To Be Without

by Alex McCauley

Being continuously surrounded by the most tangible golf culture in the world has spoiled me. Both at home in Pennsylvania and even more so in my temporary home of St Andrews. Every time I walk through the “auld grey town” to class I can feel golf’s roots seeping deeper into my soul. If golf wasn’t essential to my life before, it undoubtedly is now. To have that be stripped away would certainly endanger my sanity, so I decided to try it, willingly.

During my recent independent learning week (University code for vacation), I checked off an item on my bucket list: visiting the Faroe Islands. It is a truly unbelievable place, unlike anything I have ever seen. There is beauty in every step, ripping wind, and rain, but it is without golf. At least, much less than St Andrews. 

If you live in a town of 55,000 (someplace like New Brunswick, NJ), imagine being thrown onto an island in the unforgiving North Atlantic with those people. Oh, and your weekly peaceful escape on the golf course disappears. Nightmarish? Potentially. This is a glimpse into life on the islands, small communities surrounded by sheep, cows, and cliffs. With one-lane mountain tunnels, and more scenic view stops than anywhere I’ve ever seen. But no hyperreal golf courses to drive past and fawn over. No access to Merion’s pro shop on a random Tuesday, nothing of the sort.

I think we take it for granted, the access we have to golf. In the Philadelphia area alone we can easily drive to almost 200 courses, play them, and return home before dinner. You may think citizens of isolated nations, some similar to Faroe, would envy us. But their leisure stems from other activities. The Faroese fish, they knit, they care for their animals and land. They get to show people their beautiful country. I believe this is what we mere mortals should be envious of, this kind of true tranquility. Golf’s tranquility is often impermanent. Traffic on the drive back or a high bar bill snaps you back to reality, and then you have to wait until your next round to experience that short-term bliss again. The cycle continues.

I have to be honest. On the outskirts of the capital city of Tórshavn, there is a very small golf club. I didn’t discover this until after I returned to Scotland. From the sampling of photos online it looks like a quaint, dramatic, seaside course. How golf was meant to be played. There are plans to create a full-scale course over the coming years to boost tourism and local interest. I can’t wait to return to a place that probably doesn’t need golf but might be better with it.

For most of you reading this, it is an incredible privilege for you to have such simple access to the game. But don’t feel bad for the lovely Faroese people. They pity us for not knowing how to knit.