POSTCARDS FROM EUROPE- WALES

August 3^rd – 9^th, 2009

If I were the betting type, I may wager that Wales is in fact the most serene location on my itinerary all season. The majority of the countryside is largely left to pasture, the grasses being kept in check by the millions and millions of sheep which wander freely in the fields all year round. The animals are rather resourceful and daring, finding sustenance on rocky ledges and cliffside perches that I would not dare set foot upon. One may hear a joke or two noting that the sheep outnumber the inhabitants, but honestly it’s not just funny, it’s true. Don’t you wonder how often there is more than an ounce of truth behind a stereotype? The sheep were many as we weaved up the roadways from London to the northwest corner of Wales, our economy-sized car darting from valley to valley. The vibrant green mountains sprung up all around, threatening to divert my attention from the road to the scenery.

Cricceith Beach

Our travels were taking us to the town of Cricceith, where the very affable Steve and Marie (Steve is a Royal St. David’s member), were willing to house us for the week. Their home was a modest, comfortably structured two-story building with wondrous views of the sea. The beachfront of Cricceith lay meters away with Cricceith Castle serving as guardian over the town from the towering rock on the coast. If you stood on the short boundary wall in the backyard, it was easy to see Harlech Castle, and Royal St. David’s below, from across the bay. Given the right mood and a clear outlook on the weather, it was hard not to bound out of the doorway for a little walk on the beach.

It was high season for tourists in the region. The camping grounds and caravan parks were especially popular which seemed strange given Wales’ notorious predisposition to rain. The swarms of people wandering through towns and jamming up the roads on any given day lead me to wish it were otherwise. The route between Cricceith and Harlech could take as little as 20 minutes or as much as 45, largely depending on how much traffic was on the one-lane toll road. The bridge that crossed the low waterway was narrow enough for only one line of cars to travel at a time and even at that, it is suggested you take it a low speed to avoid one’s passengers from bracing for a crash.

THE VIEW FROM THE 12TH TEE

THE MEN'S LOCKER ROOM

With both side-view mirrors and nerves still in tact after only two close calls this morning, we arrived at the course. Royal St. David’s sits in the shadows of Harlech Castle, erected on the rocky outcropping above the town of the same name. The view from the course is often dominated by the fortress with the best panoramas coming from the tee boxes of the 2^nd, 12^th, and 13^th holes. The note in my yardage book reminded me that a 4-wood at the “bottom of the castle wall” was about perfect but more often than not, lines and targets were ridges and sand dunes. Royal St. David’s is a traditional links course and perennially ranked amongst the best in the UK for good reason. The course was established in 1894 and the clubhouse if not original, must date back at least a few years. The men’s locker room had the feel of an old high school gym locker room and not one belonging to a club of its stature. However this like so many other parts of the St. David’s experience has its own unique and British charm.

The routing of the course zig-zags across the property, not the usual nine out, nine back of a seaside links course. As such, the player will face just about every imaginable wind direction possible which strangely enough did not switch at any point during my six-round stretch. The finish at Royal St. David’s, or Clwb Golff Brenhinol Dewi Sant in Welch, is certainly a force to be reckoned with. The shortened par-3 14^th, which played a 7-iron for most players during the tournament, is normally a respectable 222-yard short hole from the standard members’ tees. The par-5 15^th doesn’t house a single-bunker. With the wind down, it was reachable with 4-wood and an eagle graced my card in the 1^st round. When the wind picked up, I just as easily made the dreaded double bogey. But by far my favorite and most productive hole was the 11^th, a 6 ironish par-3 to a green hidden completely from view by a sand dune in front. A steady stream of beach goers crossed behind the green on a crushed shell path that ran through the course to the sea-front. Shouts of school children sometimes interrupting the hushed atmosphere of the group which always gathered on the natural stadium perch above the green. I carded two birdies and two easy pars during the week. What can I say, I love a crowd.