SCOTLAND

As I stood over the putt, my caddie said: “There’s a little bump just before the hole. And, oh, by the way, don’t take too long. I’m wet, my feet hurt and I’m starving.”

Needless to say, this wasn’t a regular caddie with lots of experience. She was (is) my wife.

Also, this wasn’t my annual round at one of the Pinehurst, N.C. courses. Rather, it was at the Machrihanish Golf Club, at the southern end of Scotland’s Kintyre Peninsula.

I’d ended up over that putt, watched by my wife, because I had convinced her it would be rewarding to spend a week in the Argyll and Isles region of the Western Highlands. Why the Argyll and Isles? Partly because the area is so accessible from Glasgow, and my wife had just finished a conference there; partly because of the area’s scenic beauty, and partly because I reckoned it would be a modest-cost trip. Oh, and partly because it just happens to have 30 golf courses.

My intention was to construct an alternative to the high-priced guided tours of the great names in Scottish courses, such as St. Andrews and Troon.

These excursions obviously have a place in a serious golfer’s experiences. But, they are hardly the way ordinary Scots, in their small towns, take their beloved game.

So, instead of an excursion, I wanted to golf the way the locals do: with frugality, easy access and a willingness to fit the game to what the terrain and local resources afford. I picked clubs that were accessible to the public. There would be no expansion clubhouses, no umbrella’d verandas, no constricting golf carts and cart paths. No, it would simply be: walk the round, carry the bag to the ball, pick a club and hit away. Just as the inventors of the game intended.

The focus of our journey would be the Machrihanish Club, near Campbeltown. I had heard about this course during an earlier business trip to Scotland and vowed that I would play there.

Getting to Machrihanish and back in a week meant it was possible to play five or six other courses, several of them modest nine-hole designs that are known to fit imaginatively into their available terrain. Among those are Tarbert Golf Club, Lochgilphead Golf Club, and Inellan Golf Club, near Dunoon. Their pars range in the low 30s, but none are pushovers. In fact, at Lochgilphead Golf Club the course record for 18 holes is only two under its par 64. In this slice of Scotland, modest doesn’t mean easy.

These small village courses have one endearing feature: the honor system. There is no pro shop, no caddiemaster or starter. The visitor is simply directed to place the green fee (usually $7.50-$10.50) in a designated box with a slot in the top.

So, our week-long tour would take us in a 400-mile loop from Glasgow, across the Firth of Clyde to the Island of Arran, thence to the Kintyre Peninsula. Next, a drive north would take us around the top of Loch Fyne, Scotland’s largest lake, and down to Dunoon, on the Cowal Peninsula. Then, our route would go further south to the Isle of Bute, after which we’d close the loop by recrossing the Firth of Clyde back to Glasgow.

I picked up our rental car, an English Rover compact sedan, last August in Glasgow. With our gear loaded, we consulted our map and set out on Route A73 for the ferry terminal at Ardrossan, about 35 miles southwest of Glasgow.

At Ardrossan our boarding of the ferry that makes the hour run to Brodick, on the Island of Arran, was a close call. We’d neglected to make a “booking,” and the waiting area was full of cars whose owners had had more foresight. So, we had to queue in the somewhat forlorn “wait list” line. We got on the one or two spaces to spare. The ferry holds about 80 cars and 800 passengers and has a snack bar and lounge. Beyond us drivers, we observed lots of backpackers and bicyclists on board. Most were fitted with some kind of rainwear. A clue that they knew something we didn’t?

Arran has been described as Scotland in miniature. In an area about 12 miles long and eight miles wide it has all the features of the mainland: mountains, rocky coastlines, valleys and glens, lakes, farms and small villages. It also produces some of the finest wool sweaters in the world, which is why sheep are everywhere: in the fields, alongside the roads. Road-kill natural selection evidently works. The unfenced survivors either grazed or reclined within inches of the road edges, blinking benignly as cars and trucks whizzed by.

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We stayed in Brodick, the largest of several resort villages on the island, with a picturesque bay to the east. Across the bay is a clear view of 2,800-foot Goat Fell, the island’s tallest mountain and frequent destination of climbers. A clear view, that is, when it isn’t raining.

The weather in mid-August proved highly changeable; one minute clear skies, then dark clouds, then a misty rain, then clear again. This variability didn’t seem to trouble the locals, so we decided it wouldn’t trouble us either.

On our first day in Brodick, I set out for the nearby Brodick Golf Club. My wife, who is an avid amateur photographer, explored Brodick Castle, the ancestral home for more than 500 years of the Dukes of Hamilton.

The course turned out to be a medium-interest, somewhat flat bayside layout, wet from lots of rain. An engaging featureis that the first three holes, all par three, are in a field across the road from the clubhouse, completely separated from the rest of the course. These holes crisscross one another, so they can fit into the limited space. Not only that, parts of the fairways serve as a football field. So, golfers sometimes have to make way. I wondered, would my shriek of “fore!” mean anything to a bunch of sweaty soccer players? Luckily, there was no game in progress when I teed off.

The next day, though, the three-par sector was closed and turned over to the annual Brodick Highland Games. Bagpipe competitions, hammer throws, caber tossing, foot races, and tug of wars all proceeded apace. All this competition was limited to the “Arran-born,” with the homey touch that lots of contests were arranged for the children.

Out on the remainder of the course, play sometimes adjusted for elderly dog-walkers, youthful horseback riders, and individuals and families just out for a stroll. At the outset, this struck me as something of a nuisance. It didn’t take long to realize, however, that it really was no big imposition. Golfing life and other leisure activities could coexist, and gentle tolerance for one another’s needs marked a civilized way to spend a Scottish Sunday. Aye. Canny Scots!

Our hotel, the Arran, was in the three-point category (under the Scottish Tourist Board’s four-point rating system). This meant it had most amenities, including an indoor pool.

We had made reservations at hotels and guest houses listed in catalogues prepared by the Scottish Tourist Board, prefering the three-pointers at about $40 per person per night for bed and breakfast. And breakfasts were so substantial that we could skip lunches. As for dinner, at the Arran Hotel, the dining room offered a good three-course dinner with a half-carafe of wine for about $18. With genuinely friendly guests, smiling care by the staff and an enthusiastic proprietor, holding easygoing views about golf and world politics, it didn’t take long to get comfortable. This experience proved to be the norm for the rest of our trip.

The next day, while my wife pursued photo opportunities, I drove across the island to play at a links-type course, the Shiskine Golf and Tennis Club. Here, the terrain was generally left as wind, erosion, animals and other forces had shaped it. Apart from being transfixed by splendid views of Kilbrannan Sound and the Kintyre Peninsula to the west, the golfer confronts lots of uneven lies, wild dunes of unkempt rough and a dazzling array of blind shots. Shiskine’s most unusual feature, though, is that it has only 12 holes, something unheard of in the States. Twelve tough holes were all that could be fitted into the available land. If that meant golfers had to repeat six of the holes to reach the full 18, so be it. The golfing challenge of par 65 was none the less for that.

The insouciance of this unusual layout was paralleled by that of the pro shop attendant. When I inquired the green fee and possible starting time, the ruddy-faced Scotsman said, “Aye. Nae problem. Aught pounds.” Whereupon he put down the glass of whisky he had been sipping, took my money and wrote my name down opposite 10:08 on the starting time sheet. He pointed me toward the first tee, observing that “yer second shot’s oop o’er tha’ tall fairway boonker. Th’ hole’s hid beyont it.” With that, he picked up his glass and resumed sipping.

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Early the next morning we had breakfast and then set out on A841 around the western side of Arran to Lochranza, and a 30-minute ferry ride to the Kintyre Peninsula, whose southern end is about 18 miles from the coast of Northern Ireland. Our destination was seaside Campbeltown, where we were to stay in an elegantly restored manor house owned by two retired teachers.

Getting there, however, involved another aspect of Scottish frugality--the “single track road with passing places,” as the maps quaintly described it. These roads have enough room for only one vehicle, except every so often there’s a wide spot where two can pass. Striped black-and-white poles mark these points. The local driving strategy seemed to be: Get to a wide spot; look ahead; if nothing’s coming, race like the wind to the next pole. It appeared to all work, since we didn’t see any evidence of head-on crashes.

Campbeltown is a resort and fishing village of 6,000. At one time it had 34 whisky distilleries; now there are two. Local lore has it that in the distilleries’ heyday the aroma from them was so strong that sailors could find their way back to port in dense fogs just by the smell. Campbeltown has seven hotels, a large number of bed-and-breakfast houses, and several trailer (caravan) sites. It also has 13 pubs.

My reason for coming to Campbeltown, however, was not to imbibe. It was to play at the Machrihanish Golf Club, located a few miles outside the village. This much-acclaimed course lies alongside Machrihanish Bay. It is flat, treeless, full of mounds and hollows, and left generally in the land’s original contours. But it has been judged the equal of any of the more famous Scottish links courses, including the Old Course at St. Andrews. Legend has it that “Old” Tom Morris, who won the British Open four times between 1861 and 1867, declared that the land on which the course lies “was designed by The Almighty for playing golf.”

I settled my green free of about $20 and went out to what has been described as one of the finest starting holes anywhere. It’s a stalwart 423-yard par four that follows the gentle curve of Machrihanish Bay and is a challenge for the brave. But No. 1 also protects the innocent. Just below it, on the beach, is a sign, simple and direct, like much else in Scotland: “DANGER. 1st Tee Above. Sitters Move Along Beach Clear of Golf Danger Area.”

Since I was alone, I teed up and hit. (My wife would meet me on No. 18.) I could see a few other players at the far reaches of the course, but I felt as if the whole wonderful place was mine alone. Machrihanish confirmed everything I’d heard about it. I played in sunshine, wind, drizzle, and driving rain. The sandy soil quickly drained the downpours. The winds and rain called for every kind of shotmaking: bump-and-runs, low knockdowns, fades and draws. The greens were in excellent shape, but with deep and sweeping undulations that made putting a world-class test. At 6,228 yards the course was not long. The front nine has only one par three; the back nine has three, along with two par fives. But even so, it was all serious golfing work to stay within its par-70 reach. Needless to say, I didn’t. On one hole I teed off into a deluge, sensing I’d hit the ball dead, solid, perfect. I never found it. I blamed my fogged-up glasses.

From Campbeltown, we drove back up A83 on the peninsula’s western coast. Each turn in the highway gave another spectacular view of sea, mountains, and ever-changing clouds and skies.

We stopped overnight in the small town of Tarbert perched between West Tarbert Loch and Loch Fyne. Our hotel, the Columba, was right on Tarbert’s busy harbor and just a short walk from the compact town center. Costs in Tarbert were about the same as in Brodick.

My golfing target was the Tarbert Golf Club, a hilly, tough little nine-hole course. The green fee here was $7.50. I sloshed around in many strokes over the par 33, but despite my sorry score, I was taken with the splendid views from holes that worked up and down and along some quite steep hillsides.

From Tarbert we drove further along the A83 toward the top of Loch Fyne to the resort town of Lochgolphead, where I played another nine-holer, the Lochgilphead Golf Club.

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From Lochgilphead, our route on A83 took us around the top of Loch Fyne, past Inveraray. Here is Inveraray Castle, home of the Duke of Argyll and traditional head of the Campbell Clan, one of the most powerful families for better than 700 years of Scottish history. We then turned south to follow A815 along the eastern shore of Loch Fyne and then Loch Eck to our destination in Dunoon.

I intended to play at the Cowal Golf Club in Dunoon. But heavy rains had closed the course. With Cowal rained out, I substituted Inellan Golf Club, about four miles south.

The final stop on our tour was the resort and fishing village of Rothesay on the Isle of Bute. This entailed one more jaw-clenching drive over the dreaded “single-tracker” to reach the ferry that crosses the Kyles (a narrow inlet) of Bute at Colintrave. The short ride let us out on A886 and, thence, for about 12 miles into the charming town.

Five hundred years ago, Scotland’s ruling dynasty picked Rothesay as a hunting and vacation spot. The partly restored Rothesay Castle testifies to their presence. An active harbor, a conventional tourist strand and well-gardened esplanade serve the frequent day-trippers and conducted-tour vacationers.

My golfing target here was the Rothesay Golf Club, founded in 1892. This course overlooks Rothesay Bay and the Firth of Clyde. Overlooks, that is, once you reclaim your breath after climbing several hundred feet in elevation in order to complete the four-par, 251-yard first hole. From this hilltop are magnificent views of the Cowal Peninsula, Firth of Clyde, Arran, the Cumbrae Islands to the east, and beyond them the Ayrshire Coast. I joined two local club members in my round. They evidently played every day and traveled light: a few, well-worn clubs, small bags and some rain gear. We played each hole in about six minutes, except when I slowed things down with a lost ball and a snapshot on No. 8 tee.

Why No. 8? It was one of the flamboyant American golfer Walter Hagen’s favorites. According to the pro shop attendant, at some time during one of Hagen’s visits to the United Kingdom, he decided to play the course. When he got to No. 8, he assessed the challenge of the severe downhill, 204-yard par three, with little fairway and pronounced slopes from left-to-right feeding off into a similarly-sloped green. He turned to take in the broad scene of water, sky, hills, fields, houses, and then back to the hole and said: “If God gave me one last hole to play, this would be it.”

We ended our week with an early-morning 30-minute ferry ride to Wemyss Bay and then about a 50-mile drive on A78 and M-8 straight to Glasgow Airport. The airport, albeit an international hub, is modest in scale and uncongested.

Our cost for two people for this eight days and about 400 miles of driving? Excluding airfares, lodgings came to $549 for double rooms, bed and breakfast; other meals $168; golf (for me) $88; car rental $454; gas $64; ferry charges $118. Total: $1,441. All costs included the U.K.’s 17% Value Added Tax (VAT), and with a rate of exchange at 1 to $1.50.

Scotland left many marks on us. I saw the other side of Scottish golfing life that I’d wondered about. Beyond that, Scotland’s scenic grandeur and the openness and charm of its people drew us in. My wife remarked on one moment of particular meaning. As she was walking along a back street high above Brodick, she heard a faint bagpipe melody. The sounds came from a band marching to the day’s Highland Games from the ferry pier. Out of sight, but with the colorful vista of Brodick Bay before her, the band’s plaintive tune marked something poignant and touching. In its innocent way, that song encircled the gentle admonition we had seen on a sign beside the road as we were leaving Tarbert: “Haste Ye Back.”

And so we shall.

GUIDEBOOK

A Swing Through Scotland

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Getting there: Glasgow International Airport is the gateway to the Argyll and Isles region of the Western Highlands. From LAX, American Airlines offers daily direct flights to Glasgow, with a stopover in Chicago. Round-trip fare is $548. Connecting service is available on Northwest, United and British Air, all for $538. All major car rental companies have offices at the airport. You can get about a 15% discount off rental rates by prepaying reservations in the United States before departing.

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Where to stay: Arran Hotel, Brodick, Isle of Arran KA27 8AJ; telephone and fax from the United States, 011-44- 0770-302265. Pleasant, bright, 16 rooms facing Brodick Bay. Double, $46 per person; four-course dinner with wine, $20 per person.

Ballegreggan House, Ballegreggan Road, Campbeltown, Argyll PA28 6NN; tel. 011-44-586-552062. Restored manor house just outside town. Double, $30 per person; family-style dinner, $22.50 per person.

Columbia Hotel, East Pier Road, Tarbert, Loch Fyne, Argyll PA29 6UF; tel. 011-44-880-820808. Family-run, 11-room hotel overlooking Loch Fyne. Double, $28 per person; three-course dinner with wine, $31 per person.

Ardtully Hotel, Hunters Quay, Dunoon, Argyll PA23 8HN; tel. 011-44- 369-2478. Nine-room, family-run hotel overlooking Firth of Clyde. Double, $30 per person; three-course dinner with wine, $18 per person.

Ardyne Hotel, 38 Mountstuart Road, Rothesay, Isle of Bute PA20 9EB; tel. 011-44-700-502052, fax 011-44- 700-505129. Ten rooms overlooking Rothesay Bay and Firth of Clyde; excellent seafood restaurants a short walk to town. Double, $30 per person; four-course dinner, $18 per person.

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For more information: The Scottish Tourist Board, 23 Ravelston Terrace, Edinburgh EH4 3EU; tel. 011-44-31- 332-2433. Also contact the British Tourist Authority, 350 S. Figueroa St., Suite 450, Los Angeles 90071, (213) 628-3525.