Ending a trip like the Golf Road Warriors makes me both sad and happy. Sad to be going (with so many courses left to play!) but happy to be heading home.

There was a near international incident at the hotel at 630 this morning, Scotland time, when the front desk couldn’t find Anita Draycott’s clubs, which she had left at the pro shop the night before with clear directions to have them ready to go early the next day. Eventually they were located, and it didn’t cost us much time or trouble, but it reinforced one of my cardinal rules of golf-travel: Always keep your clubs close at hand. I’d rather drag them down to the lobby myself than worry where they might be at any moment.

Which got me to thinking about other lessons from the trip just completed. Here are just some of the things I learned over the last week.

Go With The Swing That Got You There. I already wrote that Scotland is not a good place to work on a swing change. (I repeated the line to numerous people, including Scots, and they all agreed.) The conditions are too fickle and we put too many expectations on our games when playing the great courses. So try not to be doing too much tinkering with technique while on the road. That said, do experiment with the low, running shots characteristic of links golf: They’re fun and can find a place in your game when you’re back home.

Stop Worrying About The Weather. The old saw is that if you don’t like the weather in Scotland, give it a minute; it’ll change. And it did for us, numerous times. Still, a good rain suit is almost always a must (we were all very happy with the suits given us by Sun Mountain), and some wind gear, as well. Pack a few cold-weather things, although there are few better places in the world for buying woolen sweaters, knit caps, and the like. I used rain gloves for the first time this trip and was very pleased. However, I never used my umbrella: I kept thinking, “Why bother?”

Don’t Overdo The Equipment. Your normal set of clubs from home should do fine, but if you usually go back and forth between a hybrid and a long iron, the lower-flying iron may prove handy. And don’t bring too many balls, even if they are expensive overseas. With or without a caddy you’ll probably find most of your errant shots, and probably uncover a few pellets lost by previous golfers. (Apologies, but I forgot to mention earlier that we were given some of the new Hex Black balls from Callaway to try. They’re designed to spin less coming off the clubface, a good thing in the constant Scottish winds. They performed well even when I didn’t.)

Speaking Of Caddies… Yes, they are great—funny, helpful, part of the experience. But you can also rent a “trolley” (hand cart—manual or electric-powered) or just throw the bag on your back and hoof it. I had minor knee surgery seven weeks ago and did fine walking, although I did follow every round with a hot shower and ibuprofen.

British Food Is Terrible. Yes, if you’re only doing a comparison of fish-and-chips shops. We ate some absolutely marvelous meals, lots of fresh produce and local meats and fish. Most memorable was our last night when the chef at Mar Hall created a special seven-course meal for us, each dish matched with an exquisite, and interesting, wine. I’m sure one of the other warriors will list the entire menu: All I can say is that it was one of the best meals I’ve ever had anywhere. Great chefs creating original and exciting meals can be found all over Scotland, as well as England, Ireland, and Wales, too. (But do try the fish-and-chips at least once. Maybe a deep-friend Mars bar, too.)

Brits Play Fast. More than 200 years after throwing off the yoke of British rule, it seems we Colonials have finally gotten back at the redcoats: We’ve infected them with slow play. Two or three times we found ourselves behind a group of locals who circumnavigated the greens, took practice swings, stood stock-still over shots, and did absolutely nothing to try to open the gap to the group behind them. And I don’t think they were getting us back for Catherine Zeta-Jones running off with an American. (Yes, I know, she’s Welsh; do you think the Scots are that upset about losing Craig Ferguson?)

The Private Clubs Are Stuffy. The members of Western Gailes could not have been nicer, welcoming us to their wonderful club, teeing it up with us, talking about their course and club, then spending tons of time in the bar afterward. I’ve found that to be true at nearly every other British club I’ve ever visited. But if you think they’re stuffy, at least they let us in: Try arranging a visitor’s round at Winged Foot or Los Angeles CC. But you can play Muirfield and all the other greats; it just takes a little arranging and following their rules. Maybe we’re the stuffy ones.

Links Courses Need To Be Old To Be Good. Machrihanish Dunes and Dundonald Links were terrific tests, fun and challenging, and very different from what we are used to (as well as each other). And both are less than 10 years old. Also on that point, those of us who like links golf can be pretty snobby about it, thinking that if you don’t like the change in scenery and shotmaking you’re not a “real” golfer. That’s unfair. But I strongly suggest that if you do like golf you at least give links-style a try.

Okay. Where’s the next Golf Road Warriors trip???

None of us Golf Road Warriors expects any sympathy for the schedule we’ve kept the last few days. Lots of golf and great meals, staying in luxury, and crisscrossing western Scotland in search of more. Poor poor us, indeed.

Not to complain, but it was a busy few days. Up early, out late, walking courses in sometimes tough conditions, and then applying liberal doses of food and drink (especially whisky) purely for medicinal purposes. We are all dog-tired. So it was welcome relief to check into Mar Hall, a five-star golf and spa resort just a few minutes from the Glasgow Airport, where we’ll be heading in the morning. You readers might not feel our pain but the excellent staff at Mar Hall is quite experienced in giving succor to the weary warrior.

The 240-acre estate overlooks the River Clyde and is dominated by the main building, which used to be the Erskine Mansion on the Earl of Mar Estate. The Earl of Mar is the oldest title in Britain, going back to the original kingdoms of Scotland. The baronial mansion was built in the mid 1800s from stone quarried on the site and oak imported from Canada. More than 50 million pounds have been spent refurbishing it to its original, yet updated, grandeur.

Befitting the age and design of the building, it’s filled with little passageways leading into grand rooms now used as bars, lounges, dining rooms, and 53 grand bedrooms. On the ground floor is a spa, the only Aveda Destination Spa in Britain, where there’s a gym, steam room and sauna, treatment rooms, and a big pool.

The food is excellent, interesting dishes featuring venison, local lamb and produce, fresh seafood, rich desserts, and wonderfully creative presentation: My salmon last night came on a flat piece of slate, and the new chef, who comes from nearby Glasgow, uses curlicues of plants and other things for visual appeal that offer whimsical contrast to the wooden walls and high ceilings of the manor. It works, and tastes great.

Also on the property is the Earl of Mar golf course, the last one we played, which was a good thing given how we all did. But if your game is going to go south, this isn’t a bad course on which to lose it. Designed by Dave Thomas (probably best-known in America for the course at The Belfry, where the Ryder Cup is often played), the layout offers lots of room to hit errant shots without much trouble. There are great views along the Clyde—and on the first few holes of the soaring Erskine Bridge—as the holes run placidly downhill from the hotel to the river and back. There’s more than enough to keep it interesting—cleverly positioned trees, big bunkers, doglegs, moving greens—but likely no hard feelings at the end.

So despite a plethora of pitiful pop-ups, pitches, and putts, this group of warriors walked off the course only slightly battered. We all survived, no doubt already anxious to saddle up, clubs on our back, and head into battle again. Just maybe not too soon.

With that, I’m going to start packing—and preparing for a last, but celebratory, meal. The flight home will give me a chance to reflect on the week past, which means you can expect at least one more post with my observations very soon.

If you missed any of my earlier reports, or those from the rest of my Scottish foursome, please check out the website. And let us know what you think.

The list of great courses in Scotland is long: St. Andrews (of course), Muirfield, Carnoustie, Turnberry, Dornoch, North Berwick, Prestwick, etc. etc.

Allow me to add two more to any list registering in your head, places you really should play when you are next lucky enough to make it to the home of golf. Dundonald Links and Western Gailes. Much like the Machrihanish/Machrihanish Dunes tandem the Golf Road Warriors played a few days ago (although not nearly as close to each other), DL and WG show that there are outstanding new Scottish courses to try as well as lesser known old ones not to be missed.

Dundonald Links (above), on the Firth of Clyde, is about 30 miles southwest of Glasgow, very close to Troon and other notable layouts. It was designed by Kyle Phillips, who is also responsible for Kingsbarns near St. Andrews, another must-play modern layout. Phillips took the land that had been another course—Southern Gailes—and completely redid it, creating a true links course that looks and feels decades old but actually opened in 2003.

All this on land that was nearly pancake flat and sandwiched between an active railroad line and very unattractive paper mill. But the course is so good, moving in all directions so as to feel every possible wind, that any distractions are easily ignored. It’s very simple—no big dunes or crazy shots—and very pure. As a result, Dundonald has hosted countless notable events including qualifying tournaments for the European Tour and Senior British Open.

If you hadn’t heard of Dundonald before now that’s because it’s owned by the very private Loch Lomond Golf Club, which maintains it as a “city course,” easily accessed from Glasgow. Still owned by Loch Lomond, DL is open to the public every day and very welcoming to visitors. It would be a great first course, right off a plane into Glasgow Airport, of an extended Scotland golf tour: Not on the water, it’s still best played with a selection of links golf shots such as bump-and-runs and knockdowns into regular winds and big, undulating greens. There’s an ample practice area as well as a simple clubhouse with changing rooms, pro shop, and restaurant. You’re sure to enjoy it.

Just across the road from Dundonald Links sits Western Gailes (below), which has been a favorite of the golf cognoscenti for a long time. The course dates back to 1897, and while it might not have an exclusive architectural pedigree—as far as anyone can tell, it was originally laid out by the first greenkeeper, a Mr. Morris—it is a pure and perfect links course. As the very informative website says, “Initially the course was allowed to develop naturally from the terrain shaped by the ravages of nature.”

Stand on any of the holes, all with the Firth in view, and you truly understand the qualities of this kind of golf: rumpled turf with dunes of different sizes; low scrub and long grasses; a steady wind that can change from gentle breeze to howling gale (and drastically change direction) in a matter of minutes; and big, bouncy greens that are best approached with low running shots carefully calculated to follow the earth’s contours.

Western Gailes has got it all, but because it has never hosted the big tournaments like Open Championships, it hasn’t received the attention it deserves. Still, it recently held the Scottish Amateur and European Men’s Amateur Team championship, and is a regular site for Open and Senior Open qualifying. It’s that good. Maybe better. An incredible experience.

It’s also a private club with a marvelous old clubhouse filled with memorabilia—maps, photographs, books, and trophies among them. Many days the members are on hand in jacket and tie for lunch or an event. Don’t let the dress code scare you: They are proud to show off their club and course, tee it up with guests, and sit over a pint afterward and make new friends.

However, they are missing a golden opportunity: the shop is about the size of a broom closet with a limited offering of logoed merchandise. And you’ll probably want something to remember your day at Western Gailes, so go for a hat or ball marker with the distinctive club logo, two hands gripping two clubs. Like the course itself, the logo is both powerful and cool, and not soon forgotten.

The Golf Road Warriors Scotland trip is winding up. If you’ve missed any of it, all our articles are on the website.

So usually all the individuals have to concern themselves with are packing, playing, and precipitation.

The less said about playing, the better. Other than, if you come to Scotland expecting to play your usual game and shoot your usual scores you are missing the point. You’re over here to experience a different sort of golf, not only links golf if that’s your fancy, but often the ways of fine private clubs, caddies, and a more relaxed approach to the game. Of the last, one of the highlights used to include playing 18 in little more than three hours, but the “American game”—too many practice swings, yardage measurements, and grinding over two-footers—seems to have invaded the British Isles. We’re all the worse off for that.

As to packing, if it’s an art I’m a Philistine. I always bring too much and often of the wrong thing. I’m not sure what possessed me to bring a pair of non-waterproof shoes on this trip except that they are very lightweight. But whatever they weigh is irrelevant if the shoes are unwearable because my feet get soaked in them. I also brought too many short-sleeve golf shirts and not enough long-sleeved warm tops, forcing me to buy a few (although I never mind having an excuse to buy sweaters and logoed wear while here). And regardless of the state of my game, I pack too many golf balls, knowing they are ridiculously expensive outside the U.S. but always overly pessimistic regarding how many I’ll lose. And that’s important when carrying your own bag or giving it to a caddie. That said, a good rain suit like our Sun Mountain “weather cheaters” is a must (even when dry, it’s very effective in blocking the wind), and I’ve been happy the last few days with a pair of Etonic rain gloves I found in the golf closet and have worn almost religiously, on both hands, that have provided both grip and protection.

Finally, precipitation. For weeks beforehand, I check weather websites like they are the Oracle (they’re not). I try to decode the isobars and wind measurements. And on this trip, because we’re traveling with two locals—James Mason and David Whyte, from London and Dundee, respectively—we hang on every report from their smartphones of the latest forecasts. James, in particular, seems to revel in telling us that the rain will be heavy from 10am until noon, then lighten up, only to return for another 27 minutes, at which point we’ll be hit by a plague of locusts. I’m not sure what app he’s using but I wonder if it also reads tarot cards, picks stocks, and has a favorite in the third at Pimlico.

But sometimes the heavens can be, indeed, heavenly. If you had told me 24 hours ago that we’d play at all on the day just ended, I’d have laughed. All night long wind and rain lashed at the Marine Hotel in Troon, where we’ve been staying (more on it later). We all wished secretly, and then loudly, for a “lie-in.” But as warriors we soldiered on, and were rewarded with an absolutely splendid afternoon: At one point on the course at Western Gailes I can honestly say I was warm and removed a few layers for about 45 minutes as I soaked in the sun. It was glorious, as was the course itself.

More on that later, as well, since I’m writing this at 4:30 in the morning. That’s the other thing about golf-travel: Sleep, or the lack of it. I’m too tired to have anything intelligent on that subject. So I’ll get back into bed and hope to sleep on it.

Please keep following the wet and wild adventures of the Golf Road Warriors on our website.

I think that if you asked most Americans who’ve played golf in Scotland to name their favorite course, about 7 out of 10 would say Turnberry.

The Ailsa course—where Tom Watson beat Jack Nicklaus in the 1977 British Open, nicknamed the “duel in the sun”; where Greg Norman won his first major championship, in 1986; and where Watson nearly turned back time to win the Open Championship in 2009—is an absolutely magnificent layout, famous for its dunes, lighthouse, and brilliant setting along the Firth of Clyde.

So you would think that if a Golf Road Warrior, or any other golfer, were offered the chance to play the Ailsa, he would. But sometimes we have to take one for the team and sit it out. Let me explain.

The weather on Day 4 of our Scotland sojourn was, in a word, horrendous. Howling wind, pelting rain, bitter cold—the trifecta of yuckiness. Especially when one is looking at four or so hours carrying one’s own bag. This was my fourth visit to Turnberry and it seems as if every time I’ve been here, the weather has been awful. (Okay, that’s not really true, but the last time I played Ailsa I was bundled in so many layers I looked like the Michelin man with a baseball cap.)

Plus we’d had a five-hour ride from the Kintyre Peninsula after that crazy late night celebrating the re-opening of The Royal Hotel in Campbeltown. Honestly, as a Golf Road Warrior, sometimes I felt like a reservist. Or maybe 4-F. Battling the elements as well as my faulty swing just wasn’t going to happen. So I passed.

GRWs James Mason and David DeSmith played in the deluge and they are now my heroes. Anita Draycott and I chose to tackle the game in a different way, with a quick lesson in how to play links golf at Turnberry’s Colin Montgomerie Links Golf Academy. Situated next to the lovely clubhouse—which serves both the Ailsa and Kintyre courses—the academy features covered hitting bays as well as classrooms, shop, and TaylorMade Performance Lab for club-fitting. And while the pros there are happy to help fix any part of your game, their specialty is teaching golfers the shots particular to links golf, such as the low punch, bump-and-run, and long putts.

Anita and I spent about an hour with Michael Sweenie, a young Scottish pro who looks a little like Tour player Paul Casey. He started by explaining some of the fundamentals of playing the seaside courses, most of which deal with wind. The basics are to keep the ball low and to take as much spin off it as possible so it doesn’t upshoot or sideshoot, which is when the wind takes over and throws shots every which way. As Michael put it, “links golf is primarily played along the ground,” which means learning to hit it low and long. Straight helps, too.

The basics are fairly simple: 1) ball back in stance (although each person has to find his/her own best position); 2) create a stable base by standing a little wider and leaning the upper body slightly forward; and 3) a shorter, more compact swing. It sounds easy, and when Michael demonstrated, it was. But trying it myself—and worse, seeing the swing on video—proved slightly traumatic.

As I began to get the hang of it, Michael also said that it was likely the same basic tenets would help my full swing. Notably making a shorter, slower, less stressful swing. He was absolutely right (we talked a little about the bigger swing change I’m working on), and occasionally the two lessons nicely overlapped.

I also asked about hitting a lower, more punched driver: Michael said the swing changes are the same but also warned that such a play is very difficult for most golfers, who tend to hit their tee shots with way too much spin. And then we talked about judging the distance on low punch shots: “Yardage goes out the window on 99% of these shots,” he said. “You have to play the course.” In other words, it’s a matter of feel and scoping out the terrain in front of you.

We didn’t talk much about other shots, but I’ve certainly been hitting lots of little bump-and-runs and other low running chips while in Scotland. Again, the tasks are to look closely at the ground that needs to be covered, to choose the right club (usually one with much less loft than what we’d used a home for an air ball), and to make a slow and easy swing. It’s hitting those shots well that I find to be the most fun on a links course.

One shot we didn’t talk about—mostly because the weather conditions were so foul that we didn’t want to leave the warmth of the indoor hitting bay—was the escape from a pot bunker. But I already knew the answer to this one: If you find yourself in one of those nasty little hazards, just get out!

I’ll have the opportunity to try all these shots, and more, over the next two days as the Golf Road Warriors play two terrific links courses. But that’s to come. Right now the only lie I want to hit into has four pillows and a big, fluffy duvet.

For more on Golf Road Warriors Scotland, take a look at the website.

By opening Machrinhanish Dunes, Southworth Development, an American company, did more than just give the world a terrific new links course; it also gave Scotland’s Kintrye Peninsula—and the town of Campbeltown especially—reason to celebrate.

Along with the David McLay Kidd-designed course (that’s the 15th green, above), the Village of Machrihanish Dunes includes the restoration of two hotels: the Ugadale (shown below), which is about six miles from town and directly across the street from the 140-year-old Machrihanish Golf Club, and The Royal, in the heart of the little shipping village, which has definitely seen better times. Campbeltown was once a bustling market town, an agricultural center that supported dozens of whisky distilleries, both legal and not, 100 years ago. Over the last few decades, many big employers closed up shop, including a textile mill and naval base. Britain is already having an economic crisis, and local unemployment was becoming a major problem for the 8,000 area residents.

The refurbished hotels and new course are adding 100 jobs, with more to come. But just as important, they are also adding a sense of pride. These businesses are the sort that brings tourists—not only golfers but boaters, hikers, campers, and others—and the tourists will bring attention to the bucolic region, its green hills and small farms busy with grazing sheep and cows (the local cheeses are outstanding).

Our visit coincided with the official reopening of The Royal Hotel, which has stood on the same spot since 1906. After a gala dinner, the guests were treated to a display of fireworks over Campbeltown Harbor that was attended by thousands of locals, as well. The oohs and aahs weren’t just for the pyrotechnics but for the welcome signs of rebirth and optimism. There were also tears, cheers, and a sustained round of applause, then many rounds of liquid refreshment into the wee small hours.

Golfers who come to the area are sure to cheer, too. Machrinhanish Dunes, in play just four years, is a broad-shouldered links course. When it first opened, it was criticized as being too hard; softening has brought more tees, trimmed rough, widened fairways, and other enhancements. Many of the walks between greens and tees and from tees into fairways have been shortened, but they are still lengthy as well as up-and-down; shouldering one’s bag or push/pulling a hand cart is a good day’s exercise. (There are “buggies” for those with medical exemptions, but some of their routes must swing far around the dunes and other natural features.) It’s a very good course, with blind tee shots, greens tucked into natural dells, and the need to negotiate countless hilly lies and a steady wind.

Comparisons to the Old Tom Morris-designed Machrihanish (the two layouts abut along their backsides) are inevitable but somewhat unfair. The older course drips with tradition and the kind of charm and character that only a century-plus of play can imbue. The newer course looks and feels, well, newer: Purists who scoff at its pretensions are missing the point.

My only complaint is the long walks, many of which were forced by ecological concerns. Mach Dunes is home to a few varieties of rare orchids and moths, so a number of holes had to be routed well out of their way. And in making the best use of the terrain, Kidd roams over a large part of the 260-acre tract, although the tees, fairways, and greens total only seven acres.

While Kidd himself was not in attendance (I‘m a big fan of some of his other courses, notably the original course at Bandon Dunes and Huntsman Springs in Idaho), his father, Jimmy, was there. A well-known golf pro who has been associated with top resorts in Europe and elsewhere, the elder Kidd made an excellent point comparing the two courses: “Machrihanish Dunes looks today the way Machrihanish Old did when Old Tom finished it. Come back in 100 years and let me know what you think.”

I intend to. In the meantime, I strongly suggest you don’t wait that long. You’ll play two outstanding courses, and be warmly received by a sincerely grateful populace.

There’s more about all this, and the rest of the Golf Road Warriors’ Scotland escapade, on the Scotland GRW website.

Beatles fans might remember that the real “long and winding road” is a motorway—the A83—that runs the length of the Kintyre Peninsula. Paul McCartney still has a house in these parts, and it was here that he holed up for a while after John Lennon was murdered. The remoteness makes the area perfectly suited for seclusion.

Today, Paul and John’s “winding” was replaced by “windy,” with a brisk and steady 35mph (our conservative estimate) wind making the round at the wonderful old Machrihanish Golf Club much more difficult, but also more thrilling.

Machrihanish is one of those magical places that well-traveled golfers talk about, not as well known as the likes of St. Andrews and Muirfield, nor the same caliber of test, but a wonderful walk through low, running dunes with the ocean always tickling the senses even if not always in view. The front side is especially memorable, beginning with one of the game’s great opening tee shots, over the beach and a piece of Machrihanish Bay (that’s the view from the first tee, above). It’s not a very long drive, even in the wind, but it’s not unusual to do what I did: land on the beach and hit back into play from the hard-packed sand. Countless thousands have had to do the same, as the course dates back to 1876, when it was designed by Old Tom Morris.

The combination of wind, long grass, rumpled ground, and low dunes makes for an unparalleled golf experience, a connoisseur’s delight virtually from start to finish. “Virtually” because the final two holes—wide open and nearly featureless (but very long in today’s wind)—are little more than the requisite path back to the modest clubhouse, which was doing a brisk business in knit caps and sweaters. But the round was dry, invigorating, and totally charming. Machrihanish is not to be missed, and with the recent opening of Machrihanish Dunes, which abuts its much older brother, this somewhat remote tip of land should land on more golfers’ itineraries.

Passage over from the mainland has been made easier and quicker with the launching a few years back of the Kintyre Express, a fast-ferry service from the western coast of Scotland near Turnberry. Otherwise, the drive has to be up and over, more than 5 hours, the “long and winding road” the Fab Four sang about. And it looks as if that’s how the Golf Road Warriors will be getting back across in a few days since the weather forecast is none too good, making a water crossing slightly perilous. But that’s a few days away.

Besides the two golf courses, the other principal attraction in the area is Campbeltown, a sweet but fraying village of a few thousand. Back nearly 200 years ago, Campbeltown was one of the country’s whisky distilling centers, its spirits famed for their slightly salty taste, which locals say is the result of the air. There were nearly 40 legal distilleries in the 1820s, and hundreds of illegal ones. Today there are just two, both part of the Springbank Distillery, which offers tastings of its many offerings. The comparison of different types and ages is fascinating—don’t miss the 15-year-old—especially when paired with the local Mull of Kintrye cheddar, oat cakes and smoked salmon, even chocolate (a surprisingly brilliant combination). Springbank also operates a shop in town where all its bottlings are for sale, including some extremely rare ones that go for thousands of pounds. The libation exploration is a most satisfying way to spend an hour or so, followed by some poking around town.

Tomorrow we play Machrihanish Dunes and attend the grand re-opening of Campbeltown’s Royal Hotel, which has been lovingly restored by the same people who built the course and the Village at Machrihanish Dunes, Southworth Development from Boston. The festivities are supposed to include fireworks over Campbeltown Harbor, but unless the wind dies down I’m worried about skyrockets landing in the village, and with all that whisky around, it could be a potentially explosive situation.

For more on the exploits of the Golf Road Warriors in Scotland, check out the rest of our website.

I’d forgotten about the not-so-friendly effects of jet lag when crossing the Atlantic to play golf. Flying to Glasgow from New York isn’t quite long enough to take an Ambien, so the “natural sleep” is only a few hours. One of my fellow warriors suggests the first day in Scotland be spent playing golf, topped off by a little drinking and a big meal, which will be followed by a slumber not unlike death. Good idea if one can manage to play anything resembling real golf right off the plane(s), which as my story from yesterday showed—admittedly impaired by the weather—was not possible. But I appreciate the sympathy.

Let me make two more middle-of-the-night (I think) observations.

First, Scotland is no place to work on a swing change. I recently received a lesson that has me trying to swing both shorter and slower, two alterations that are akin to the efforts North Korea’s Kim Jong Un would have to undertake to win the Nobel Peace Prize. After one successful round in a warm clime last week, I learned that for the time being I need at least a few minutes of pre-round warm-up to “groove” the new and improved motion.

On its best days, Scotland is a tough place to find a driving range. In the wind and cold and swaddled in rain gear and extra sweaters, even practice ranges don’t produce an authentic, normal motion. And on two hours of airplane sleep? Those are my combined excuses for the bad swings yesterday (Day 1). Which isn’t to say I didn’t make a few good ones, which I did and which prove to me that I’m on the right track. But I was reminded, yet again, that the track is a long one.

Second observation regards the Sun Mountain ClubGlider travel cover I brought along. Another fellow warrior, David DeSmith, has sung rhapsodic about the cover—which features a second set of wheels that drop down from the middle of the bag making it incredibly easy to roll around.

I used the bag for the first time to and from California last week and again to Scotland this week. The thing is amazing! Like David, I was able to stuff it with shoes, rain gear, and extra balls (although not, I fear, enough!). But it’s the pair of wheels that extend from the belly of the beast—and I’ve long compared traveling with a golf bag to transporting a dead body—that makes all the difference. Maybe this innovation isn’t quite as earth-shattering as water desalination or the iPhone, but it’s a big deal to golfers. Why did it take so long to discover?

Makes me think there are many other great ideas out there waiting to improve the golfer’s lot. (I’ll restrict my current thinking to that narrow niche; there will be more time for world-peace proposals later in the trip, I’m sure.) The ClubGlider gives me hope for the future of the game.

I just hope it can do something for the future of MY game, too.

Among the saddest things a traveling golfer can hear is, “You should have been here last week.” Or in the case of the Golf Road Warriors, yesterday. Too many people told us how nice it was on the Kintyre Peninsula yesterday, a sharp contrast to the cold, wet day we flew into.

There was no aerial view of Glasgow until we were touching down at the airport, and the co-pilot/steward of the puddle-jumper that flew us from Glasgow to Campbeltown (and who was wearing a Foot-Joy glove because, she said, they don’t make small women’s flying gloves, whatever a flying glove is!) apologized because the view is usually terrific coming over. Today? Nothing but clouds all the way.

Running on just a few hours of airplane sleep, I joined a hearty foursome at soggy, cold, and windy Dunaverty Golf Club, at the southeastern tip of the peninsula. A short but sporty layout—moving up and down along a long stretch of beach—it would have been the perfect warm-up course for the rest of the adventure if there were anything warm about it. In the first battle, Mother Nature trounced this Golf Road Warrior. It wasn’t even close.

I admit it, I gave up after about six holes due to oncoming exhaustion and a poor choice of shoes, which were taking on more water than the Titanic. But my Sun Mountain Torrent rain suit kept me bone-dry from neck to ankles. I could have used a ski hat, and did wear rain gloves, which got soaked but gripped the club well enough that I can’t blame them for my poor shots. (I’m going to have to figure out how to not hit everything high and right in the blustery winds.)

Dunaverty, which dates back to 1889 (and has the emphasis on the second syllable—dun-AH-verty), supposedly offers marvelous views on a sunny day. When the clouds vanish (which, the steward swore to me, does happen, and as the photo above attests), it’s possible to see across the Firth of Clyde to Turnberry and Ailsa Craig, as well as Northern Ireland. The course and club are rustic in that authentic British way, nothing more than a challenging little course (par 66 and barely 5,000 yards without the wind) and a bare-bones clubhouse that’s a nice place to dry off with a coffee and a snack while waiting for the ride back to the hotel.

Ah, the hotel. We are billeted at The Ugadale, on the edge of the Village at Machrihanish Dunes, next door to the original Machrihanish Golf Club. There’s been a small hotel on the site since 1878, and after numerous fires and rebuilds, it’s been lovingly brought it back to former glory but with all the modern trimmings, including pubs, restaurants, a spa, fitness center, cottages, and 22 luxurious rooms and suites.

It’s where I’m typing this from, straining to keep my eyes open but waiting just a little longer until it’s time to try a few local single malts, dine, then sleep. Tomorrow promises a round at Machrihanish (the weather forecast is much more welcoming) and a tour of the Springbank Distillery.

Golf and whisky. Scotland’s greatest gifts. But with both, I like to go easy on the water.

My first boss in the magazine business hated the word “mecca.” Not the city, necessarily, but using the word to describe a travel destination. Because it was—and is—overused.

That said, I don’t know of another term that quite captures why golfers go to Scotland. Even if it isn’t where the game began—the Scots will get heated arguments, with good evidence, from the Dutch, the French, even the Chinese—it is where it became the direct precursor to what we play today. From shepherds using crooks to hit stones into rabbit holes on rolling, wind-swept, sea-shorn turf, golf is as Scottish as the finest single-malt whisky. And just as special.

Just as baseball fans visit Cooperstown and Fenway Park, foodies circum-appetite the globe’s top restaurants, and climbers tackle Everest, golfers make pilgrimages to the great courses of Scotland. Which, I’m happy to say, I’m about to do in a few days.

A handful of writers from The A Position—known collectively as the Golf Road Warriors—will land on the shores of western Scotland in a few days. In little more than a week we’ll play at least seven courses; stay in three hotels; be chauffeured around in a Perry Golf bus; test different golf products; sample way too much whisky; and otherwise partake of Scotland’s greatest gifts.

I’m excited about this trip because it’s to the western side of the country, centering on Campbeltown, a lovely little town near the tip of the Kintyre Peninsula, a slender finger of land tickling Scotland’s left side. Besides joining in the reopening celebration for the Royal Hotel, we’ll be experiencing the wonderful courses and amenities at the Village at Machrihanish Dunes, where the new David McLay Kidd golf course (that’s it above) sits close to the infamous old Tom Morris design. We’ll be all over the Machrihanish metroplex, its clubs and hotels, pubs, distilleries, and grilles, and especially its links.

From the peninsula we’ll take the Kintyre Express ferry across the Firth of Clyde to some other well-known golf venues, including Turnberry, Dundonald Links, Dunaverty, Western Gailes, and Mar Hall Resort. We’ll document it all at the Golf Road Warriors website.

This is not my first visit to that side of Scotland, but that’s another feature of the golf pilgrimage, returning to sites already seen and reacquainting oneself with the game’s traditions and landmarks. In our traditional garb (notably Sun Moutanin rainwear, which, according to the forecast, will get a workout) and shouldering our weapons, we will be like historical re-enactors, marching into battle as golfers have done for centuries on the same soil. Of course we hope to make new history, hitting better shots and recording better scores. But in reality we are there to enjoy these hands-on museums, to enjoy the fact that golf allows us—like no other game—to play where so many have before us.

I hope you’ll tag along.