The Lighthouse

Voice from the Course

Account relating to Turnberry, May 1928

The sea was in an awfy mood that morning, restless and fretful as anything. Fae the tee, the great lighthouse stood pure white against a tumbling, bruise-colored horizon that meant nae good tae anybody. The waves were battering themselves senseless against the rocky coastline below the ninth green, flinging salt spray right up oan tae the fairway like the sea itself had taken a dislike tae the game.

Ye cannae play here withoot feeling the sheer isolation of the Ayrshire coast right doon tae yer bones — there's nae escaping it, nor would ye want tae. There's a fierce, rough beauty tae the way the manicured edges of the green just drop away sudden-like intae the wild crags below, all chaos and spray. We finished the hole under the slow, sweeping eye of the lighthouse beam, and it watched us go wi' the patient indifference of something that's seen a great deal worse than a couple of golfers battling the Ayrshire wind.