The Perfect 18th
Most people spend their 18th birthday in a nightclub. Drink some shots, try to look cool, kiss a girl.
I spent mine in Lossiemouth, a town 50 miles east of Inverness, waking up at 5.30am to play my first foursomes match of the day.
The Scottish University Matchplay Championship still takes place here every year in March, an unprecedented 6 day golf marathon consisting of a 72 hole strokeplay event followed by 4 rounds of knock out team match play.
If the circumstances of my birthday garnered some pity, I don’t want it. 12 rounds of windswept golf was my euphoria. The girls in the nightclubs would be just fine without me.
My relationship with Moray Golf Club is therefore a romantic one. 4 successive years of week-long golf competitions with friends in ever fluctuating conditions (it snowed one year and we had a BBQ the next) marks a period of life free from responsibility. Golden dunes that muffle the sound of crashing waves always offer a feeling of nostalgic calm, but none more so than here.
There are two courses at Moray. The shorter, New Course, home to bone-shudderingly narrow fairways, offers birdie opportunities if you can avoid the gorse. I’m here to play the Old: in my opinion, the most underrated in Scotland.
Donald Ross said that the first hole of any course should be a gentle handshake, which makes this place a stand up gentleman: a 320 yard par 4 emerges through 2 towering mounds towards a large, gently undulating green.
From here, each hole adds a new ingredient of complexity until you enter the gauntlet that flows between 5 and 8. Monstrous par 4s stretch along the fenceline of the RAF Airbase to the south of the course, where bright orange wind funnels indicate the direction of the crisp breeze. Balls struck at inopportune moments have been known to be repelled by displaced air from incoming jets, sending a towering 6 iron back to your feet. I’ll need to check the rule book on that one.
The sequence of tension and release is perfectly executed: the natural ebb and flow of your game is harmonised with the course. Challenging stretches test your resolve and hope is offered up when you need it most.
But it’s not all subtlety at Moray Old. On the par 3 15th, The North Sea crashes onto the West Beach over the dunes to the left. Marram filled hollows stretch out to an expansive, partially visible green that slopes heavily from front right to back left. Protruding from the fringe on the left side of the green are the landing lights that guide the fighter jets home. Dense grass and heather wrap around their base in an attempt to integrate them into their natural world.
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As I round the dogleg on the par 5 17th the fading light casts my long shadow across the fairway. Towering dunes line the left side of the hole and swoop round the back of the green. The clubhouse appears through the wall of dense gorse on the banking, framing the closing hole.
The 18th is the show stopper. A moss covered stone wall extends from the right hand side of the tee all the way to the green. Houses and hotels loom over its edge, as if jostling for a view of your tee shot. The approach shot forces you uphill into an enormous bowl, where a large two tiered green lies flat at its base. An ancient sun dial located on the slope offers a target line.
As I nudge an 8 iron towards the front edge my mind is cast back to countless dramatic tournament rounds that concluded here. Elation, despair, indifference. All packaged up on a single green that I frequented 10 years ago. Stomach churning moments play out in front of me like a fluttering hologram. Hindsight could belittle their importance, but those hand quivering putts wouldn’t make for such potent memories had they not meant the world to me at the time.
Family and friends would tease at the fact I was spending my seminole birthdays on a weather stricken golf course miles from civilisation. They had a point. But whatever the cost of opting out of the nightclubs then is paying endless dividends now. It is because of that dedication that this place on the North Coast of Scotland has become a treasure trove of vibrant memories and character building moments.
As I tap in on 18, the sun cracks through the clouds, throwing a dense blanket of golden light over the moguls of the opening 2 holes. I sit down on the bench behind the green to take it in. The perfect 18th.
