first impression is just wow and, the more you play it, it just gets better and better and better,” said Murray. “There are no two days the same. The first time you play you’re taking the advice of your caddie and he’s trying to explain what’s over the other side of the hill and some of our blind or semi-blind shots. When you return, you have that picture, you know what’s there and you’ve got a little bit more control to maybe let go a little bit. That’s a true golf course, the fact that each and every time you play it, it’s different but it also gets better.”
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