A round around Turnberry has surely got to be one of the greatest Christmas presents ever. I played this course along with my eager companion on 27th December 2009, when the rest of the UK was literally entombed within the vortex of the so called’ big freeze’.Due to ground frost I had previously experienced (13/12/09) the crushing disappointment of a cancelled round. On that occasion the starter sympathetically informed me that I was particular unlucky as the course is very rarely closed for the entire day. I awoke on the 27th December, deflated with pessimism and extremely sceptical that any balls would be struck that day. As we travelled down the M77 from Glasgow, passing the fenick moors, the snow must have been 6 ft deep for as far as the eye could see. The white magical winter wonderland was only compounding my increasing negativity. Every inch of visible land was covered with snow.As we climbed the hill leading to Turnberry, the imposing Aisla Island burst into vision. As the snow abated around us goosebumps broke out all over my body. There wasn’t an inch of snow to be seen within Turnberry itself. Clearly and act of God rewarding us for our dedicated pilgrimage.It became clear that we would soon be playing the legendary course and we celebrated by playing the BBC golf theme as we continued our approach.After a brief tour of the club house, hotel, short game area and museum I was left imagining what it would be like to be a member at this temple of golf.We were directed to the first tee. My heart was beating hard and adrenaline was pumping through every vein in my body. I could not believe I was about to live out a boyhood fantasy.I see little point explaining or describing the course. It speaks for itself. All I can say is it is a surreal experience. It passes by in a dream like fashion and before you know it one is at the 9th Tee facing arguably one of the most famous Tee shots in golf. Time after time I glanced at my colleague who was wearing the broadest, most genuine smile I had seen in years.I compare the feeling to seeing your favourite rock band when one is young. They are not real people but superbeings. Turnberry isn’t a real place but somewhere where you are temporarily transported to where nothing else matters or exists. It is simply magical.
Date: June 02, 2010