I know I’m getting closer when I pass the little White House on Little Loch Shin in Lairg, turning right at Laxford Bridge, passing Rhiconich. We know we have arrived when seeing signs for the Cape Wrath Ferry, and when we catch sight of the view towards Faraid Head on the horizon above gorgeous Balnakeil Bay.
For us non locals, its miles away. For the locals, and a high percentage of them, it’s all they have ever known. You’ll meander single track roads for miles, but what will greet you as you turn from north to east on the A838 is a village that will always have a place in my heart. Durness.
It is a place my family have visited for generations, my grandpa first going as a young man with his motorbike and tent for his holidays. My dad subsequently following suit. It seemed inevitable we were taken there on our summer holidays. We were, and I loved every single one of them. The car was packed, the caravan we were towing was packed. Golf clubs, fishing rods, bikes, wellies, swimming costumes, bucket and spade, football boots, clothes for the cold, clothes for the warmth. The Tiffin, made specifically by Mum for our summer holidays adventures to the north west.
Approaching midnight on a Friday night in July we would roll into Sango Sands camp site. The engine switched off and the bare minimum done to allow us to fall asleep, for my dad to turn his work phone off and us to fully relax into a world so close, yet so far from home. The locals in The Spar shop, run by people our family have called friends for years, knew we had arrived when my brother walked in on the Saturday morning looking for fresh baguettes. A visit to the golf club, our home away from home was always next on the agenda, before beach walks, swims and relaxing in the freshest of sea air.
Durness Golf Club provides so many of my early memories of golf. There’s something about playing golf there that was, and is, so good for my soul. The brutal winds that walking into up the first hole would tire you out before you could say boo and not forget the exhilaration of getting the ball over the cliff’s above the Atlantic Ocean on the 9th hole. My favourite par 3 in golf. My fondest memories of all on the golf course there? The Tuesday night Texas scrambles. Members and visitors alike could roll up at 6pm, play 9 holes and enjoy a cup of tea and banter after. It wasn’t always the score that mattered, it was the amount of midge bites you had received. The more the wind, the less the bites…
It's little surprise after all these years of holidays and support I have received from the locals, our friends, to my golf career, when I noticed Durness were inviting advertisers to sponsor a flag for the 2023 season I jumped. I had to. It was important that I showed support to the club, I had to keep something tangible and keep a part of me in a place that meant so much. To those in Durness who have supported me and I have the privilege to call friends, thank you.
I could talk about the place for so long, maybe one day I’ll tell you more...
