| TRAVEL: The Irish Eyes Are Smiling |
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Upon the request of many readers over the years, Golf Guides USA is expanding our horizons with trips around the world to find some of the best golf and report back. This is Ireland.
Follow Brett on twitter, @BrettCyrgalis
By BRETT CYRGALIS
Here’s the question you inevitably get when telling people you’ve returned from Ireland: “How was the weather?” Before we even left, I caught a sideways glance from a friend who is a veteran of trips to the Emerald Isle: “Be sure to pack your sunscreen,” he said, laughing. The golf courses are often the main event on trips like these, and this one was no different. We would make the trek from the western shores down south and over to the east, seeing Lahinch, Ballybunion, Waterville and Old Head, before a purely tourist visit to Dublin. All the courses were spectacular in their own different way, as were the attendant cities. And the memories are inexorably linked to the weather under which each was seen. But I am a golfer who embraces the history, and revels in the natural way the game began. If a rain comes, you play through it. If there is no wind, then it’s just a little less interesting and far less enjoyable.
So when my wife and I landed at Shannon Airport for our two-person sojourn in late-July of 2016, we collected our bags, walked through the sliding doors and — you know what? — we were hit with the sweetest air we’ve ever tasted. Compared to the triple-digit slog we left back in New York, the mid-60s with a slight fog was refreshing. As we went to pick up the rental car, a very slight rain began to fall. We were fine with it. When the guy handed me the keys, pointed me in a general direction and said the car was a gray “Skoa” — a brand I had never heard of — well, that’s when we started to get nervous laughter. As I got in the strange right-side driver’s door, I found the ignition and realized it was also a hybrid, often sounding like the motor was off while the car was actually running. I became imminently thankful that I booked it far enough in advance to make sure it was at least an automatic transmission. Later, I would also be imminently thankful that I paid for the GPS device that I mounted on the dashboard. Without that navigating woman with a lilting British accent, we might still be lost in the countryside making friends with sheep.
Instead, as we started the one-hour drive up north to Lahinch, the clouds parted for just a moment and a ray of sunshine quickly popped through. It was clearly going to be a trip that had a little bit of everything. We took a 11 p.m. flight out of JFK, so after six hours in the air and the time difference, we landed in Shannon on the west coast of Ireland around 10 a.m. Despite our best efforts, there was very little sleep had on the airplane, so we were a bit groggy pulling into the quant village of Lahinch. There is a long and deep beach at the center of the town, with a surfing school and shop nearby. Many of the hostels are filled with Irish surfers — if you can believe it.
We snaked our way through the ancient streets to a beautiful hotel called the Moy House. Out on a small peninsula, the building is about 150 years old and looks out into a sprawling backyard with a wide-open view of the ocean. Off to one side is a stream, and there were two horses down there in the rain, necking each other between bites of grass. When we walked inside, it smelled like bread cooking, and cozy was an understatement. There was no golf on this first day, so we headed up to one of Ireland’s main attractions. The Cliffs of Moher are more breathtaking than pictures can describe. The sheer height and steep drop down into the rocky waters below leaves you agape. Then the views of these cliffs for miles on either side makes for a scenery beyond compare. It paints the cliffs of Big Sur in California as miniature.
The rains kept coming in waves, but it was never torrential. An umbrella or some good rain jackets suffice when it started up; no need to stay down under the safety of the visitors center, which did have more than its fair share of interesting exhibits. But the rains hardly lasted for more than 10 minutes before the clouds lifted and the beautiful views were once again presented in full color. A walk up many steps to the foot of O’Brien’s Tower was well worth it, as was the trek down to the South Platform. Unfortunately, we didn’t see any puffins — those cool black birds with the orange beaks — habitants of Goat Island, sitting down in a small inlet below the cliffs.
We went back to Lahinch and had a great dinner at a restaurant overlooking some late-evening surfers in four-foot waves. Another persistent question about Ireland is about the food, and we found it to be more than satisfactory. We enjoyed fresh seafood everywhere we went, and the assortment of local lamb and beef made for some honestly terrific meals. If the weather and food irk some travelers, we immediately found both to be endearing. And the best — the golf — was yet to come.
The Lahinch Golf Club is walking distance from the town’s center, and The Old Course is consistently ranked in the Top 50 courses in the world. (There is also another course owned by the club, the Castle Course, across the street.) It is an unassuming place, with terrifically nice people, which make the preamble to that first tee shot a relaxing affair. But once you get out there, you understand what all the hype is about. I played in a rain that ranged from slight to heavy. It was likely the heaviest downfall we saw the whole time we were there. The winds gusted up to 30 miles per hour, which made the rain sting against my cheeks. With the heaviness in my arms from a lack of sleep, it was hard to swing the club with any efficiency. The greens were true, but were still being nursed back to health after a national amateur tournament the week before had cut them rather low. And none of that made the experience of playing the course any less exhilarating.
At 6,950 yards from the back tees, Lahinch is often considered one of the hardest courses in Ireland. It was founded in 1892, then Old Tom Morris came from St. Andrews in Scotland to redesign it in 1894, and George Gibson from Westward Ho! did a “modernization” in 1907. But the real bones of the course was laid out in 1927 by none other than Alister MacKenzie, famed designer of Augusta National, Cypress Point and many other great courses around the world. In 2003, a restoration of MacKenzie’s layout was completed, and the results are spectacular. Yet the front nine and the back nine still have two distinctly different characters. The front is defined by two consecutive holes originally designed by Old Tom. The fourth is a 475-yard par-5 that has a tee box with the ocean lapping at your back, and it looks out to the narrowest fairway imaginable, framed by fescue-laden hills. And it ends with a blind shot over a large mound, maybe 20 feet high, almost identical to “The Alps” hole at Prestwick, in Scotland — another Old Tom design — with a white rock at the top used as an aiming point. Over the mound is some fairway before the green, making for a welcome reception into a rather flat putting surface.
It is followed by the fifth, a wild par-3 that is completely blind, similiar in nature to “The Himalayas” hole at Prestwick, only a lot shorter at 154 yards. It plays to a newly redesigned — and somewhat out-of-character — hourglass green that is so narrow it can make for some very difficult (if not physically impossible) putts. The rest of the front weaves in and out of the mounds, with constant ocean views. The sixth might be one of the best holes in the world, a 424-yard par-4 that doglegs left, over a deep ravine with a bunker at its base, to a green that is backdropped by the water. The seventh is equally as nice, with a green perched out over the beach to the left.
The back nine then pulls away from the ocean and down into somewhat flatter land. It is defined by a string of difficult and long par-4s, with the par-5 12th as the highlight, hugging an expansive beach for a tidal river all down the left side. The final hole is a 534-yard par-5 that plays over the tee box of the fifth for one last touch of quirkiness. The final green is framed by a background of the stout clubhouse and a handful of flagpoles, and it’s almost a troubling sight. It means the round is coming to a close, and you’ll have to wait to come back.
Where to stay when playing Ballybunion is a matter of circumstance. If you’re golfing, eating and flopping, somewhere near the town should work. If you want some surrounding culture, then head down to the bustling city of Killarney, about 45 minutes south.
The drive from Lahinch to Killarney was . . . interesting, as most of the drives were. It’s not so much the steering wheel being on the right side, or driving on the left side of the road. It’s that the roads are unbelievably narrow, and winding. Often, there is about two inches of clearance between sideview mirrors as you pass another car — forget a truck — and the sides of most country roads are straight-lined bushes, cut from how often you’ll clip them to avoid a head-on collision. There are countless white-knuckle moments if you decide to drive, so get all the insurance the rental car company offers. In that context, the drive from Lahinch to Killarney was almost enjoyable. We drove the car onto a ferry at Killimer and it dropped us of at Tarbert, about a half-hour ride across an inlet that took us from County Clare to County Kerry. It cut the trip in mileage, but was likely the same in time if you stayed on land and drove around. Kerry is known for it’s wonderfully lush landscape, and the craggy peninsulas that line the western shore. It’s biggest city is Killarney, which sits at the eastern side of the famous “Ring of Kerry,” which is about a five-hour circular drive around some of the most scenic parts of all of Ireland. The double-decker tour buses run in and out of Killarney, and there is no embarrassment to shoulder the camera and spend the day seeing the sights. We stayed at one of the most historic hotels in the city, The Malton, located a block from the train station right in the center of town. The elegance of the property dates back to 1854, when it was known as The Railway Hotel, and then eventually the Great Southern Hotel Killarney. The staff is led by general manager and fifth-generation hotelier Brian Scally, who could not have been nicer in his greeting and accommodations. To fully experience the luxury of The Malton, stay in the suite where Jackie Onassis Kennedy and young John stayed on vacation soon after JFK was assigned in 1963. The city itself is bustling with life. There are pubs aplenty, along with many shopping options. Make sure to stop in a wool store and pick up a sweater. Not that I needed one when I left for Ballybunion the next morning.
There are days like this Ireland, when the sun shines in abundance and the clouds seem to part in just the right places. I was graced with one of those days when I stepped to the first tee at Ballybunion’s Old Course. Right there on the cover of the course guide is a quote from Tom Watson, the five-time Open Champion: “Ballybunion is a course on which many golf architects should live and play before they build a golf course.”
Of course, Watson was at the helm during a major renovation of the links in 1995, but that was as much a labor of love than anything else. The strategy inherent in the routing, through the dunes and along the beach, makes for that perfect mix of challenge and beauty. It starts with a downhill tee shot, and out of bounds on the right — which is an ancient cemetery. The second is a long par-4 that plays up a steep hill framed by two small mountains. The fourth and fifth are both par-5s that play over the previous hole's green, but then the sixth is a relatively short par-4 that doglegs left when you make your way to the water. From there, the course really picks up pace.
The seventh is a 421-yard par-4 that plays with the beach running down the right side, and then after a quick detour inland — which includes the terrific ninth hole, a par-4 that Sergio Garcia once made a 10 on — you step to the elevated tee of 11th. This is the hole that Watson called “the best par-4 in the world,” and he could very well be right. Playing 467 yards from the new back tee, the ocean is all to your right and there is considerable carry over some tall grass to reach the fairway, framed beautifully by dunes on both sides. But the fairway slopes away, at 273 off the tee, 194 yards from the green, there is a drop-off, a patch of rough that leads to a lower fairway. It’s from that plateau that you hopefully hit your second, just a exhilarating shot to a green behind some some staggered mounds that make distance control difficult.
There is hardly any drop in quality as you hit over Kittys River on the par-5 13th, or up the “camels back” on the short par-3 14th, or down the hill on the long par-3 15th. But the boomerang dogleg-left par-5 16th is a sight to behold, a tee shot where you can cut off as much as you want going left, but the fairway gets unbelievable narrow as it winds up a steep hill to the green. The shot up the hill is a beauty, as well, with nothing behind the pin besides the sky. Walking off that green is already a special moment, but standing on the 17th tee is the best view on course. From a highly elevated tee, you’re looking down on another dogleg-left fairway, but one that breaks off for a view of the ocean and the coastline that is breathtaking.
The course ends on a bit of a whimper with the 18th being less than driver off the tee and a second shot over a pseudo “Sahara” bunker to a blind green. But there is little that can take away from what came before it — a no-brainer for one of the best golf courses in the world.
The next day was a long one, and maybe not the most enjoyable for the non-golfer in our group (my wife). We left Killarney early and drove deep into the Ring of Kerry to Waterville Golf Club, a place that was resurrected in 1973 by a wealthy Irish-American named John A. Mulcahy. Along with Irish architect Eddie Hackett and 1948 Masters champion Claude Harmon, they built a new course on some very old land and immediately began garnering praise. We got there and it was raining, with winds howling. It wasn’t the best day to just be a spectating walker, although my wife was not the only one in the group to be doing so. The opening holes are almost humble in their nature, relatively flat with a small river running alongside that empties out into an estuary behind the second green. The third is a dogleg-right par-4 that plays along the estuary, although the fog and rain forced the view to be seen through squinted eyes.
From the back tees, Waterville is wholly modern, reaching 7,378 yards — and playing every inch of it on this day. The heart of the golf course lies inland, and it can be a punishing sequence of long par-4s and long par-3s. Predictably, the best is a short par-5, No. 11, measuring 506 yards and playing to a narrow fairway that breaks off at 289 yards, and then plays up through a very small chute to a green that is awkwardly angled on a diagonal. It’s as easy to make a double-bogey here as it is to make an eagle.
The back nine picks up steam with a stout par-5 at No. 13, but what makes it such a memorable place is the closing three holes. No. 16 is a sweeping 386-yard par-4 with a semi-blind, uphill tee shot. When you crest the hill, the estuary opens out into the ocean all along the right, and the views are spectacular and you try to navigate a difficult second into a small green surrounded by humps and dells. The 17th is a 194-yard par-3 that plays over some broken land, with the sea as the background and a brutally deep grass bunker guarding the front-left portion of the elevated green. The final hole is 594-yard par-5 that plays all along the beach. There are bunkers staggered left and right, making it a tough drive, tough layup, and tough shot into the well-guarded green. But that’s exactly the way you want to finish this stern test — earning every bit of glory (or self-loathing) you might receive.
When we left Waterville, we took off for what would be the most enjoyable stay of our trip, the gorgeous seaside town of Kinsale. For the sake of time, the best route would be back up north to Killarney, and then all the way east to Kinsale, which is on the southern coast of County Cork. Instead, we decided to mostly hug the coastline, getting a small taste of the Ring of Kerry. It took just under four hours before we finally pulled into Kinsale, but when we did, it was well worth it.
The sister town of Newport, Rhode Island, is just what you would expect from an ancient sailing and fishing village. There is a harbor filled with beautiful sail boats, and stucco houses that are painted in bright, pastel colors. This is the type of place that the Irish come to on vacation, and it’s easy to see why. We stayed the first night at the perfect location, a place called Actons Hotel, looking out over the harbor. It was modern and sleek, and it was clear why there were three weddings going on there that weekend. We spent the second night at The Old Bank Townhouse, directly in the center of the bustling town, and it was cozy and warm and put us right in the middle of the action. But Kinsale is best experienced outdoors, and we were lucky enough to have two spectacular days of weather while there. We took a one-hour boat tour of the harbor, which brought us around the remnants of two 17th-century forts, the stonework still a wonder to see as we passed by. We spent many hours walking up and down the narrow and winding cobblestone streets, poking into stores and pubs. I had arguably the best fish-and-chips I’ve ever had at a small storefront restaurant on the water, and it was followed later by some delicious lamb chops at a bistro up the street. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any nicer, I drove the 20 minutes to Old Head Golf Links, and my heart races just thinking about it.
Old Head is not the best golf course in the world, but it is unquestionably the most spectacular place that I have ever played golf. That is a necessary distinction when taking into account the following verbiage for a place that is beyond beautiful. Just south of Kinsale, the land comes into a small narrow, and then out into a bulbous peninsula that is all the property of Old Head. The course is relatively new, built in 1997 over 220 acres that used to be a farm, jutting out into the Atlantic Ocean. It is bordered on all sides by huge cliffs, some as high as 300 feet, and underneath are caves, some that run straight through. At the southern-most point is a lighthouse, in view on about half the holes. The property rolls in some gentle hills, and as could be expected, using all of the cliff-side borders to give a feeling like you’re often about to fall off.
Although the place itself is a marvel of modernity, the land is ancient. The story goes that when they were excavating, getting ready to build the course, they found some monoliths. Now scattered around the course are these dark stones, about seven feet high, that have a hole carved into the middle about one foot in diameter. There is one next to the first tee, when the starter makes you and your playing partners shake hands through the hole — what used to solidify a trade deal, and now solidifies your groups commitment to enjoying the day of golf.
Which is almost impossible not do to. The front nine might be a little less dramatic, but there is no shortage of beauty. The first is a rather simple par-4, but the second already juts out into the ocean, a dogleg left par-4 that would be one of the best-looking holes anywhere — and is immediately eclipsed by the third, one of the four par-3’s on the course that is carved into the cliffside. “Wait,” our caddie said, “the course has hardly begun.” Things get historically interesting on the par-5 10th, which doglegs right around a big mound, and then the green is fronted by an ancient burial ground, surrounded by a short stone fence. It used to be a hazard, and you can still take an unplayable, but you can also chose to go in and hack out your cursed Titleist, if you choose to be so daring. As we were walking back to the 12th tee, the caddie started whistling. “Here we go,” he said. I was unsure what he meant until we crested the hill, walked to the tee, and looked up. It’s hard to think of another place in the world of golf as utterly dramatic as this — nothing but cliffs falling down into water in front of you as the land rises to the fairway, a dogleg-left cape-hole drive with nothing to aim at but a walking path and one of the stone monoliths sitting in the right side of the fairway. One is tempted to say, “Bite off as much as you can chew,” but it’s hard to put such a cliche on a such a magnificent piece of Earth. Once up in the fairway, everything comes to a tight narrow as you go back downhill to approach the green, mounds on the right and cliff on the left leaving little room for error as the skinny putting surface retreats. At this exposed juncture, the wind howls, and the nerves make it hard to hold the club with any proficiency. Enjoy the views on one of the most spectacular holes anywhere.
Some recent rerouting and redesign made the 13th another par-3 carved into the side of the cliff. It’s a very difficult thing to say, but with all four of these par-3’s being about the same length and same personality, it almost feels repetitive. Any one of them would be the best hole on 99-percent of the golf courses in the world. And the temptation to build a hole like this has to be overwhelming. But here, a little more variety could have helped the experience, as the shot becomes a little less exhilarating every time you hit it. The 15th is a really good short par-4, with a semi-blind tee shot down a hill, and after another cliff-carved par-3 at 16, the 17th is a whirling dervish of a par-5, 623 yards from the back that is a double-dogleg with the water all along the right and a green set well below among the rocks. The walk back to the 18th tee is the one last great moment here, as the boxes are cut just underneath the lighthouse. The final hole is a dogleg left cut back over the cliff and up a hill to the modern clubhouse, a terrific way to end what is surely one of the most unique golf experiences anywhere in the world. It’s hard to think that there is anywhere more spectacular to spend a day playing golf than out at Old Head.
After leaving Kinsale, the golf club stayed packed as we journeyed up to Dublin. We decided to leave the rental car in Cork, where we would hop on a train for a three-hour ride into the country’s bustling capital.
But before dropping the car, we made an obligatory tourist stop at Blarney Castle, where, yes, we stretched backward and kissed the famous Blarney Stone, thus giving me the gift of eloquence to write this piece. But really, the grounds of the castle are beautiful, and there is a lot more there than just the stone. There is a section that was believed to be the home of Druids, with some stone ancient stone circles used for who knows what. There are ponds and waterfalls, and some eery stories about the “witch’s stone,” the “witch’s kitchen,” and the “wishing steps.” The train ride from Cork to Dublin was pleasant, very similar to taking an Amtrak, and when we got into Dublin Station, it was easy to grab a cab to our hotel. Pulling into the Shelbourne, we knew we were in for the best lodging experience of the trip. A true five-star experience, this Marriott property is one of a kind. Just off Saint Stephen Green, there is not a better location in the city’s center than here. There is shopping all around, and culture at every turn. By the recommendation of our cab driver, we found a terrific, non-tourist pub down the street, O’Donahues, that had live music set up in the corner at almost all times. With the Guiness factory taking up almost the entire northwest section of town, it is necessary to plop down and enjoy a pint that is as fresh as possible and is as good as beer gets.
There is so much to do and see in Dublin, and we took advantage of the hop-on, hop-off tour bus. It got us up into Phoenix Park, larger than New York’s Central Park, with a full-scale zoo and where the Irish President and the American Ambassador both have residences. We did the tour at the Guiness factory, which was fascinating even for the non-beer lover. We got back near the hotel and went to Trinity College to view the Book of Kells, which was as magnificent as the 40-minute line would have you predict. From the recommendation of the terrifically helpful staff at the Shelbourne, we ate some delicious meals and said our peace to the trip ending with some masterfully crafted drinks at The Horseshoe Bar, the elegant lounge just off the lobby. The fact is that this might have been a trip predicated on golf, but Ireland offers so much more. To experience the country in any sense, you have to leave the links and engage the people, embrace their warmth and openness. Then you can leave knowing that the golf will always be there, and will always be spectacular. But that cross section of comfort and discovery is what makes Ireland unique, and makes it so special.
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