"Ha!" I say to my fellow golfers after tapping in for par on the famed eighth hole at Royal Troon. "You call this a postage stamp? This is a veritable philatelic album compared with the third hole at Whiting Bay."
"Whiting Bay?" they ask. "Where is Whiting Bay?"
"Right over there," I say, pointing west to the Isle of Arran, clearly visible in the hazy sunshine across the Firth of Clyde. The third green at Whiting Bay is no larger than your bedroom, and if that doesn't get your attention, this redoubtable uphill par three is utterly blind and a stout 184 yards long. Believe me, it's a double bogey waiting to happen.
As the crow flies, Arran is just eleven miles from the west coast of Scotland, but in terms of a golf experience, it might as well be on the other side of the world. Consider this: My round at Royal Troon, complete with caddie, cost a staggering $520. You can play all seven courses on the Isle of Arran for about a third of that amount: $190. If you splurge, as I did, and take a trolley (pull cart) on each one, it'll run you about $220.
With one noteworthy exception, this is not notch-in-your-bedpost golf. If you try to regale your regular Saturday foursome back home with tales of your epic par on the Road Hole at Machrie Bay or how you cut the corner and drove the twelfth at Brodick, you will be met with blank stares. Each of Arran's courses has its charms, however, and taken as a whole this salubrious septet provides a refreshing, relaxing and ridiculously reasonable alternative to the high-cost, high-visibility golf on the mainland.
But budget is just one reason a golfer might go to Arran. It is also ideal if you are a high-handicapper, not ready to test your mettle at Troon or Turnberry; are traveling with your golfing spouse, who has no interest in British Open venues but would still like to tee it up; or are looking for a tune-up before tackling the brawny big boys across the Clyde. And perhaps most compellingly, the Isle of Arran is equal parts charming, quaint and beautiful, and it feels like a throwback to an earlier, gentler era—as does its golf.
This is bare-bones, back-to-basics, no-yardage-on-sprinkler-heads golf. Quirky, too, with crisscrossing holes, double greens and a bonanza of blind shots. And just because these courses are short (the longest doesn't reach 5,500 yards) and par is sixty-four or sixty-five doesn't mean they are easy. Keep in mind that on Arran, as is the case throughout the British Isles, visitors are seldom permitted to play the back tees—or "medal tees," as they are called there. This may seem annoying to Americans who "want to play the whole golf course," but it's worth remembering that the wind often compensates for the decreased yardage, and there is nothing to be done about it anyway. Indeed, some courses are more difficult (relative to par) from the regular tees. Lamlash Golf Club is a case in point: From the back tees it features six par fours of less than three hundred yards, but from the regular tees five of them play as scarily long par threes.
With only five thousand year-round residents, Arran boasts the highest ratio of courses per capita this side of Myrtle Beach. But there's more to Arran than golf. Known as "Scotland in Miniature" because its 166 square miles mirror the landscape of the mainland, Arran offers majestic mountains, sweeping moorland and sandy beaches. There are palm trees, golden eagles and seals basking in picturesque harbors. There are medieval castles, a brewery, a distillery and a chocolate factory, all with moderately priced tours. Food and lodging are easy on the wallet as well. Still, the best deal on the island is the Arran Golf Pass, which entitles you to play a round at each of the island's layouts, all for only £95.
The rain is pelting down when I land in Glasgow. Strapped into my rental car, I refamiliarize myself with left-hand drive on the fifty-minute trip to Ardrossan, where I catch the ferry to Arran. There I check into the splendid Kilmichael Country House Hotel, just two miles from the landing in Brodick. After lunch the rain begins to let up, so I resist the temptation to take a nap and head north on a dramatic thirty-minute drive to Lochranza Golf Course through terrain reminiscent of the Highlands.
Lochranza is a clever if slightly confusing layout—it's more than a nine-holer but isn't exactly a full eighteen. Eighteen tees play to twelve greens, six of them double greens. As I play, I spy evidence of a recent high tide—seaweed and jellyfish are strewn about the low-lying areas closest to Lochranza Harbor. There are only two other golfers on the course, but I'm not lacking for company. A tame herd of a dozen or so red deer accompanies me around the links, eyeing me with mild curiosity. The alpha male, with his imposing twelve-point rack, bellows at me from time to time. "You don't want to get too close too him," warns Iain Robertson, Lochranza's proprietor. "It's rutting season." I keep my distance and play out my round without incident.
Back at Kilmichael, I shower and change for dinner. This is the kind of place where you join your fellow guests in a drawing room to sip a single malt and order your meal. (I have the Savoury Bread and Butter Pudding, one of those Scottish dishes that sounds odd but tastes delicious.) On this particular evening, eight of the nine guests conversing in the petite, beautifully appointed dining room are celebrating a wedding anniversary. Guess who is the odd man out.
The next morning, Fortified by A full Scottish breakfast, I return to my room and encounter a tiny brown wren that has flown in through an open window. "Could this be an omen?" I wonder as I set the twittering creature free. Alas, it is the only birdie I'll see all day.
First stop: Corrie Golf Club, a charming nine-holer. The tea room-clubhouse is closed, as is the modest changing room. But the Honesty Box—where visitors are asked to place their greens fees—is open. Golfers access the first tee by means of a small gate, hard by one of the many wildlife grates I will see on Arran's courses. Corrie opens with a nondescript par three but then perks up as it turns toward the highlands. Soon I discover one of the secrets of Arran golf: Although traditional links layouts often follow an out-and-back design, three of Arran's courses take the up-and-down approach. By the time I have clambered up to the highest point on Corrie, I am more than ready to park myself on a bench and catch my breath. A ring of the island's tallest peaks (just under three thousand feet) forms a dramatic backdrop, while Sannox Bay shimmers below in the morning sun. The trip downhill is a breeze.
Changing into shorts, I set out for an afternoon round at the Brodick Golf Club, a pleasant eighteen-hole layout overlooking Brodick Bay. Completely flat, Brodick provides a welcome contrast to the exertions of the morning. There are challenges aplenty, including the par-three eighth hole, the only 167-yard dogleg I have ever played, and the formidable eighteenth, a tight 222-yarder that reminds me of the directions to grandmother's house ("Over the river and through the woods . . ."). The cheery clubhouse bar is the perfect place to sample my first pint of Arran ale.
My first port of call the next morning is Lamlash Golf Club. With its lusty hills, it is not a course for the faint of heart or weak of calf. I am delighted when I glance at the scorecard on the eleventh tee and discover that this hole is called Last Climb.
Huffing and puffing notwithstanding, Lamlash is a treat. Admittedly, I may be charmed by the sight of the golfer on the fifteenth tee who shouts "Fore!" as his ball heads straight into an unsuspecting herd of cows. Or perhaps I am simply swept away by the jaw-dropping views of the Holy Isle—so named because of its long history as a sacred site—on this sunny morning. Whatever the reason, Lamlash leaps to the top of my list.
"If you think Lamlash is hilly," laughs the cow-pelter at lunch, "wait until your next round." I've told him that I'm heading five miles down the coast to Whiting Bay Golf Club, perched high above the town of the same name. When I arrive, the day has turned drizzly. There isn't a soul in sight, so I pay homage to the Honesty Box and head for the hills.
Yikes! By the time I have registered double bogey on Postage Stamp Jr. and reached the fifth tee, I'm exhausted. Thankfully, at this point the course tacks across an alpine meadow bordered by majestic evergreens. These holes are agreeable enough, if unmemorable. The happy trip downhill is interrupted by one last climb to the fabulously funky green on the seventeenth hole, aptly named the Cauldron. This volcanic bowl would do any miniature golf course proud.
After a forty-five-minute drive around the south end of the island, I stumble into the cozy bar at the Blackwaterfoot Lodge. Although I am tempted to park myself on a stool for hours, genial proprietor Ian Relf persuades me to order dinner and prods me into the homey dining room. Afterward I hear the siren song luring me back to the bar, but thirty-six holes of goatherd golf has taken its toll and I retire to my room.
Walter Hagen played at Mach- rie Bay Golf Club in the 1930s. Legend has it that he was planning to play the vaunted Machrie course on the Isle of Islay but found himself at this nine-holer on Arran's west coast by mistake. Undaunted, he played anyway—or so the story goes—circling the course twice in a record fifty-three strokes.
As the scorecard proudly points out, Turnberry co-architect and 1883 British Open winner Willie Fernie is credited with Machrie Bay's design. At first I wonder if ole Willie sketched out the links at the end of a long night in the pub. But as I am quickly reminded, a four-club wind can turn the most prosaic layout into a stern test of golf. The sixth and seventh run side by side and measure an identical 280 yards, with one tiny difference: The gale that's at my back on the sixth buffets me in the face on the seventh. My scorecard littered with fives, I hang it up after nine. Hagen's record is safe for another day.
Last stop is the Shiskine Golf and Tennis Club, the best known of Arran's courses. Its fame is due in no small part to the fact that it has just twelve holes. Expectations—and curiosity—running high, I pull into the windswept parking lot. There I am greeted by the starter, who had advised me by phone to "save the best for last." She has a ready response for every question about Shiskine's atypical hole total. "Think how much happier wives would be if all courses were twelve holes," she chortles.
I get my golf pass stamped and pick up a marvelous course descriptor chock full of exhortations, advice, underlining, highlighting and a forest of exclamation points. As I set off down the first fairway, I take in the sweeping view of the Kintyre Peninsula across Kilbrannan Sound, enjoying the springy turf underfoot. The blind shots come fast and furious—challenging but not unfair. At the far end of the course, beneath the majestic Drumadoon Point headland, I encounter two hikers looking for the King's Cave, one of several Scottish caverns where Robert the Bruce is said to have had his fourteenth-century spider epiphany ("If at first you don't succeed, try, try again").
By this point, I have had an epiphany of my own: Shiskine is the real deal, the jewel in Arran's crown. I am enchanted by the Crows Nest, a blind pitch over a steep bank. I am humbled by the Himalayas, with a huge gorse-covered hill between tee and green. And I am wowed by the Hollows, surely the only par three that goes up, then down, then back up again. Walking off the twelfth green, I realize that there's one problem with saving the best for last. I want to play Shiskine again—and again. But alas, the ferry to the mainland awaits.
Trip Planner: The Isle of Arran
Where to play
Sure, you can pay as you go on Arran, and if you're only planning to play a round or two, that's the way to do it. But if you have the time and the inclination, the Arran Golf Pass can't be beat—it gets you one round at each of the island's seven courses for a mere $190. The pass can be purchased at each of the courses as well as at hotels and guest houses; it's also available at the Isle of Arran Tourist Information Centre in Brodick and from Fiona Crawford at 011-44/1770-830-270.
Brodick Golf Club
A short walk from the ferry terminal, this lowland layout is an attractive antidote to Arran's hillside courses. Don't expect a pushover, though: It offers plenty of risk-reward opportunities and two of the tougher par threes you'll ever come across.
Architect: George Laidler, 1913. Yardage: 4,747. Par: 65. Greens Fees: $48-$52. Contact: 011-44/1770-302-349, brodickgolf.com.
Corrie Golf Club
No need to book in advance at this workingman's nine-holer—just show up. Anything goes in the attire department as well: cargo pants, blue jeans, you name it.
Architect: Unknown, 1892. Yardage: 1,915. Par: 31. Greens Fee: $30. Contact: 011-44/1770-810-606.
Lamlash Golf Club
With stunning views that are earned by hiking over hill and dale, this is the best eighteen-hole course on the island. A friendly staff and congenial members further enhance the experience.
Architect: Willie Fernie, 1889. Yardage: 4,510. Par: 64. Greens Fees: $44-$56. Contact: 011-44/1770-600-296, lamlashgolfclub.co.uk.
Lochranza Golf Course
An unusual layout that crosses the same fast-moving stream no fewer than eight times. It closes with the longest (of just three) par fives on the island, a 542-yard brute aptly named Warrior. Sorry, no relief is granted for balls that end up in the hoof marks left by the red deer that frequent the course.
Architects: Unknown, 1898; Iain Robertson, 1991. Yardage: 5,487. Par: 70. Greens Fees: $36-$48. Contact: 011-44/1770-830-273, lochranzagolf.com.
Machrie Bay Golf Course
Not a blind shot to be found on this utterly flat nine-holer, with sheep grazing contentedly in the fields all around you. Save time for a lemon-curd meringue in the wonderful tea room.
Architect: Willie Fernie, 1900. Yardage: 2,278. Par: 33. Greens Fee: $30. Contact: 011-44/1770-840-329.
Shiskine Golf and Tennis Club
This twelve-hole gem is a must; each hole offers hidden delights. Make time to play it more than once. Be forewarned, however: Some twenty-thousand visitor rounds were played at Shiskine last year. The moral of the story: Book in advance.
Architects: Willie Fernie, 1896; Willie Park, 1911. Yardage: 2,996. Par: 42. Greens Fees: $36-$44. Contact: 011-44/1770-860-226, shiskinegolf.com.
Whiting Bay Golf Club
Strap on your crampons: hills and more hills. But if you're not hyperventilating, you will enjoy the sweeping views of the Firth of Clyde to the east.
Architect: Unknown, 1895. Yardage: 4,405. Par: 63. Greens Fees: $39-$44. Contact: 011-44/1770-700-487, whitingbaygolfclub.org.uk.
Where to stay
Auchrannie House Hotel, Brodick. Arran's version of the full-service resort, with a spa, indoor pools and gymnasium. Couples gravitate to the rooms in the original building, which dates to 1869, but families are inclined to opt for the more modern (if antiseptic) quarters in the adjoining spa. Two- to three-bedroom lodges are also available. Rooms: from $130. Contact: 011-44/1770-302-234, auchrannie.co.uk.
Best Western Kinloch Hotel, Blackwaterfoot.A stone's throw from Shiskine. No surprises here, and less character than the Blackwaterfoot Lodge up the street, but more activities (swimming pool, squash court, snooker room) for children and nongolfers. Rooms: from $60. Contact: 011-44/1770-860-444, bw-kinlochhotel.co.uk.
Blackwaterfoot Lodge, Blackwaterfoot. No frills, and great for groups. The cozy bar is perfect for a postround pint or two after negotiating your way around Shiskine. Rooms: from $54. Contact: 011-44/1770-860-202, blackwaterfoot-lodge.co.uk.
Kilmichael Country House Hotel, Brodick. With the money you saved on the Arran Golf Pass, splurge and stay at this quintessential country house hotel with only seven rooms. Peacocks roam the manicured grounds. The ideal place to celebrate an anniversary or to pop the question. Rooms: from $150. Contact: 011-44/1770-302-219, kilmichael.com.
Where to eat
Blackwaterfoot Lodge, Blackwaterfoot. Nothing fancy, just excellent home cooking at reasonable prices in a comfortable atmosphere. If you are lucky enough to dine here on an evening when coproprietor Ann Relf is at the helm, you'll have an especially fine meal, indeed. 011-44/1770-860-202, blackwaterfoot-lodge.co.uk. $$
Brodick Bar & Brasserie, Brodick. Bustling scene with great food listed on a huge blackboard. Popular with locals, which is always a good sign. Try a pint of Deuchars IPA. 011-44/1770-302-169, thebrodickbar.co.uk. $$$
Kilmichael Country House Hotel, Brodick. Without a doubt, this lovingly decorated room is the best spot on the island for a romantic dinner. Make that a quiet romantic dinner: It's one of those havens where diners speak to each other in hushed tones so as not to disturb their neighbors. In other words, this is definitely not the venue for raucous all-male foursomes recounting highlights of the day's golf at top volume. Superb food. It's tiny, so book in advance. 011-44/1770-302-219, kilmichael.com. $$$$
How to get there
The Isle of Arran is located on Scotland's southwest coast almost directly across from Troon. Fly into Glasgow Airport and drive to Ardrossan. Take the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry (011-44/8705-650-000, calmac.co.uk) from there to Brodick on the island, a pleasant fifty-minute passage if the weather cooperates. Additional Arran info is available at visitarran.net. —M.D.
