On being Old and [fill in the blank]

 Oy, lasses and laddies (dialect will be a thing in about 2000 words 😂 -- Db groans and says to himself "am I going to commit to reading it all?"),

Today was Cabot Highlands day.  Already we are satiated with good golf, so, after the brilliance of Royal Dornoch we wondered what we were about to get.

Here's one good pic, taken from the men's changing room -- 

Which is a segueway into today's story #1.

At RD, you saw the new clubhouse in the last blog.  They had a men's changing room.  It was very, very nice. Today's was comparable.  When we got there, I went through the changing room and saw that they had lockers, so asked and they gave me a "key" (a plastic card like you use to get into a hotel room) and I put my change of shoes and glasses (I wear contacts only to play golf; so far, FYI, the dry eye has not been bad :)).  And I put the card into the pocket for a wallet at the top of my bag. 

We finish the round, as you remember, in the gloaming, and I want to change to go to dinner (and my readers for when I have my contacts are in the locker, too).  I dig in the pocket.  It's not there!!! I try every pocket and can't find it.  I was about to go see if they could help me when I pulled my wallet and money clip out of my pocket (was I looking for cash to pay someone?) and, lo and behold! it was stuck in my money clip!!! 🎉🥳  (that I might have put it on the money clip has occured to me, but I have no such memory).

Ok.  Today, Cabot Highlands, they have lockers.  This time with keys.  I take one (number 20) and purposefully put the key deep into the wallet pocket.

We finished soaking wet, and you can tell (if you understand logistics) that some of Db's Instagram pics are mine (or maybe not) -- I had the phone out to take a couple pictures.  Or my caddie Colin did. After all the shuffling, taking off two layers of wet gear, digging out my money clip to pay Colin (caddies here, if not everywhere, get paid in cash -- a bit of an issue, but that's another story) and my phone.  Finally, I said to meself, it's time to go change, get my contacts out, and change out of my wet shoes. 

The key wasn't there!!!  I know I let out an RR style "F***!"  The greeter stepped over and asked if he could of help and I told him.  His name was Donnie and he is a former policeman.  Looks the part.   Donnie says, "Do ya mind if I have a look?"  I'm okay with that; I'm an inept old man.  As he goes to do so, he says, go into the pro shop and tell them Donnie said to give you the master key.

I go in and say to the two at the desk that I need help and say "Donnie told me to ask you please can I have the master key because I've lost mine."  The guy behind the counter says, "No, I don't think so."  Pause.  "But I've got this one."  He holds up a set of keys with a "20" tag on them!!!!!  "How?" "We're magic.  It's what we do here."  😂   They told me someone had turned it in at the halfway house (meaning I'd dropped it on the front 9).  Later, I came back and talked to one of the guys and he said "it happens all the time."  Really?  They find it.  "Oh, that almost never happens." 😱

The first point about the course is the Cabot experience.  We have now encountered this at both Bandon Dunes in 2022 and last year at Cabot Cape Breton -- both owned in part or whole by the same guy.  They do everything they can to make you comfortable.  They try not to make the clubhouse too big an issue (though it kinda is here), they give quality service, obviously great golf, and at a less than premium price.  And good food reasonably priced.  We ate both meals yesterday there. I will not repeat what one of the group said about what they buffed once you got on property :)

We played the older course, then the Texans slogged through a late afternoon round on Old Petty, their new course that is only open this year.  They wanted to see it, since it was designed by Tom Doak, maybe the premier living golf architect.  The old course is misnomered "Castle Stuart," although you only see the castle once (you play around it on Old Petty). 

For those of us anxious about the golf course, the first three holes rocked.  The picture above shows some of them -- along the coast (back to the Moray Firth), with the sea to your right on every hole.  On three, a short par 4, it actually played to a narrow peninsula. Banger start :)

There were some really good holes and some that leaned on you.  The 4th turned straight up hill inland, then you came back to the sea parallel to the first three for the finish.  Then you played the other way from the clubhouse -- with the water on the left.  After 12, there was a woman with a cart to drive the lamer golfers up the hill.  Colin said to me, "I hope you don't mind, but we've got a cart to take you up.  It's a climb.  Like 400 steps." Humourously, Maggie, the driver, got three of us on the cart, with two standing on the back (which no course in the US would do because of liability), and the cart did a couple wheelies going up the hill!!!  She apologized but...

Those next 3 holes were okay, but then you get back to the sea view on your right, coming in.  

This is where I tell you about the hell of Scottish golf.  It poured buckets overnight, up until our 10 o'clock tee time.  Colin said his dogs wouldn't even go out. 

But we got lucky again and didn't have rain until the back side.  It sprinkled, stopped.  Sprinkled, stop.  I had my short sleeve rain slicker on, then off.  On, then off.  On like 14 my sleeves were beginning to drip and I got wet changing into my long sleeve slicker.  And kept it on for the rest of the day because it opened up on 16 or 17.  17 is a par 3, into the wind, I think they said it was 230 yards from the white tees.  Db and I lamented hitting driver and not getting.  I didn't have my umbrella up or my rain pants on or my waterproof bucket hat on.  I was soaked when we finished.  Some were wearing their pants all day, or put them on when it got heavy.  But we all had to come home and dry stuff, including golf equipment out.  One of the caddies, I think it was Z's, named Torquil, "call me T," told us we didn't come to Scotland to not get the full Scottish golf experience.  FYI, yes, it was raining sideways, which we discussed was why we didn't get our 'brellies out.  Except B did and reported he probably ruined his when it popped inside out at least once. :)

I have to tell a bit about Colin, who will be prominent in the final story.  He was a retired truck driver from Glasgow.  He was a wee man and might have been my age (advanced).  He was in good shape; he doubled bagged for KG and I.  (The caddying situation was much discussed in postgame analysis).  It was conceded there'd been mistakes made setting up the caddies -- we shouldn't have double bagged.  We play different tees and we played from opposite sides of the fairway all day -- KG pointed out on like 15 that we were finally together after our tee shots for the first time. ):

Colin was a Glaswegian. If you don't know, the accent is famous for being strong.  Barry, the South African, was far more understandable.  I don't know how many times i had to have Colin repeat something because all I heard was mah dah i bah ee reet un blah blah blah.  So it goes right you say?  He was a good chap, working his ass off, the other foursome was behind us and they commented several times on the fact he was actually running (we were warned at least twice that we were behind pace).  There were a lot of times KG and/or I waited for Colin to cross the fairway to get a shot off. 

I will pause here for food porn. 

Here are the breakfast pictures:

RR, who loves salmon, got the avocado toast with salmon.

I think I'm Scottish now, though I couldn't understand Colin :), so I had porridge.

This is their breakfast sammy. 

Then for dinner:

After the round, B had this for lunch/dinner.  The logo in the bun is a thing. :)

Their croque monsieur (it's been on almost every menu), but this has haggis instead of ham.  Ponder that, if you will. 

G-man's (obviously) salmon over noodles. 

My club sandwich.

And everyone had this -- which was scrumptious. 

And now for a bit of talk for Sean, in the hopes Db doesn't read this far. :)

Db and I are now on our 4th trip to the British Isles to play golf.  We've always rented a car, and for the first trip, to St. Andrews, I did all the driving.  4 years ago in Ireland there were 7 of us, so we had two cars. 2 years ago it was just he and I golfing, so we had one small SUV for the part of the trip we were golfing and we shared driving duties -- he drives TO the course, and I drive BACK. 

Yesterday morning we are going to Cabot and we get in the van (we can all fit, with clubs! into the 7-passenger van) and I say I know where we are going and he doesn't need "the Google."  He grumbles, but says okay.  We get on the A9 (he now has it down that the opening left hand turn is into the nearest lane, instead of the first night when he tried to go across to the other and side and we all screamed at him :)).  A ways up the highway he says "are you going to tell me where to go?"  I said "we go up to the roundabout for the A96 to Aberdeen"...

Moments later the sign pops for the A96 and it's a turn and the turn lane is full of traffic.  He has to dive across traffic to get there (we would have had to go a ways to turn around).  He cusses, drives, and says "that's why I wanted to put in the GPS."  Okay, fair enough. 

Coming back the first time, I'm driving.  Here's the tab from Cabot (they keep one going the whole time you're there and you settle up); it only shows 15 pints, which everyone said was WAY low (there were 8 just for the post-round first beers), but many were consumed.  He conceded easily that I should drive.

I was lost going out.  But there was only one way in and one way out.  I stopped at one point because there was a gate in the way.  We hadn't stopped for a gate coming in. ???  "It was open."  "oh."  I recognized none of the road out the the A96. I don't know why.  🤷 

We get to the intersection with A96 and there are two lanes (and a turn-in curve that we came in).  He says, "You're in the wrong lane."  "No I'm not."  "Really f***ing are."  "No."  "That other lane is the turn lane." I did what I did, got on the A96.  We went back and forth and finally he just gave up and said "you're right" in that tone every married person knows. :) We sat silently for a bit and he says, "Yeah, you were right.  That lane was for people coming from our left to turn in."  :)

So, we get to the roundabout where the A96 meets the A9 and I'm not far enough left to do the immediate dive left I had to do and go around the circle.  There's a stop light.  "You need to be left."  "I'm okay."  "No, get left," and the light changes and I don't dive left and he says, "You're going to miss our turn" and I say "I want to go to Perth" and point to the sign and he gets quiet.  "My bad."  😂.  Pause.  "That would have been bad; it's a long way till you can turn around" (it was the road we'd just been on) -- "I got confused and just remembered A96."   

Note two things: I did tell a couple bits to my benefit (it IS MY blog :)), and he and I bicker like we're an old couple.  It gives us both joy. :)

I finish with this.  It's heather (if you didn't know or the picture isn't good enough).  It's still got a bit of purple to it there at Cabot, but was much brighter and fulsome at Dornoch.  It's the closest I've been to it. 

Wednesday is a travel day.  The Texans are trout fishing.  The OG's are going to the petting zoo and...well, to be determined.  

Hope you enjoyed.  Gun a-maireach.