Saturday, May, 8. What a great day! The Crail Golfing Society (not a golf club, not a golf course - a Golfing Society) has two courses. The morning round was at the Balcomie Course, the seventh oldest course in Scotland; the afternoon at the Craighead Course, which I think is only 4-5 years old. The Balcomie Course struck me with its beauty - it hugs the shoreline for a large part, which is rocks and crags and sand and sweeping bays, less hilly than my golf-love, Royal Dornoch, or Cruden Bay, but still many elevation changes. The wind was blowing, but the calmest day so far. The smell of the sea was strong in the air - we were closer to the sea on this course than any we played. In fact, a couple holes you have to cut across the sea. Unfortunately, I now have a ball in the North Sea. Some of the holes sort of criss-cross each other, laid out in an earlier time when the course was rarely full. A few signs on tees requesting to please wait until another tee or green is clear before hitting. Other holes border potato fields, with stone walls that stretch forever. I played with David Sneddon, Neal, and Coops, and we switched partners every six holes. Neal took a caddie - well, sort of. As we approached the sea holes, I really felt the age of the course, the song of the sea, the course spread out before me, and I had to just stop and fill my eyes and my senses with the course. I thought of my wonderful wife who didn't 'let' me go - she *urged* me to go because she wanted me to experience this trip. I thought of my kids, who were as excited about me going to Scotland as I was, and eagerly listened to me describe the golf and the place and the nature - they will go to Scotland with me some day. It hit me then, hard, that I am the luckiest damn bastard that ever lived. I drank it in. I pretty much floated the rest of the trip. Being so happy must be good for my game. At least my irons - birdie, birdie, birdie, birdie, birdie, birdie. I had six birdies this day. The Balcomie Course has 6 par 3s, I birdied three of them. The first is a long 210 yard uphill par 3 that I hit short and right of the green, with a big slope that would sweep my ball to the right and then the green sloped down to the left. I could just see it.... and my run-up 8-iron took exactly the line I saw. Dropped in the cup for a sweet bird! The shot of my dreams for tonight - well one of several, actually. I slept well indeed. On the same hole, Sneds hit his ball into the bank of the hill. There was a brown growth there that we called a 'Brown Poodle'. Sneds killed the poor poodle. The very next hole, I thought I was going to be broke. Back down the hill we just came up, I pured an iron and 5 pairs of eyes stared as the ball was dead on the pin all the way, hit the green and rolled toward it, and appeared to hang on the lip. Would it drop? No. Actually was about a foot away. Back-to-back birds. Another par 3 a wee bit later - 6 feet, sank the putt for three birds in one round - very good for me. On one hole, we had to hit across a bay in the sea. There were some telephone poles on the far ridge and we were trying to decide what was the best line to take as it was hard to tell the distance. We asked Neal's "caddie" how far was the carry on a certain line - one of the telephone poles. "Pretty far" he said. Wow, what a big help. Now you know why I have a ball in the North Sea. Later, Neal hit is ball in a burn, the "caddie" fished it out.... and handed it, dripping with green slime to Neal, then washed his hands on Neal's towel. Neal cleaned the ball on the grass before dropping it. The 8th hole, Neal and Coops are on in 2, I think I was partner with Coops. David and I had both hit our tee shots OB. Neal and Coops put on a putting exhibition and halved with sixes. Yes, that is four putts apiece. They were actually PLANTING gorse at this course, protecting it with little tubes. I pissed on it, trying to keep the course playable. Anyway, with my three birdies, I won 2 pints. The afternoon round was the 2-PINT match in the Thor/Plow v Koenig/Sneddon series of matches. Mark and David wanted revenge for the match at Dornoch. The Craighead course is very different from the other courses we played. It is not a links course, has very thick grassy rough off the fairway, and has stone walls and earthen ridges from some old railway crossing the fairways. You have to hit over these walls and ridges at times. The greens have large slopes and were faster than the greens we had played so far. Fortunately for the good guys, I was still hunting birdies - birdie, birdie, birdie. This time, one each on a par 5, par 4, and par 3. And I missed the easiest birdie putt - a 4-footer on a par 3 (I love the par 3s at Crail!). I mentioned a stone wall. We were deep into the match, which, of course, is more important than life or death. There is a shortish hole with a wall about 4 feet high, you can lay back of or hit over. The carry over the wall is not too far, probably only 220 or so, so I attempted to carry it - I believe the others all did so. Unfortunately I hit a poor drive that barely reached the wall, hit it, and bounced back only 4 feet or so. I was up against the wall. I asked Sir Plow, my partner, if my normal sand wedge would clear it - he said yes, but it wasn't his noggin on the line. I thought I could aim a wee bit left and still hit close to the green, but he pointed at a dandelion on the line to the pin and said to aim at that. Meanwhile, Mark and David were standing up top watching. Ok, I'll try it, I said nervously.... bury me at Dornoch and tell Annie I love her. I hit the shot solidly, and when the ball left the club every nerve in my body was hit by an electric shock as my brain anticipated pain and death. Mark said the ball cleared the wall by less than a foot. It landed about 10 feet from the pin on the right of the green - I was the closest to the pin in the group. Unfortunately I missed the birdie putt. We came to the 16th 1-up. Mike had trouble on the hole, I had a poor lie on a downslope where I just avoided rolling into a bunker. I hit a good shot, but it ran through the back of the very long green into some steep rough. Mark K was I think on the green for a sure par. We really needed to halve this hole. I hit my pitch out of the long rough well, but it rolled 25 feet past. But I saw the line as it almost hit the hole. Drained the putt. The 17th is a 175 yard par 3 that played about 250. Nobody reached the green, but Mike got up and down for par and we had two pints. Two pints + Two pints = 4 pints. I'd be drinking for free half the night anyway. We drank the pints and followed them with some scotch called Lagavulin. The bar owner informed us that this was the last bo'tle and it was now empty. So I asked for the bottle. I couldn't fit it in my suitcase, however, so I left it in the B&B room as a souvenir. Just another awesome day in Scotland. Pictures to come!