A Hilarious Game of Golf

I rise early enough to be first in the shower because I know the bathroom I'm using is shared with other guests. We have asked for early breakfast because we have a nine o'clock tee time at the golf course up the hill. We sit in the big dining room and Fiona comes in to greet us and confirm that we'd like bacon and eggs with breakfast. We have a little cereal, fruit, and yogurt while we wait, and she comes back with a miniature full Scottish breakfast. For once, it is a reasonable amount of food and is quite tasty. Two other guests come in and sit at the table next to us, a pleasant Scottish couple about 30 years our senior. Our host comes in again and brings up the monarchy in a somewhat abrupt and awkward way, and she is clearly pro-monarchy. This is the first time the subject has come up beyond mention of how the Queen's funeral has perturbed the normal business of things. When she leaves the room again, the Scottish woman at the next table says, "I wasn't sure which way that was going to go," and we all laugh. It is clear that she and her husband opine differently in that regard. As we chat, we learn they've just come from Orkney, where we'll be in a couple of days, and that they share our love for archeology. They wish us good weather and their recommendations make us even more excited about that leg of our trip.

Holly Lodge dining room

We excuse ourselves to get ready for golf. Fiona lends us a set of clubs and a dozen or so golf balls and we set out. We arrive at the closed golf club and have to wait around for several minutes past our tee time before anyone even shows up to open it. The employee is apologetic, however, and gets us on our way as quickly as possible. What ensues next is probably the funnest game of golf I've ever played.

Let me start by saying I haven't golfed in almost ten years, but did a fair bit when I was a kid. I was only ever just barely adequate at it. I'm not particularly athletic or competitive, so even when I play sports, I don't really care how I do. This game is no different. I know I am going to be awful, but I am here for the experience. The course itself is gorgeous, and has the backdrop of the vast Scottish highlands in every direction. It is incredibly hilly and, although each hole is fairly short, they are all deceivingly difficult. I decide rather quickly that I'm not even going to bother keeping score. We lose at least half of the balls Fiona lent us, almost one per hole, and ultimately end up playing a scramble-type game where the person who hits worst (usually me) drops their ball where the person who hit the best has landed. Taylor golfs reasonably well, and I have a couple good drives and one really great long putt. The weather is stunning, and we see pheasants and red squirrels. We laugh, we swear, we goof around. I have worn the wrong shoes and they are soaked through up to my ankles by the time we finish. We head back to the clubhouse to buy some balls to replace all the ones we've lost. It is a great time.

A glorious day for golf

Smashing form

An actual good golfer

How we played

How much fun we had

We return to our lodge, where I set my shoes and socks to dry on the radiator in my room. We then wait for a mechanic to come check out our rental car, which has been lurching in a concerning fashion. The fucking car drama on this trip, I swear to god... The mechanic comes, politely listens to our concerns, and then leans under the hood to examine the engine, exposing his butt crack. Ultimately, he shrugs and says there's nothing he can do and will put in a recommendation to Enterprise to swap our car for another. I call both branches in nearby Inverness, and they tell me they are out of cars and can't help. Oh well, I guess we'll keep going until it won't run anymore.

Next we drive to Inverness anyway, because Taylor has an appointment to be fitted for a custom kilt. As we're exiting our car in a public lot, a van catches my eye because it's from the same garage as the mechanic who just inspected our car. In the next instant, Taylor and both I notice man bent over and examining a broken-down car, butt crack well exposed. We exchange a knowing look. "I'd recognize that butt crack anywhere," Taylor says quietly.

Our destination, Ben Wyvis Kilts, is just a short walk away. We spend a good hour there while the friendly and helpful staff attend to Taylor. He reviews tartan patterns, has his measurements taken, and is guided through selecting the appropriate accessories. I know almost nothing about kilts, so it is an informative experience for me. His beautiful, made-to-order kilt will arrive by mail in a couple of months.

Taylor is fitted with a sample kilt

After we're done there, we wander a bit in Inverness. It's a dark, cloudy day, which makes the city look a bit dreary. The looming cloud cover matches the slate gray stone of all the architecture here. There appears to be a church every quarter mile or so, numerous ornate steeples looming tall above the tightly-packed neighboring buildings. As we explore, we stop into several tourist trap-type shops to look for souvenirs and have lunch at a pizzeria overseen by a surly Italian chef.

Inverness in grayscale

We then return to our lodge. Many more guests have arrived today and the parking lot is full. The afternoon has been warm, so the bees in the garden are swarming. We approach to watch them for a few minutes.

Taylor gets a closer look at the bees

We haven't really explored the tiny village, so we head out for a walk. We only have to go as far as the bottom of the hill from where our lodge is to find the bustling central hub of the village. And by "bustling central hub" I mean a deli, an ice cream stand, a pharmacy, and a convenience store. Outside the deli is a portable trailer bar with four types of beer on tap. Taylor orders one and we sit for a while. Soon an English couple from Darbyshire and their cute dog come and occupy the table next to us. We end up spending a couple of hours chatting with them about travel, tipping customs, and the politics of Brexit and other nationalistic movements like it. All in all, it's a pleasant way to end the day.

Hanging at the beer trailer