I have a friend who is better known as the “Great Explorer,” on
account of his propensity for trailing off the fairways and prowling through the
undergrowth of our parkland layout in search of his tee shots. He knows every
square inch of its territory intimately.
Consequently, when he took the train while on a visit to London to
play the esteemed Honourable Company’s Muirfield course, he was overwhelmed with
joy and expectation upon entering its laneway gate. “Not a tree in sight! This
is surely the course for me!”
His companion opined that he would never get around in less than
100, but the G.E. was confident. Bets were laid. Alas, our hero was counted at
100 as he holed out at the 14th.
Like many a golfer who steps on linksland for the first time, our
friend greatly underestimated its challenge. Links golf is a vastly different
experience, labeled by some as real golf. Its demands are numerous and present
an examination unlike any in golf.
There is some truth that linksland members can be snobbish about
their golf, but on the other hand, they have something to be uppity about. Links
golf is uniquely precious: Of the 30 million or so golfers of the world, just a
handful get to play their golf by the sea, on tracts of sandy land left high and
dry and empty. Not all courses by the sea are links. Pebble Beach, for example,
wouldn’t qualify; it might be categorized as clifftop or coastal meadow.
By the process of geography and climate, some unusual aspects
apply to golf on dried-up coastal beaches. First, there is the matter of the
turf itself. There is never any expectation the first-time golfer will find any
grass under his ball when he finds his first tee shot—certainly not by
comparison with what he has left behind. Seaside links are never lush, even if
they are green—a color that usually disappears in summer.
One can still be shocked at the aspect of the British Open at
Royal St. George’s and Hoylake (Royal Liverpool) of recent times that exposed to
the world the hue of untoasted biscuit, or what the fashion world calls oatmeal,
with just thin sparse cover of fairway grass that made them more dust than
vegetation. 
