Royal Troon

I stood just ten feet from a birdie on one of golf's most famous holes.

My pitch had landed just in front of the Postage Stamp, skirted the Coffin Bunker, and stopped just short of falling off the notorious tabletop green.

This was the eighth at Royal Troon, a hole infamous for wrecking cards at The Open. The worst score recorded was a 15.

And there I was, with the potential for a lifetime memory. Sadly, my putt was meekly pulled ten inches wide of the cup, and I had to settle for a par.

A year on from the hustle of hundreds of thousands of fans during Open week, we had Royal Troon almost to ourselves.

The only others around were scores of sun-seekers enjoying family time on the beach adjacent to the first tee.

Temporary restrictions mean the squeals of those rushing into the cold brine aren't heard by Scottie, Rory, and co. when the golfing circus rolls into town.

We wondered whether the drivers of high-speed trains zooming alongside the 11th or the pilots of planes swooping low over the course before landing at nearby Prestwick Airport were also told to be a tad quieter than they were on the day we played.

I digress.

Our clubhouse visit was brief, but I did spot photographs of past Opens, also celebrated on the side of the building. Royal Troon was founded in 1878 and first hosted The Open Championship in 1923.

It's renowned for its demanding links layout, and being a` fearsome test of golf.

Bunker avoidance is the running theme at Royal Troon. There are four on either side of the first fairway, which runs alongside the sea, and then five more around the green.

The opening holes, all par-fours, struck me as rather similar, with bunkers omnipresent. On this day, the wind was against us on the way out, and I struggled to score well early on.

Water comes into play for the first time on the third, where a burn cuts across a fairway that again has traps around the green, whose undulations filter the ball towards the sand.

The yellow tees on the par-five fourth miss much of the drama. As no players were following us, I took the shot dictated by my commitment to the England Golf App, then attempted to carry one over acres of rough from the white tees.

The latter went five yards longer! But the real horror came from being too greedy on the second shot, flying my first ball and a provisional into thick rough on the right, only finding the second.

The rough is deep at Royal Troon, and the fairways are narrower than many courses we've played.

However, after messing up the fourth, my game belatedly came together.

I can attest that bunkers to the front and left of the par-three fifth and par-five sixth can thwart seemingly decent approaches. I can also confirm that the course becomes more exhilarating from the seventh hole onwards.

The seventh is a glorious dogleg par-four from an elevated tee over rough to a rolling fairway squeezed between four bunkers. Sand traps are nestled in the dunes framing the green above a gully.

The Postage Stamp seems so innocuous from the tee at barely more than 100 yards, but Mrs. W showed how punishing it can be.

After hitting a cleaner tee shot than mine, she watched in dismay as her ball slipped into the Coffin Bunker. Her first attempt to escape stayed in the trap, but she played a beauty with her second, avoiding the left-right march into the sand on the opposite side of the green.

My quest for a birdie was almost fulfilled on the par-four ninth, which bends inside heavy rough on the right and bunkers on the left. I was thrilled to reach the top tier of the green in two, and my 40-foot putt landed just an inch from the cup.

Professionals have a giant mound to fly on their tee shot to the 10th, while mortals walk past a curiously placed mobile home site (stuck between the railway line and airport).

Grassy hillocks stand in the way, and the obvious shot is into a hollow gap down the left. However, the next shot is steeply uphill to a huge green that rises from front to back.

The 11th has caused much grief during Open championships because of the thick gorse on the left and the railway line and wall on the right. The fairway narrows, bringing the wall just feet from the green. I was very satisfied with a bogey here.

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The final six holes at Royal Troon are notoriously difficult, often described as "hell" due to the level of the challenge against the prevailing wind.

This stretch has been the undoing of many a golfer, from amateur to professional, throughout the course's long history.

Fortunately, the breeze was with us, creating more opportunities than usual.

Indeed, the main issue on the par-three 14th was club selection. Mrs. W and I both hit strong shots past the bunkers defending the green, only to see our balls slip past the flag into tangly rough beyond the target.

The par-five 16th is one of championship golf's great holes, with the famous Blackrock house and trees to the left, and the sea and Isle of Arran behind them.

A decision needs to be made off the tee to avoid the burn that runs across the fairway before moving towards the hole, which is defended by six bunkers. I was thrilled to be 15 feet from the hole in three but frustrated by just missing my birdie.

My tee shot on the par-three 17th, with its famous hotel backdrop, even briefly looked like it might dive into the hole but rolled on 20 feet.

Memories of champions like Henrik Stenson (who won the 2016 Open at Troon in a memorable duel with Phil Mickelson), Arnold Palmer (1962 champion), and Bobby Locke  (1950 champion) were in my mind as I crashed my drive straight down the middle of the short, inviting 18th. 

I dreamed of my chip onto the green running up to the hole for a champagne moment of my own.

But just as I was on my downswing, raucous laughter came from a group enjoying a liquid evening on the hotel's terrace, and I chunked my ball into the bunker.

I walked off with a chastening six but still felt privileged to have walked in the steps of giants and even played a couple of holes better than some of them.

Thus, I had completed 12 of the 14 Open courses.