The thing about an Ireland trip is that if you are obsessed with getting to certain courses, and I am, then you have to be prepared to spend a certain amount of time in a car.
I’m comfortable with that, but you might not be. And that’s why the itinerary for this epic dash around the top half of Ireland must come with a warning.
This was such an ambitious, nay foolhardy, expedition that I am going to stop referring to it as a trip and upgrade it to the status of ‘tilt’. I can’t even pin my tilt down to a region. I can only tell you that it started and ended in Belfast, involved several crossings of the Irish border and that the majority of golf, with some significant exceptions, was played within sight of the Atlantic Ocean.
I doubt there are many of you out there who would have taken this one on.
I trust the rest of you will pick out the elements that most appeal and perhaps break my tilt back into the two or three trips that it really comprises.
For me though, the mis- sion was simple. I would arrive in Belfast one Friday morning and depart the following Friday evening. I had a car, I had my clubs and I was more than willing to travel to get to a selection of distant playgrounds.
I wanted to return to Donegal and re-visit a few places I hadn’t seen in years. And there was a 9-holer I’d heard great things about that wasn’t near anywhere.
Dropping down into Sligo, I reckoned I could look at the recent improvements at Rosses Point and pop inland to Lough Erne, which I’d only once previously visited, shortly after its opening.
There was a new nine at Carne, on the western Mayo coast. And then there was Connemara, in Co Galway, which had up to now con- founded me – it was really the only links in Ireland that I hadn’t played.
The reason was that it simply didn’t t on to any itinerary I’ve ever devised. It’s way north of Lahinch and Trump Ireland (Doonbeg to you and me) and when you’re in the north-west you tend to get no further than Ennis- crone, or Carne if you’re really going for it.
Finally, I felt contractually obliged to arrange a game at Royal County Down on account of it being the best course I have ever played and within spitting distance of Belfast airport.
So there you had it – the trip was to follow a roughly anti-clockwise sweep around Donegal, Sligo, Mayo and Galway, starting and finishing at Belfast. Via Fermanagh. And Down.
Ballyliffin
The first task upon clearing City airport and the tedious beginning–of-trip admin was to get ourselves to Ballyliffin, which involves negotiating Londonderry and then pointing due north.
We began our tilt on the Old course, which isn’t that old. It dates back to the 1970s, when Eddie Hackett, Charles Lawrie and Frank Pennink were responsible for transforming the existing 9-holer of modest reputation.
However, it wasn’t until Nick Faldo came here in the early 1990s and enjoyed himself so much that he asked to come back with his architect’s hat on that anyone paid much attention.
Their combined efforts have created a wonderfully simple and enjoyable course. If there is a criticism, you could say that there are too many mid-length dogleg par 4s in the middle of the round but individually they are all decent holes and that’s good enough for me. I love the finish, which combines a couple of scoreable par 5s with two of the hardest par 4s on the course.
I’d happily play here on a regular basis.
Glashedy Links
One dash into and out of the clubhouse later and we were striding down the opening fairway on Pat Ruddy and Tom Craddock’s Glashedy Links with some suitably bulging foil packages.
Considering the two courses weave in and out of the same piece of land for the most part, it is surprising how different they feel.
he Glashedy is approach- ing its 25th birthday but is every inch a modern course.
As is Ruddy’s wont, pars, let alone birdies, must be hard-earned. And if the Old is without pretension, the Glashedy has a number of flourishes.
Most, if not all, hit the spot. The 2nd is an outstanding par 4, hugging the course boundary, while the 3rd has
a real sense of grandeur. The Glashedy gleefully ploughs into and through the larger dunes at the far end of the property, making for some dramatic elevation changes.
For my taste, the short 7th, where the pond-side green sits miles below the dune-top tee, has no place on a top-class seaside course but others would doubtless disagree.
There is a rarely a dull moment here, and there are multiple occasions where it really hits the (metaphorical) heights. For example, the middle of the second nine takes you back into the dunes before a closing stretch that runs parallel to the sea with Ballyliffin’s answer to Ailsa
Craig in close attendance. And like the Old, it finishes with a real flourish.
It was clear from our day here that Ballyliffin is thriving, and the conditioning across both courses was impressive. All power to its elbow.
Sandy Hills
The longest of days was still not over though we faced a drive back to Londonderry and on to the neighbouring Inishowen Peninsula, where Rosapenna is found. It’s easy to group Rosapenna and Ballyliffin together, given they are both in Donegal with two courses of links action apiece.
Easy but a mistake. Where Ballyliffin is a members’ club, Rosapenna has a hotel and so feels more like a resort.
There’s always something new happening at Rosapenna but the star attraction is the Sandy Hills course. It is a bear of a Ruddy design amid a quite exceptional landscape of woolly dunes, the fairways sliding between the gaps like water owing towards the sea.
Like at Old Head, at the diametrically opposite end of Ireland, they see some wild weather here over the winter and that means the course is constantly changing with the shifting sands. It must be said that conditioning was an issue in places.
At its best, the Sandy Hills can compete with just about anywhere in Ireland, or beyond for that matter. For example, when you catch a view of Sheephaven Bay from the crest of the hill on the 6th, with Muckish Mountain as a backdrop.
Old Tom Morris course
What was a revelation, as I had not played here for several years, was the re-vamped Old Tom Morris course. I’d very much enjoyed what was then the front nine on the at land nearest the beach but the second half did not meet to the same standards.
Now, though, all 18 holes are true links and there is barely a weak moment.
What Rosapenna do with St Patrick’s Links, an amazing piece of adjacent land they now own that Jack Nicklaus was once going to turn into something special, remains to be seen. I just hope they choose wisely and stick with the decision.
Regrettably, after a couple of pints of Guinness, a good meal in the hotel’s restaurant and a restorative sleep it was time to leave Rosapenna.
Within an hour though we were in our element at Port- salon, one of the country’s most modest and under- rated links.
Make no mistake, it be- longs on your Donegal itinerary. The show-stopper here is the 2nd, where you drive over and across the sensational beach to the fairway beyond. It’s a world-class hole, but far from the only one.
There are double greens, dunes, winding fairways, mountains and sea views throughout. The inward nine, it’s true, is a little further inland and hinting towards parkland in places but there’s more than enough to make you want to do it all again even if the last hole, uphill all the way, has sapped your strength.
Paul McGinley used to come here on his child- hood holidays and he is currently acting as an advisor on course improvements.
Port- salon is the kind of club that belongs to the town and lives within its means, and so the first thing he told them was that they should fill in several bunkers that were not in play for the better player but expensive and time-consuming to maintain.
It’s entirely sensible, and means they can concentrate their efforts on the things that matter most, like the outstanding greens we putted on.
Cruit
Now it was time for some- thing completely different – a journey to Cruit (pronounced ‘Critch’) Island. This 9-holer finds itself in the north- western extremity of Donegal and therefore Ireland. I can’t really tell you where it is – but we did go past Glenveagh National Park on our way.
What I can tell you is that you must come and have a game here. Forget the logistics and trust me when I say that it will make you happy.
Yes, we were lucky enough to play on a gorgeous early summer evening but I’d enjoy it here in just about any conditions.
With water on all sides, it’s a visual treat. And the small but perfectly formed club- house is a delight. But more than that, the holes here are very, very good. Outrageous in places, yes. Baffling on first acquaintance, yes. But that’s OK because you get to have another go on your second nine, which I enjoyed even more than the first.
No one knows who de- signed the course, and yet all the holes work while being rich in character. The par 4s are generally short but well defended with tiny greens. In total, the nine holes add up to a shade over 2,500 yards.
On the 3rd you play down towards the ocean and pitch down to the green. I loved the 5th, which is within range from the tee. Miss it on the wrong side though and you are snookered.
Then there is the show-stopping 6th – played from one edge to another over the rocks. It’s only a short iron on a calm
day but it really could call for any club in the bag.
The next hole involves a blind pitch – surely one of the hardest shots in golf – to a bowl green while the 9th is another tempter: do you smash a drive over the corner of the hill or lay up to the angle and wedge in. We concluded the latter was the better policy.
I don’t know what acre- age Cruit Island occupies but tackling Murvagh the next morning was a journey from the sublime to the ridiculous. Another Hackett design, recently updated by Ruddy, this is another of those great, wild quintessentially Irish links that takes you on an epic journey.
It’s almost 7,500 yards off the back tees and plays to a par of 73 so expect plenty of hitting. There’s ample room to open your shoulders but you can expect good ball-striking to be rewarded.
Lough Erne
Finally, it was time to move inland, and back across the border, to Lough Erne, just outside Enniskillen. On my previous visit I had made the mistake of approaching from the Antrim coast. I now realise it’s considerably closer to Sligo than Belfast.
The quality of this Nick Faldo-designed parkland has never been in doubt but the resort as a whole has spent long periods in administration. Happily, those days are now behind Lough Erne, which looked every inch like the luxury resort it was built to be.
I was hugely impressed by the course, which is Ireland’s answer to Loch Lomond. The conditioning was superb and the design was even better than I remembered.
Faldo made maximum use of the eponymous water feature and it culminates with a run of three closing holes where there appears to be more water than grass. It’s dramatic, inspirational and immaculately conditioned. For my money, it’s the best inland course in the country, with a respectful nod to Mount Juliet.
While you’re here, you must stay overnight and enjoy the off-course facilities, which include fine dining and a Thai Spa.
Carne
Our next task was a long drive west, the destination one of the country’s most remote golfing outposts: Carne, or Belmullet to the locals.
If you thought there might be an outcrop of Ireland from where it would be possible to see America on the horizon, this is pretty much where you would end up.
We had come to see the new Kilmore nine, which were added to Hackett’s original 18 in 2013. Unfortunately, a battering from winter storms had resulted in these holes being flooded and therefore out of action.
But there was still plenty enough to entertain us. This is golf in its rawest, most unspoilt form. Take away the flags and to the untrained eye the land would look just as it has for centuries.
An appreciation is needed when playing courses like this that every hole will be different. It is a style of golf that must be embraced. If you are looking for technical excellence in every last par 4, if you are offended by an angle that isn’t quite right or a green where the proportions don’t match the hole, if you like your playing surfaces to be uniform – Carne isn’t for you.
sIf you are thrilled by unique holes, if you like a surprise around every dogleg, if you relish holes where you are taken out of your comfort zone, then you’ll love it here.
I wouldn’t argue that this is among the very best links in the country but I love playing here.
Connemara
Following a two-hour drive to Westport, which is a great place to spend a night, we were back in civilisation, and almost within touch- ing distance of the elusive Connemara.
Or so we thought, until we’d driven to the wrong golf course, Connemara Isles, which looked lovely but was sadly nowhere near our actual destination.
An hour and a half later and we were teeing it up on Connemara’s C nine. There are 27 holes here, imaginatively titled the A, B and C nines. Each starts and finishes next to the clubhouse.
If you’re spotting a theme then you won’t be surprised to learn that this is a Hackett creation dating back to the 1970s. The C nine was added by the same man, in partner- ship with Craddock, in 2000.
As a whole, I would rate it as one of his most impressive works. The C nine has perhaps the most challenging piece of land and correspondingly features arguably the strongest and the weakest holes on the property.
At his best, Hackett’s designs are uncomplicated, intuitive and on a grand scale, the fairways following natural lines and curves, and that’s certainly the case on the original 18 holes.
The first nine is situated on largely at ground, but then there is a shift to elevated greens and additional drama.
It culminates at the 17th, a par 5 where the protected green stands well above the level of the fairway.
This leads to the downhill tee shot on the last, which is as tempting an invitation as I can think of to have a lash at a drive with both your feet off the ground.
Connemara is characterised by rocky outcrops, with white stones peeking through coarse grasses. This leads to some terrific green sites that call for bold approach shots.
Rosses Point
That night we made the slog north to Sligo town, in preparation for a visit to Rosses Point.
For the purist, this Harry Colt design is in a class of its own in the north west and certainly it has a different feel to anywhere else within a hundred miles.
Ruddy, who grew up playing here, has recently returned to make some changes, most notably extending the downhill par-5 3rd by some 50 yards.
There are some seriously classy holes here, beginning with the short 4th, which would not be out of place at Muir eld, as well as some spectacular views of Ben Bulben and more changes of elevation than you might anticipate on an old links.
The hole that first springs to my mind when I think of Rosses Point is the 17th, a true championship-deciding par 4. The drive is straight- forward enough, then the fairway swings left and uphill.
Reaching the heart of the huge green always seems to require one extra club than you allow for, the rising ground sapping distance from your approach.
With that our work on the west coast was done, but not so our tilt as a whole. It was off to Newcastle on the other side of the country for our last hurrah. A night in the luxury of the Slieve Donard Hotel was required, strictly for recuperation purposes you understand. Similarly restorative was the view from our room of the Irish Sea and the Mountains of Mourne.
There is no space here to document my ongoing love affair with Royal County Down, suffice to say that it remains the nest course in the British Isles so far as I am concerned.
And with that the tilt was complete: seven and a half days of golf, several hundred miles, 13 rounds, 234 holes, more than a few pints of Guinness and a boatload of memories.
Given the chance, I’d do it all again tomorrow. Now where’s my passport?
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