- www.standrews.org.uk
- www.worldgolfhalloffame.org
- www.golfforcause.com
- www.thebraidsociety.com
- www.alistermackenzie.co.uk
- www.donaldross.org
- www.asgca.org
- http://www.waltonheath.com/
Come See Some Grouse (Walton Heath)
By Taba Dale, August 25, 2010
Never was I happier to not play a round of golf that had been so much looked forward to.
All the way from Celtic Manor to Walton Heath, we slogged through persistent rain. We pulled in next to a Corniche and sat in the car park while deciding our strategy for getting one of our golf umbrellas out of the boot.
We arrived at this storied club to play #82 on the Top 100 courses (2009, Golf Magazine) well ahead of our 2pm tee time, which became tea time. Or rather, we opted for a glass of wine and bite to eat in the bar, after conferring with the Professional, Simon Peaford, over in the golf shop. We discussed the idea of coming back to play the following Monday, which gave me plenty of time to marvel that this personable young man was following in the footsteps of James Braid, winner of the Open Championship 5 times and their professional for 46 years.
Ho! What good fortune. We settled in a cozy corner near the bar, where an irresistible book entitled “Heather and Heaven, Walton Heath Golf Club, 1903-2003” by Phil Pilley was discretely displayed. I was completely absorbed from the first few paragraphs of the Introduction where Pilley confesses: The title of this book, by the way, is shamelessly plagiarised—though with consent from The Daily Telegraph of Augusts 5, 2002. That day Bill Meredith, reporting the English Amateur Championship, wrote that
a bewildering burst of back-to-back eagles followed by a birdie lifted
Richard Finch into a field of dreams at Walton Heath, a wonderful
mixture of heaven and heather.
I merely changed the order of billing to ingratiate myself with the heather.
It only got better from here, when a trio of members were passing through the bar and one stopped to chat with us—perhaps because he learned of our passion to play the highly revered parkland course. He introduced himself as Simon Creagh Chapman, and revealed that he is the Chairman of the Green Committee. Moments later, when I quoted one of my heroes, Bernard Darwin, who said: If there’s something golfers want and do not get at Walton Heath, I do not know what it can be, Simon disappeared for an instant and then presented me with a pristine copy of the centenary history book to keep. For me, this was on par with back-to-back eagles!
The whole magical encounter took a fantastic turn when Simon invited us into the inner sanctum of the clubhouse. There hung a magnificent life size portrait of the champion James Braid, by Sir James Gunn, RA, c.1925. On the way back to the bar, he pointed out another of the crown jewels—a Gunn portrait of the architect of Walton Heath, Herbert Fowler, who was an accomplished 
amateur golfer when he was commissioned in 1902.
Back at our table, Simon continued to astound us with stories of how his great grandfather was instrumental in founding Ballybunion.
Apparently it all started with an invitation to “Come see some grouse!”
Ferry Tale (Morfontaine)
By Taba Dale, August 23, 2010
Following behind two metallic burgundy fully-decked-out matching Honda motorcycles (with trailers!), we drove on to the 9am ferry to Fishguard, and departed the dock on time. We were comfy with WiFi and two Pullman chairs on deck 7 of the Stena Line. With endless cloudy skies, a west wind and a calm sea, we are sailing to Wales, where along the way to Holland, we will begin our quest to play 3 more of the Top 100 courses in the world—starting with Royal Porthcawl.
Our main reason for embarking on this 10-day journey to Holland is to celebrate Kevin’s sister Gerri’s 60th birthday. All of Kevin’s siblings will be coming from all over the world, like they did for his 60th birthday last year in Liscannor on the Emerald Isle.
Walton Heath will be a story unto itself, but perhaps the most looked-forward-to of all is #54 on the Top 100.(2009, Golf Magazine) North of Paris in the Chantilly, Oise region, I am told it is tougher to get on than Augusta. We are guests of Laure de Gramont.
In 1913, the 12th Duc de Gramont (1879-1962), 
a keen golfer, engaged Tom Simpson (1877-1964) to re-design the original (1911) 9-hole Valliere course, near his estate Chateau de Valliere. In 1927, he commissioned Simpson—the same architect of Royal Lytham, Cruden Bay and Ballybunion — to design the 18-hole course. With some recent alterations by the American architect Kyle Phillips, it lived up to its reputation of being a “museum piece.”
We have permission to invite some friends, so we are delighted that Nancy & Michael Bamforth, who live in Belgium, will be joining us. We are extremely grateful that they speak perfect French, as Michael learned from the secretary –manager when providing their handicaps that the men are required to wear long pants. Thankfully we have been spared the embarrassment of Kevin showing up in his perennial favourite shorts. Mon dieu! That is, when we finally do show up—as our “route-planner” directions only bring us to the ancient town and we are now looking for a place that does not want to be found!
After a delicious lunch on the veranda of the ivy-covered, understated clubhouse —with a glass of wine (bien sur!)—the four of us set out on our round. Other than one member playing by himself, we were the only people on the oh-so-private Morfontaine. Starting on the first tee near the sandy parking lot, we wove our way through the magical forest
along the pine tree-root-bound paths and lengthy heathery carries. There is no way to describe this experience other than to employ another Oscar Wilde quote: The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.
With a little rain and a lot of humidity, we completed our round, full of wonder and a very good appetite for a fabulous meal in the medieval village of Senlis. Saw-lease. Nancy taught me how to pronounce it correctly.
We parked near the magnificent Cathedral (dating to the 12th century) and in the fading daylight, walked on the cobble stone streets to Porte Bellon, where Nancy and Michael had stayed and eaten the night before. Something to drink? Yes, please, I’ll have a glass of shampoo! What else could a champagne-loving golf geek do? A true fairytale day.
Celtic Clash (Royal Porthcawl)
By Taba Dale, August 23, 2010
Alighting from the ferry in Fishguard, we are welcomed with some sunshine. We’re back to miles and spelling that only the Welsh can decipher. No longer in the Emerald Isle-land of 40 shades of green—we are now in with only 39 shades of green and one other distinct difference—the roads are much smoother.
We must ARAFWCH NAWR as we have a WYNEB DROS DRO due to TREFN FFYRDO O’CH BLEAN because the FFORDOO AR GAU.
Which is to say that we must reduce speed now as we have a temporary road surface due to a new road layout because the road is closed ahead. Or something like that.
As we are stuck behind a truck, listening to a CD, all of a sudden in a BOOMING voice, BBC Radio overrides our music with a traffic report at a deafening decibel level….lanes blocked, still queuing on the road to Swansea although the accident is long gone—the voice tells us. OK!! After inching along, we finally start moving.
We haven’t been in Wales for more than a half hour before I realize we are seeing 10 times the number of BMWs that we might see in a single day in Ireland. Zoooom.There goes the first Porche Carrera since leaving Scottsdale—opening the throttle between the speed cameras. As our movie unfolds, the contrast piles up—here’s a guy in a red T-shirt beside the road having a pee while a sleek black Bentley slithers by. Clash of low class and high class.
No way we’ll make our tee time at Royal Porthcawl. Not a problem they say- we’ll get you out when you arrive. The weather has taken a dramatic turn and we are now about to tee off in gale force wind. I can barely stand much less get my ball on the tee. Daunting. When rain comes in by the 12th hole, I give up trying to play “extreme” golf and make my way back to the 
clubhouse where I can behold the rugged sea and absorb the history of Porthcawl from the confines of the cozy bar.
Founded in 1891 on a nearby piece of land, the original 9 holes were laid out by Charles Gibson, the professional at Westward Ho! The present layout was extensively modified by the esteemed H.S. Colt in 1913, with major alterations done by Tom Simpson in 1933. This course has crept (back) into the Top 100 in the world, occupying place #100.(2009, Golf Magazine) I was impressed to read the actual letter dated 30 March 1909 from Herbert John Gladstone to Sidney Robinson, M.P. (1854-1930)—at the time the Vice President of the Club, which says:
I am glad to inform you after inquiry and consideration, I have felt able to recommend the King to permit the club to use the title “Royal”, and that His Majesty has been pleased to approve the recommendation.
While Kevin has continued on to battle the elements, I sooth myself with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, and have time to consider the clash of being inside the oh-so-refined royally ordained golf haven, as opposed to the raw, heaving, golf-ball-gobbling landscape outside—wishing I had more “ballast” so I could finish one of the great golf experiences of Wales. Perhaps the golf gods will let me have another go on a calmer day.
A Score by the Tail (Donegal)
By Taba Dale, August 19, 2010
We arrived in Donegal very late on Tuesday night so Kevin could play a practice round at Donegal Golf Club on Wednesday morning. His idea of a “holiday” is playing in the Ulster Seniors, which started today. When the ominous morning came, I went out at 10.04 with him and another competitor from Dun Laoire, but came in to the clubhouse at the turn. The play was painfully slow and when the menacing clouds down poured for the third time, I sought shelter. It was certainly a day when you could experience all four seasons in your backswing.
Along with a bite to eat, I availed myself of the small booklet in the golf shop commemorating the 50th anniversary of Murvagh (1959-2009) as it is often referred to —and have now increased my geekiness by a significant margin. I learned that when Eddie Hackett (1910-1996) was commissioned in 1973 to lay out this course on a 180 acre tract, for the modest fee of £200, he cleverly used Muirfield as a model, with the front nine running counter-clockwise around the perimeter of the peninsula, and the back nine forming an inner clockwise loop.
Hackett, ever modest himself, was known to say: “I found that nature is the best architect, I just dress up what the Good 
Lord provides.”
It was the highly esteemed Pat Ruddy who was hired in the mid 1990s to make some changes over the next few years, and we did see him arrive yesterday to play in the tournament as well. I had actually discovered a couple of days before while reading in the “Official Golf Guide” for 2010, published by the Irish Tourist Board, that some redesign at Enniscrone was taken on by the “late Pat Ruddy,” so we had a good laugh when the “late” Pat Ruddy arrived in his customary good humor.
If it were not for the unfavorable conditions, I might never have learned that the Irish Hare is Ireland’s fastest mammal and they live in nests called “forms.” And did you know that the badger is Ireland’s largest carnivore? They live in underground tunnel systems called “setts,” The starter on the first tee warned us of a pesky resident badger who had been tearing up turf and sure enough we saw evidence of his nocturnal activity on the 16th tee.
Perhaps the keen horticulturist and common golfer alike, will be amused to know that included in the 50 species of wildflowers found here on the seaside links at Murvagh are: Sneeze Wort, Dog Violet, Common Vetch, Devil’s Bit Scabious, Yellow Rattle and Bladder Campion.
But the most interesting species of all is the bag-carrying-or-trolley-pushing-ball-chasing-two-legged-golf-obsessed mammal who will travel great distances all over the world to play the most challenging game known to man. Both Kevin and one other playing partner today carded 79, missing a few putts by inches, to rob them each of a more magical number—Tony lamenting, “ I had a score by the tail.”
The Island (The Island)
By Taba Dale, August 3, 2010
Sandwiched in-between hosting our guests at Portmarnock and The K Club, Kevin and I managed to get out to play The Island on the Sunday, July 25th. It is a bit unfortunate that our only possible time to play there fell on the day of the Ladies Member competition, so we went out at 12:40pm, the first available tee time after the final fourball.
We were so warmly received by David Costigan, the Head Professional in the golf shop, and greeted so graciously on the first tee by Donal O’Meara, the Captain, and Council Member Miriam Hand who took our photograph, we were setting off on our adventure feeling very special indeed.
I had heard about The Island Golf Club some years ago, and was eager to finally have a chance to see this classic links course for myself. From James Finnegan’s “Emerald Fairways and Foam Flecked Seas,” to Tom Coyne’s “A Course Called Ireland,” it has been highly revered. I must say, it exceeded my expectations.
Kevin hits a very long ball, so we let the ladies clear the first green before teeing it up. I had a good shot up the middle. Uphill par 5, downhill par 4 and then a rollicking rollercoaster the rest of the way. Blind shots, doglegs, greens tucked behind dunes…even a long par-3 reminiscent of the blind par-3 “Dell” at Lahinch.
Now that I live in Scottsdale, Arizona, I found it particularly amusing to find the 5th hole named “Desert,”—this hole was the blindest of blind. Quirky like Machrihanish.
It felt like the whole concept of elevated tees originated here, as the heights and the views over the dunes and to the sea were intoxicating.
By the time we got to the 14th, the course had slowed considerably with the competition on. It would be our last hole. At least I could finish with what may have been the best drive of the day onto the narrowest five-yards-wide fairway, with water all the way up the right side and a towering dune running the length of the hole on the left. Intimidating.
Time got away from us and we needed to make our way to Blackrock for an early dinner with Kevin’s daughter and family. Hopefully we’ll be back again some day to finish the final four holes—and perhaps play it several more times so that all the blind shots will no longer be blind.
Cute Up Close (JP McManus event at Adare Manor)
By Taba Dale, July 6, 2010
We spent the entire afternoon yesterday at the JP McManus Invitational Pro-Am, which is staged at the Robert Trent Jones Sr.(1906-2000) course at Adare Manor in County Limerick. It is the last major course he designed. The two-day event, inaugurated in 1990, is played every 5 years—and has raised a staggering €55 million for groups in the Mid West working with underprivileged and disadvantaged.
Kevin cleverly remembering a back road, skirted around the miles of cars in a massive 2+ hour back-up to get into Adare. We parked on a grassy lot and followed the stream of people through a field of waist-high barley, walking single file along the giant tractor tracks. It was an almost mystical scene, with the stately Adare Manor Hotel finally emerging from behind a wall of trees, as we golf pilgrims emerged from a tan sea of wavy stalks of heady grain. Threading our way through the throngs of people, we spotted The Dog House, and got in the lengthy queue for a not-so-hot-hotdog. Hungry no more.
The record-breaking crowd of more than 40,000 came to watch defending champion Padraig Harrington, reigning U.S. Open champion, Graeme McDowell, and 13 of the 16 top players in the world—yes--including Tiger Woods. We were part of the enormous gallery on the 12th green, where we did see him on his way to a painful 79. On this testy 7,453 yard layout, in windy conditions, Harrington finished with a 76, we later learned, taking a double bogey on the treacherous 18th.
Much to my surprise and delight, we got to see my DC hometown hero, Fred Funk, tee off on the 167-yard par-3 sixteenth. First shot in the water. Second shot just a few feet from the flag. In this festive atmosphere, Fred eagerly turned around and signed lots of hats for dozens of kids. This is when I realized, that oh, Tom Lehman was in the next group. Get ready!
The jolly crowd was funny when Lehman consulted his caddie about what club to hit in the swirling wind to carry the water to a narrow, heavily-bunkered green—they yelled in unison: 7-iron! When the 7-iron carried over the green, someone said Fred Funk hit 9-iron, to which Lehman quipped, they better give him a drug test-! With the page opened to Tom’s photo, I got my outstretched program in his line of sight and said: For a Scottsdale fan! My new “hometown”hero (who lives at DC Ranch, not far from me) said – the weather’s much better here isn’t it? You bet it is!
But perhaps the biggest hero of all for me, was the one-legged amateur player Manuel de los Santos, playing with Lucas Glover, who after knocking his bogey putt in with his rubber-footed crutch, was all smiles and bowed gracefully to the cheering crowd.
Last thrill of the day—while walking down the 18th, seeing the crush of giggling girls trying to get their picture taken with Hugh Grant—yeah—he really is kinda cute up close!
Keeper of the Royal Ball
By Taba Dale, September 22, 2009
On a distant shore, on a distant land, it happened.
The sky was leaden. The wind was uncharacteristically calm. It was moisturish, as they say in Machrihanish.
Although it is so remote, golfers like me eagerly make the pilgrimage to play the pure links course called Machrihanish Golf Club. Situated on the Kintyre peninsula of western Scotland, on a clear day you can even make out the coast of Northern Ireland.
During the summer of 2005, I made the journey to play in Ireland, to attend The Open Championship in St. Andrews and hope to see Tiger take home the Claret Jug for a second time. He accommodated me.
Before I left Machrihanish, it provided something amazing to punctuate my golf odyssey. It was supposed to be a secret, but the whole town was atwitter. The isolated village of Machrihanish is little more than a single street. The region once boasted as many as 28 distilleries—now there is just one single-malt bottled: Springbank.
Right on schedule, at 5pm, the entourage of black Range Rovers made their way to the car park.
I was hurrying to finish my round and claim my spot on the wee bit of grass on this soon-to-be-royal teeing ground. The opening hole at Machrihanish is considered by many to be one of the best in the world. Your daunting tee shot must carry at least 150 yards over the Atlantic Ocean—for the men, more like 200 yards.
We waited patiently until at last Prince Andrew emerged from one of the Rovers. Known to be a very keen golfer, he came to hit a few ceremonial balls off the new “Tiger Tee,” recently carved out of a tiny spit of land, below and behind the small golf shop.
The town worthies and Captain of the Club welcomed him heartily on the narrow tee, bestowing a bottle of Springbank Whisky and a box of Machrihanish-logoed balls. Finally the time came for Prince Andrew to tee up the first ball and he asked, “Does anyone have a tee?”
Having just come off the course, I waved and said, “I do!” He graciously took the tee.
As it was low tide, a man and his dog were strolling on the beach. With natural bonhomie, the Prince noted, “Right, that man and his dog are now in danger!” He fired off three powerful drives. They all found the fairway. Quietly, a little boy was dispatched to go and retrieve them.
While the camaraderie and picture-taking continued, we all basked in the glow of this magical moment. The Prince then asked, “Whose tee is this?” I raised my hand and said, “You can keep it,” but he insisted on giving it back to me and placed it gently in my palm.
Having been touched by royalty was certainly enough to make my day, but then another amazing thing happened. A friend within the circle of officials secretly passed me one of the golf balls.
As the fog settled in, we made our way to the warm clubhouse where the men huddled around the Prince. I sat by myself relishing the moment when I became forever the Keeper of the Royal Ball.
Passion For Golf & Travel Lead to a True Life Partner
By Taba Dale, October 13, 2009
Lough Erne, Northern Ireland
I was asked by a dear friend to run a charity golf event in memory of his oldest daughter who had died of breast cancer in February of 2004. My friend, who was Scottish, was trying to help raise money for the White Lily Fund, a Glasgow-based organization that funds breast cancer research and awareness in the west of Scotland.
He went to his close friend, Pat Ruddy, owner and designer of The European Club, south of Dublin, Ireland and asked for a tee time to auction off at a White Lily Golf Day in May, just a few months after his daughter died.
Pat, being the incredibly bighearted man that he is, said “One tee time is not enough, I will give you the whole course.” It was I who was asked to run the entire event, which I did from my home base in the Washington, DC area.
The date Pat gave us was October 3rd, It was a full-time job for 5 solid months, but I was honored to be asked and it allowed me to grieve myself and do something significant to memorialize the sweet soul whose light was extinguished way too soon.
From gathering all the auction items, collecting all the entry fees, ordering all the engraved trophies, booking all the hotel rooms and selecting the menu for the gala dinner on October 2, 2004, I kept myself busy sweating every detail, an ocean away from this World Top-100 Rated course by the Irish Sea (whose course record is currently held by Tiger Woods.)
With 70 or so people traveling over to Ireland from Scotland, England, Wales, Germany, and the U.S., there was a lot of information to keep track of, including the team members names and their handicaps. One generous fellow, who paid the entry fee, but could not fly over, arranged to send someone in his place. His name was Kevin McGrath.
It was easy to find a team needing a fourth player, but where to seat him during the gala dinner? As it turned out, I put Kevin right next to me on my right. I remembered him saying how privileged he felt to be at my table, and other than learning that he was born in Dublin and now lived in the southwest of Ireland, I hardly had any more time to chat, as during the live auction, I was constantly out of my seat providing the winning bidder with a certificate and recording their payment—as these were the important donations!
The night was as festive as it could be under the circumstances, and also very emotional, as the founders of the White Lily, the father, mother, stepfather and sister of the deceased young lady were all there, and it was impossible to hold back the tears—and is even now as I write this.
By the spring of 2005, I had gotten the inspiration to launch my own travel venture. As I continued to relive adventures while playing golf in Scotland and Ireland for the last couple of years—especially on pure links courses, I was motivated to share my many exhilarating, uplifting, fun, joy-giving experiences with other women. During my travels, I saw scores of men reveling in their great golf vacations and thought women would love these experiences too, if they only knew how to do it.
I fished out Kevin’s card from a stack of papers, as I vaguely remembered it saying something like “golf travel consultant.” I rang him up in Ireland and asked if he would consider being my travel partner, and much to my delight he said YES!
Although I didn’t generate many bookings at first, it gave me an excellent opportunity to get to know him on a business level. I discovered that he was very reliable, professional knowledgeable, and operated with utmost integrity—all pleasantly blended with his endearing accent, charming personality and sense of humor.
By August of 2006, I finally managed to live my dream and move to Scottsdale, Arizona! The travel bug bit me while I was just a teenager, but having taken up golf late in life (nearly 50!), my passion for golf was growing to the extent that I really wanted to BE IN a golf culture. I fell in love with the desert on my first visit here in the 1980’s, and am truly blessed now to call it my home.
When I got word that Kevin would be in Scottsdale on a golf trip with a group of his Irish pals in October of 2008, I suggested he stay on for a week or two when the others went home. And that’s when it happened. Magic!
So now, along with being in the tour operator business together, we have discovered that we are “true life partners” as Kevin says. It just doesn’t get any better than that—when you find that you are on the same wavelength and can share your passion for golf, travel, fine dining and good wine, meeting fascinating and inspiring people—and now, after 5 years, it is all rolled into a beautiful relationship that intensifies the joy of living.
On my most recent trip to Ireland last month, we not only played 11 rounds in 14 days (including The European Club where we first met!), we did site visits at some incredible properties including Mount Falcon on 100 acres of woodlands, encompassing 2 miles of the River Moy—known the world over for salmon fishing–in County Mayo. This palatial home was built as a gift in1876 for Ultred Knox to give to his new bride. We also luxuriated at the 5-Star Lough Erne Golf Resort in Northern Ireland, where we played the breathtaking new Faldo course twice! Although not a links course, it is exceptional.
As our Ryder Cup 2010 golf trips include several different itineraries in Ireland, Kevin thought it was important for me to be more familiar with all these first-class golf courses, spectacular landscapes, unique and tasteful accommodations, and I just had to agree with my true life partner - how could I not?
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