The drama of Dooks

So, Friday morning, and Charlie and I were set to play Dooks. It’s not often you’re lucky enough to play the likes of Waterville and Dooks on consecutive days. Much has been said about the new changes at Dooks, so I was fuming when I woke up to rain. All through breakfast we were looking out at the dark skies. On the drive to Dooks we were looking at the dark skies, and just before we got to the club the clouds disappeared and the sun got its act together. It must have been 16 degrees when we teed off at 9am. [Photo: Views from the 2nd green]


I have never played Dooks before but Dave Kirby, a Greystones golfer, is a member down here and waxes lyrical about the place. In its new form it is absolutely stunning and I can see why. A links course that is so different to Waterville and yet every bit as good. Perhaps better in some ways: it needs a more tactical approach that’s for sure. And the scenery is breath-taking. I mean it. You have to stop and pinch yourself just to believe it’s real. Macgillycuddy Reeks, Dingle Bay and the Dingle peninsula, the hills of Glenbeigh… Closer to the course are the usual wildlife characters: hares and rabbits, and it was great to see orchids growing in the rough along the fairways – it says something for the type of fertilisers the club must use. [Photo: An out of focus Common Spotted Orchid]

There’s the Caragh River (pictured below) which you will cross before you turn down to the club. It is also visible from the 2nd and 4th tee boxes where it exits into the bay. It is very good for salmon fishing I’m told and it’s not hard to see why. Standing on any of the holes at Dooks you can see why Kerry is called The Kingdom.

The golf was good, bad and indifferent. Charlie is a 16 handicapper and hasn’t played in almost a year, so when he birdied 17 and 18 (Index 4 and 6) I got the impression he was likely to play a little more frequently!

10 Years To The Day

After the very, very wet day on Wednesday, when it rained non-stop from 3am to 6pm, I elected not to play golf – no surprises there. I met Jim O’Brien, the General Manager, and we had a long conversation about golf and all the rest. My favourite part was when he said he’d been a member of 17 golf clubs in Ireland. And then to make the day even worse, he mentioned he was off to Cardiff for the Heineken Cup final. So I spent the evening in the Waterville Lakeside Hotel drowning my sorrows, only to flee when I discovered it was the night of the Manchester vs. Chelsea game. Football doesn’t do it for me!

Thursday morning, May 22, was beautiful, so I was on the 1st at Skellig Bay by 7am, as I was due at Waterville at 1pm. The course sits on a clifftop (13, 14 and 15 are right on it) with superb views – although even better was to come at Waterville and Dooks – and one of the most unique features on an Irish golf course, or any course for that matter: dry stone walls. [Photo: par three 16th and other holes behind]


When you travel deep into the Irish countryside you will see miles and miles of these beautiful walls, and you wonder how long it took to build them. You see them climbing mountainsides in perfect straight lines and you ask yourself how they got the stone up there. And now, in the 21st Century, they’re being used (and rebuilt in some cases) to define golf holes at Skellig Bay. It’s a remarkable sight and this brand new course has all the touches you’d want from a modern course – as well as a few ‘American’ ones [Photo: Dolmen between holes 2 and 3].

There is no clubhouse, but the hotel has a golf shop and locker rooms downstairs, and golfers get good deals on accommodation.

Waterville came next, and as I waited for my best mate, Charlie, I realised that the last time I had been there was almost exactly 10 years before, on my honeymoon. Fiona and I had spent the week at Parcnasilla (the new version is opening at the end of May after massive refurbishment and a bloody great housing development) and Charlie was living and working in Killarney so we agreed to meet up at Waterville. Fiona was being her patient self as we went into the clubhouse and discovered that the green fee was IR £50. We thought that was a fortune and returned to Parcnasilla to play their pretty 9 hole course instead. 50 quid seemed like a rip-off, but these days it’s €180! It’s owned by some American consortium and went through considerable design changes a few years back, and, a bit like the Old Head and Doonbeg, it is aimed at Americans with dosh. Perhaps that will be changing in the near future.

And today it is a magnificent creation. Right from the 1st tee, after you’ve passed the statue of Payne Stewart, you are struck by how beautiful the course is. And it just gets better and better. Charlie and I were stunned by how amazing it looked and by how thrilling it was to play. [Photo: Par 5, 'Tranquility', looking back from the green]

I’ve known Charlie all my life, and when we were about 12 or 13 we ended up playing golf at O’Mahony’s Point (Killarney). On 18 we decided to hit a drive, simultaneously, into the lake. And since then it has become a bit of a tradition. Tralee, The European, The Island, Woodbrook, even Machrihanish in Scotland. So Waterville was next on our list. Standing on the 3rd tee, overlooking the River Inny estuary, we teed up a couple of old balls and counted to three. Embarrassingly, and for the first time I might add, neither of us found the water. One hit the rocks; the other found a field. We moved on, quickly. [Photo: view from the 13th tee]

After the game we drove back to Killarney where Charlie was staying, and got ready for a boys’ night out in the town. But Charlie had spent 6 hours driving from Wicklow to Waterville, and I had been up early to play Skellig Bay, and by 9.30 we were practically asleep in Chapter 40 – a new restaurant in Killarney. I was asleep in my camper van by 10pm and never heard the rain.

Round Robin - Kenmare and Ring of Kerry

I didn’t manage to get up a blog yesterday after my rounds at Kenmare and Ring of Kerry. My morning round took slightly longer that expected as I hooked up with three elderly gentlemen on the 3rd tee: Steve, Peter and Tom (an Irishman, an Englishman and an American – who was embarrassed to be American, thanks to George W). It was a bit slow (four and a half hours), but very enjoyable although it was a shame that the tide was out as the estuary to Kemare Bay was one puddle of mud – and it didn’t smell too good! Balls were being lost frequently, and my own tally was: one lost, 10 found.
[Photo: Tom plays out of the bunker on the par five 4th. Caha Mountains behind]

After that I raced off – OK, the camper van doesn’t ‘race’ but I got the old girl up to 80kph – to Ring of Kerry and went straight out. Again it took longer than expected as a job for one of my clients ran into trouble and I spent 30 minutes on the excellent par three 13th (see pic) trying to sort it out. I had a 5, which I put down to frustration – although that doesn’t excuse an 8 on the 6th (two balls OB), leading to a 13 over total.

From there it was a very long drive to Waterville. It’s not a long way, it’s just the roads are abominable and the camper van was likely to take flight if I went over 40kph. This is the Ring of Kerry! I have no idea how the big buses manage it – it is truly lethal.

When I left Bantry on Monday morning I had a free day. I’d got ahead of my schedule as I wanted to play the Scratch Cup at Bantry Bay, so I drove down to Garnish Island and then up over Healy’s Pass, where I left Cork (see pic) and entered Kerry. I pulled into Kenmare town in the afternoon and went to Jam, a superb coffee shop on the main street with little alcoves and great character. And fabulous food.

A bit later, I was in the Kenmare Golf Club clubhouse that has some intriguing history of its own: it was an old Indian hunting lodge and was brought back to Ireland by Lord Lansdowne. Nowadays it has new residents – one being a little robin. I was sitting on a sofa while an English guy waited to be served at the bar. The robin flew in, hopped past my feet and then flew up onto the Heineken tap, just a couple of feet away from the man at the bar. At this point, the English guy asked for a pint, but the bird flew off into the back. He turned to me and, completely straight faced, said:

“Birds behind the bar these days.”

My round at the hilly Ring of Kerry brought back memories. It was here, about 8 years ago, that I watched my wife slide sideways down the almost sheer 11th fairway in a buggy, trying to stop its descent by using her foot. Please, no comments about women drivers. It is hilly enough that a buggy helps, but if you drive you won’t get to appreciate the perfect views over Kenmare Bay.

I’m currently in Waterville waiting to play Skellig Bay. Unfortunately it started raining at 3am and it has yet to stop (2pm). I have all day, so I’m hoping for some clear skies soon.

Scratch at Bantry Bay

Just to keep things ticking over with my handicap I enter competitions from time to time, and a Junior Scratch at Bantry Bay was too good to miss. The location is stunning, and even if your golf is rubbish you get the chance to revel in the scenery. Bantry Bay is beautiful, ensconced in a ring of mountains, looking over glorious stretches of water. Perhaps the distractions were the reason my golf was rubbish. I played with Ronan Nagle, who didn't have much luck either. The meeting turned out to be fortuitous since his dad, Denis, is the Manager at Kilrush Golf Club where I will be in a few weeks, and a member of Ballybunion, and Ronan’s brother is a member at Dromoland Castle. It makes things a lot easier when I try to arrange tee times. He plays off 18 and we had a very relaxed if tiring round. Off the back sticks, Bantry Bay is 6,700 yards and feels an awful lot longer with its blind drives and tumbling hills. As we struggled up to the 9th tee box we talked about Mahon – a really fun Cork City course – and he told me that the current holes 1 and 2, used to be 17 and 18, and they were known as ‘heart attack hill’. If you play there you’ll know why! I felt the same way about Bantry Bay on a number of occasions, but the views tend to sustain you. Walking up to the par three 9th green (see pic) is one of the highlights, as is the 10th tee, where you are met by views across the sea and islands to the Beara Mountains, Sheep's Head and the Mizen Peninsula.

The greens are a little bit crazy, with substantial mounding around them and also holding them at some severe angles. It’s over the top – it doesn’t sit with the location, and I really wasn’t surprised when I found out afterwards that these were Christy O’Connor Jr designs. On what is, essentially, an impressive country course, which obviously has intentions of being something more (and will be in time), the greens are an anomaly. On 14, Ronan was on the front of the green, putted maybe 30 feet up the slope and failed to get over the ridge. His ball ended up at the bottom again. He four putted. But he had never played there before so it was understandable. The club’s Captain however, playing in the same event, five putted. If that doesn’t indicate how difficult these big greens can be then nothing will.

Skibbereen and Monkstown

I played Skibbereen at 6.30am, before the regular Sunday competition started (all the greens had been cut and they were superb). Not surprisingly there were no other cars in the car park. When I finished at 9.30, the car park was almost full, apart from the left hand side – empty but for one car. It was obvious why: an errant drive off 18 could easily reach. I laughed when I noticed that the lone car had a Dublin number plate – clearly not someone in the know.

A while later in the bar, some of the members were teasing Pat Murphy, who had proved my theory and sent a ball straight through the car park. At this moment in time I have yet to return to my camper van, so I’m hoping there are no new holes. [Photo: the brilliant par four 13th at Skibbereen]

The previous evening, as I approached the clubhouse, I politely asked two ladies standing outside where the locker rooms were. One pointed round the side, telling me that the men’s room was open, but the ladies’ was locked because “they heard you were coming.” I was appalled: usually I have to be in the clubhouse for 20 minutes before I get such a reaction.

Saturday had been a big match day for the ladies, with three teams in action. The two teams from Ceann Sibéal (Dingle) had come a long way, and both had lost. The ladies from Monkstown, decked out in yellow jumpers, and with good support, had won. I was talking to them afterwards, discussing their course and Bandon. I have put up a Bandon blog, but I overlooked Monkstown where, bizarrely, I met my publisher as he came in after a Classic event. Con is not really a golfer so it was very odd to see him there.

I played Monkstown early the following morning (Friday) and played the 18th with two older gents who had caught up with me. They complained about the threeball in front of them, who hadn’t let them through for several holes and only did so when they were asked – or ‘begged’ as one of them put it. As we waited on the 18th, watching two women who had cut-in look for a ball for at least five minutes, oblivious to what was behind, I empathised.

I ended up in the bar with another older gentleman, Derry, talking golf, the demise of Harbour Point and other important things – namely that the best shower at Monkstown is the third on the right! The clubhouse is fantastic with good changing rooms and a big, comfortable bar and restaurant. The course is not as ‘big’, being on the short side, but it is colourful and a lot of fun. And the downhill 3rd hole [Photo: across the 3rd fairway to Cork Harbour] is a nightmare waiting to happen if you haven’t played the course before.

The movie effect – Bandon

You know the story: someone tells you about this brilliant movie. It’s the best thing they’ve ever seen, and they make you promise to go and see it. So you do. And it’s terrible. Terms of Endearment – my parents walked out after 20 minutes; Closer - I wanted to scream. The reverse is also true: someone says a movie is rubbish, so you expect the worse and then you’re pleasantly surprised. OK, sometimes you’re told it’s rubbish and it truly is – Ali G, Shrek the Third – but you get where I’m coming from.

So when I was told that Bandon was rather rubbish I went there with low expectations. You start with some straightforward parkland fayre, but it develops into a far more entertaining affair as the round progresses.

I played with Donal Hannon who has been a member for just a year and plays off 18 - so I was intrigued to see his reverse grip. As we walked down to 5 he mentioned that the Earl of Bandon was kidnapped in the 1920s. When I asked him if that was in 1924, he looked surprised and said he didn’t know. But I cheated. I’d looked at the Presidents’ board the night before and seen that between 1909 and 1924, the President was the 4th Earl of Bandon; between 1925 and 1932 it was 5th Earl. The reason the subject came up became quickly apparent. The rather sadly neglected, but still magnificent, Castle Bernard, overlooks holes 5 to 7 (see pic). The marble that had been around the front door was removed (stolen) some years ago, and trees are growing up inside, but wouldn’t it make a magnificent clubhouse?

And one final observation on Bandon – it’s good to see that some things are taken seriously! A lot of clubs could do with a sign like this by their 1st tee – Greystones included – and I saw the Ranger roaring off in his buggy a couple of times.

The running man of Mahon

It’s 6.30am and a car pulls up next to the camper van at Mahon Golf Club. I hear the unmistakable sound of clubs and trolley. I’m out of bed and eating breakfast, but 6.30am is just a bit mad.

By 7am I am on the 1st tee, somewhat confused. With the dew I can clearly see the tracks of the mystery man – only there appears to be more than one, with two or three sets of footprints heading off in different directions. As I continue to follow these odd trails, I finally encounter the other golfer as I play the 6th hole, overlooking the estuary. [Photo: Par three 4th, overlooking Lough Mahon at low tide]

“Beautiful day,” he calls out as goes up the 7th. The man is running and he’s left his bag behind on the tee. I’m about to point out the obvious, but think better of it. The man reaches his drive, looks at it, turns and then runs back for his trolley. He continues running, pulling the trolley to the ball, hitting his second shot and then repeating the process, running up and then back. I’m dumbfounded. Later, I ask Peter in the shop about this. He laughs and tells me that this is John Horgan, who is 67 years old. I know they’re talking about bringing in some new kind of faster golf competitions – Power Golf – but this is mental.

Mahon was a piece of magic. You don’t expect a course this good that’s ‘Municipal’. The tee box for 5 and 11 sits out in the estuary and requires you to drive over it. 11 is a big drive with a long carry over water. I hit a bad one, and watched my ball hit the rocks on the far side. There was no splash because it was low tide, and as I rounded the estuary there were dozens and dozens of balls lying on the mud, tantalisingly out of reach. Except one. Having lost one I thought I’d replace it. I ventured down over the slippery rocks and stepped onto the mud. Bad idea. I began to sink, but I’d come this far so I was determined to claim my ball. As I sank lower I scooped up the ball with a three iron and beat a retreat before the mud oozed over the top of my shoe. And what a find: a brand new Titleist emblazoned with Ballybunion Golf Club. Clearly Mahon attracts the higher end of the market!

And after all that, I found my own ball further up the fairway.

There’s one other touch that I particularly enjoyed at Mahon: the walk under Cork’s South Ring Road, which you take to reach 15 and 16, again along the estuary, before returning the same way. It was about 8.30am when I headed through the tunnel, and the traffic was at a standstill overhead. They’re all on their way to work and I’m playing golf. How great is that! [Photo: Par four 15th with excellent views of stationary traffic]

I was at nearby Douglas in the afternoon – if you’re going from one to the other, Peter, at Mahon, gives excellent directions – and I encountered four English gentlemen on the 12th. I encountered them again in the bar and we got to talking. When they found out what I was doing, one of them said: “You can put in your book that you met four Brits on the 12th hole and they were playing absolute crap!” So here it is.

Later in the round I caught up to three threeballs, also English, who were on a quick tour – playing Harbour Point (in excellent condition apparently, despite next May’s looming closure), Cork (a bit too tough for some of them) and Lee Valley, which picked them all up from the airport, at no charge, and had them playing for €35 a head. Now that’s a pretty sweet deal, isn’t it! Good on Lee Valley for devising that marketing ploy, and keep them coming. [Photo: Par four 17th at Douglas. This English guy has just hit his drive about 350 yards]

Contrasts at Cork

“So what do you think of Fota Island?”
“Grand,” Aidan replied.
“Grand? Is that it?”
“Well, it’s a bit easy.”

Such precociousness from one so young. Aidan is 16… 17 next week he informed me hastily. Funny how the young can’t wait to get older, while the rest of us pine to be that age again. Maybe it’s the lack of hair.

But his point is well made. We were standing on the 17th tee at Cork, and having played some of the most stunning and decidedly difficult holes that I’d encountered for some time, I knew what he was getting at. Fota Island is beautiful and luxurious, but it can play easy, it will let you away with mistakes and it eggs you on. Cork on the other hand, can destroy you on any number of holes (4 to 9 most notably), but you’ll be thrilled whatever way it turns out. [Photo: view back over the quarry to the 8th tee box]

I hooked up with Aidan on 16 when he caught up with me. The round was almost 4 hours long - an eternity for me – as I was stuck behind a long queue of three and fourballs, and it made sense to play together. He plays off 11 and wellies the ball when he can, yet has a delicate touch around the green. Flings his bag around his shoulders like it's a feather.

Looks like I’ll be putting in a word for him at the Old Head, where he’d like to be a caddy for the summer. You can certainly make money down there, and Americans tip generously I believe. I was telling him the tales I’d heard when Michael, a Yank, caddied for me back in October. He’s unlikely to be caddying for anyone lower than his own handicap, that’s for sure.

Not only is it a brilliant (if variable) course, there are a couple of entertaining moments along the way: on 4 you drive over a beach, and the flotsam and jetsam is always amusing to pick out: a beer keg and a tyre on this occasion; on 5 you actually drive over an old kiln (see pics - the drive is at the small white dot you can see behind the kiln. The green is far right, out bon the little peninsula), while on 11, a lone chestnut tree on the left is worth a little detour (see pic). You have to confess, these sorts of things really add a different dimension to a round of golf. And then there’s the whole lime quarry thing going on. You won’t find many courses with that, will you!