
‘My favourite round of golf of all time'
I'm at the home of golf, the place where it all began, on the first day of my Marine & Lawn Grand Tour — a customisable experience that allows golfers to combine fine hotels and food with the most iconic courses across Scotland and Northern Ireland. On this there's no need to consider logistics — everything is arranged, from tee times to dinner reservations and transfers to caddies. The only thing I need to worry about is getting the ball around 18 challenging holes of links golf without being distracted by the natural beauty.
The company offers six hotels and resorts to choose from, including Dornoch Station, Marine North Berwick and Slieve Donard. My playing partner and I visit three: Rusacks St Andrews and Marine Troon in Scotland and the newly opened Portrush Adelphi in Northern Ireland, a short stroll away from Royal Portrush Golf Club, the venue for July's Open Championship.
Having never visited the Old Course on which the sport was born more than 600 years ago, St Andrews seemed like the perfect place to start our four-night adventure. Just an hour's drive from Edinburgh airport, the little coastal town is a delightful mix of traditional windswept stone buildings and natural beauty. It's also a temple to golf, with endless parades of golf shops, statues, pubs and plaques commemorating Tom Morris, the godfather of modern golf.
At the heart of the town, a few feet from the final green of the Old Course, is our first stop-off: the outstanding Rusacks. First opened in 1887, the original towering townhouse mansion has been sympathetically extended to create a luxurious yet relaxed country-style boutique hotel. Interiors are rich with wood panelling and bookshelves, framed pictures of golfing adventures, chandeliers, intricate wooden floors and heavy-piled patterned rugs. Our room, at the front of the hotel, has views over the beach on which the opening scenes of Chariots of Fire were filmed, and is a wonderful place to rest and relax after a round of golf, with a big bathtub and walk-in shower.
The staff, who genuinely seem to love the town, the hotel and its history, recommend lunch at One Under Bar, which feels like a cross between a traditional brick-walled pub and smart clubhouse — and serves a delicious Scottish charcuterie board. We're keen to get playing, though, so having picked up our Titleist rental clubs (we wanted to travel light — but you can take your own) and got instructions on where to pick up our caddies, we were off in our hire car.
The Grand Tour organisers have matched our golfing abilities (an 18-20ish handicap) with courses that are both challenging and enjoyable. First stop, Dumbarnie Links, about 20 minutes away — a beautifully designed modern golf course that occupies 375 pretty acres overlooking the Firth of Forth. After a wee dram on the first tee with our caddies, we enjoy a testing but exhilarating 18 holes under the spring sun: a glorious introduction to links golf (please don't ask my score). Then it's time for a delicious seafood dinner at Rusacks, with sunset views over the Old Course.
The next day it's time to play the famous St Andrews links. The New Course, designed by Tom Morris in 1895, is the oldest 'new' course in the world, and runs parallel to the hallowed turf where golf began. With the wind behind me I manage a birdie on the par-five 3rd. I'm Tiger Woods, I think, or Rory McIlroy. Alas no. I finish with 91, but will never forget that birdie.
Things get even better at our next stop, Room 116 at Rusacks, an intimate lounge and bar that celebrates two of Scotland's greatest gifts to the world — golf and whisky. After a tasting experience of the Glendronach Highland Single Malt amid pictures of golfing legends, and seafood and steak at 18 Rooftop Restaurant, set high up above the golf links, we drive two and a half hours to Marine Troon.
The light and airy hotel on the Ayrshire coast, with views over the Isle of Arran, is just feet away from the 18th fairway of the Royal Troon Golf Club, nine-time host of the Open. The building, originally a manor house from 1894, has plenty of period charm, with rich woods and chandeliers, floral wallpapers and deep carpets — and views from every window of the coast and the course.
After a delicious lunch at the Seal Bar (named after the first hole at Troon), it's time to try Dunbonald Links, which has hosted the Scottish Women's Open and the final qualifying for the Open Championship. Here we are kept on our toes by water, cauldron bunkers and some spectacularly undulating greens, then soothed by Marine Troon's comfortable and relaxed restaurant, the Rabbit, where we feast on delicious fresh trout and pork belly. Sadly there's little time to visit the hotel's large pool and spa, because the next morning we have a half-hour flight to take from Glasgow to Belfast and an hour's road trip to the charming seaside town of Portrush.
As we drive past Royal Portrush Golf Course, the stands have already been put up for this summer's Open Championships and the area is buzzing with activity. Our hotel, the Adelphi, converted from a grand townhouse, is a block away from the beach and, like the others, has dark polished woods and leather furniture to sink into and a plethora of golfing and nautical touches to remind you where you are. Although the room is spacious and comfortable, the sunshine and nearby seashore lure us out — as does more golf.
Our final 18 holes are 15 minutes' away, along the coast road, at Portstewart Golf Club, host of the Irish Open and rated one of the top 100 golf courses by Golf Digest. We've been told the views are impressive, but nothing can prepare us for the majesty of the opening nine holes. Framed by the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean, the moody sky, rolling dunes and tricky manicured greens, this is a course that assaults the senses (in a very good way). It is also extremely challenging. Without our incredibly patient caddies, we might still be on the course. But after Guinness on tap at the halfway house, and a back nine offering us a few more chances for par, we make the final hole before dark. Afterwards, on the clubhouse balcony overlooking the beach, we agree: this is our favourite round of golf — not just on the tour, but of all time.
Hosted by the Adelphi's friendly, chatty staff, we celebrate with more excellent seafood (ranging from cured sea bass and crab linguine to risotto di mare) and a cocktail in the bar. I did get around Portstewart in double digits — and that has to be worth celebrating.
As we drive back to Belfast the following morning, I reflect on the lessons I've learnt. I probably need to have some golf lessons in a bunker. Apparently it's not always 25C and sunny on these links courses. But, most of all, the Grand Tour is most worthy of its name.
A four-night golf trip with Marine & Lawn costs from £5,000 per person, including accommodation, golf and transfers (but not flights and food), marineandlawn.com

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The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
‘Unlike anywhere else in Britain': in search of wildlife on the Isles of Scilly
At Penzance South Pier, I stand in line for the Scillonian ferry with a few hundred others as the disembarking passengers come past. They look tanned and exhilarated. People are yelling greetings and goodbyes across the barrier. 'It's you again!' 'See you next year!' A lot of people seem to be repeat visitors, and have brought their dogs along. I'm with my daughter Maddy and we haven't got our dog. Sadly, Wilf the fell terrier died shortly before our excursion. I'm hoping a wildlife-watching trip to the Isles of Scilly might distract us from his absence. One disembarking passenger with a cockapoo and a pair of binoculars greets someone in the queue. 'We saw a fin whale,' I hear him say. 'Keep your eyes peeled.' This is exciting information. The Scillonian ferry is reputedly a great platform for spotting cetaceans and it's a perfect day for it – the sea is calm and visibility is superb. From the deck, the promontory that is Land's End actually seems dramatic and special, in a way that it doesn't from dry land. There are several people armed with scopes and sights who are clearly experienced and observant. The only thing lacking is the animals. Not a single dolphin makes an appearance, never mind the others that make regular summertime splashes: humpbacks, minke, sunfish, basking sharks and, increasingly, bluefin tuna. Arriving in Scilly by ship is worth the crossing: wild headlands, savage rocks, white sand beaches, sudden strips of transcendentally turquoise ocean interspersed with the bronzed pawprints of kelp. Of course, it can be thick mist and squalls, but we're in luck, the islands are doing their best Caribbean impersonation. Hugh Town, the capital of St Mary's, is built on the narrow isthmus between two rocky outcrops. It's a quirky, independent town with the kind of traffic levels our grandparents would recognise. Up the hill, from the terrace of the Star Castle Hotel, we can see all the islands spread out around us, and handily there's a lady with a friendly labrador who gives us a pithy summary of each. St Martin's: 'Beach life.' Tresco: 'The royals love it.' St Agnes: 'Arty.' Bryher: 'Wild and natural.' Bryher is our big wildlife destination because the plan is to rent kayaks there and paddle to the uninhabited Samson island, which is a protected wildlife area. I'm banking on Samson for wildlife now that the whales didn't show up, but first we're going to explore St Agnes with Vickie from the Isles of Scilly Wildlife Trust. After a short ferry ride from St Mary's quay, we stroll around St Agnes and across a short sand spit, a tombolo, to its neighbour, Gugh. Vickie leads us up a heather-covered hillside next to an impressive stack of pink granite boulders. 'St Agnes and Gugh used to have a rat problem,' she tells us. 'There were an estimated 4,000 that had destroyed the breeding populations of both Manx shearwaters and storm petrels. We're pretty sure we've eradicated them now and the bird populations are rising fast.' She leans over a small burrow under a lichen-crusted rock, and sniffs. 'Yes, that's storm petrel – they have a distinctive aroma.' Using her phone, she plays a series of cackles and squeaks down the hole. No response. I ask Vickie about the archipelago's endemic species. The Scilly bee? 'Hasn't been seen for many years.' She chuckles. 'What makes the islands special is often what we don't have. There are no magpies or buzzards, no foxes or grey squirrels. Those absences are important.' What they don't have in terms of fauna, they certainly make up for in flora. The lanes and paths of St Agnes are a ravishing spectacle: agapanthus and honeysuckle, huge spires of echium and smooth succulent aeoniums from the Canary Islands. 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Sign up to The Traveller Get travel inspiration, featured trips and local tips for your next break, as well as the latest deals from Guardian Holidays after newsletter promotion I relax. She is right. The best travel adventures come unplanned. The low tide means we land at Crow Point, the southern tip of Tresco. 'Last return boat at five!' shouts the boatman. We wander towards a belt of trees, the windbreak for Tresco Abbey Garden. The eccentric owner of the islands during the mid-19th century, Augustus Smith, was determined to make the ruins of a Benedictine abbey into the finest garden in Britain. Having planted a protective belt of Monterey pine, his gardeners introduced a bewildering array of specimen plants from South Africa, Latin America and Asia: dandelions that are three and a half metres tall, cabbage trees and stately palms. Just to complete the surreal aspect, Smith added red squirrels and golden pheasants, which now thrive. Now comes the moment, the adventure decision moment. I examine the map of the island and point to the north end: 'It looks wilder up there, and there's a sea cave marked.' We set off. Tresco has two settlements: New Grimsby and Old Grimsby, both clutches of attractive stone cottages decked with flowers. Beyond is a craggy coast that encloses a barren moorland dotted with bronze age cairns and long-abandoned forts. At the north-eastern tip we discover a cave high on the cliffside. Now the low tide is in our favour. We clamber inside, using our phone torches. A ramp of boulders takes us down into the bowels of the Earth, and to our surprise, where the water begins, there is a boat, with a paddle. Behind it the water glitters, echoing away into absolute darkness. We climb in and set off. Behind us and above, the white disc of the cave entrance disappears behind a rock wall. The sound of water is amplified. After about 50 metres we come to a shingle beach. 'How cool is that?' says Maddy. 'An underground beach.' We jump out and set off deeper into the cave, which gets narrower and finally ends. On a rock, someone has placed a playing card: the joker. Later that day, having made sure we do not miss the last boat back, we meet Rafe, who runs boat trips for the Star Castle Hotel. He takes pity on us for our lack of wildlife. 'Come out on my boat tomorrow morning and we'll see what we can find.' Rafe is as good as his word. We tour St Martin's then head out for the uninhabited Eastern Isles. Rafe points out kittiwakes and fulmars, but finally we round the rock called Innisvouls and suddenly there are seals everywhere, perched on rocks like altar stones from the bronze age. 'They lie down and the tide drops,' says Rafe. 'These are Atlantic greys and the males can be huge – up to 300kg.' Impressive as the seals are, the islands are better known for birds, regularly turning up rarities. While we are there, I later discover, more acute observers have spotted American cliff swallows that have drifted across the Atlantic, various unusual shearwater species and a south polar skua. Next day is our return to Penzance, and it's perfect whale-watching weather. People are poised with binoculars and scopes, sharing tales of awesome previous sightings: the leaping humpbacks, the wild feeding frenzies of tuna, and the wake-riding dolphins. Nothing shows up. I complain, just a little, about our lack of wildlife luck. Maddy is playing with a pair of terriers. 'The thing with Wilf was he was always content with whatever happened,' she says. I lounge back on the wooden bench on the port side, enjoying the wind, sun and sound of the sea. I'm channelling the spirit of Wilf. Be happy. Whatever. It's a lovely voyage anyway. And that's how I missed the sighting of the fin whale off the starboard side. The Star Castle Hotel on St Mary's has double rooms from £249 half-board off-season to £448 in summer; singles from £146 to £244. Woodstock Ark is a secluded cabin in Cornwall, handy for departure from Penzance South Pier (sleeps two from £133 a night). The Scillonian ferry runs March to early November from £75pp. Kayak hire on Bryher £45 for a half day, from Hut 62. For further wildlife information check out the


The Sun
3 hours ago
- The Sun
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Telegraph
4 hours ago
- Telegraph
Gordonstoun pupils recreate teenage King's 28-mile Cairngorms hike
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