View from 18th tee

I’m not sure I should be writing this. I may well be ostracised from the South Wales region of the Golf Societies Organisers. As with a number of organisations there is a certain amount of information that is classified. The Rolls of Monmouth is one of those pieces of classified information. It is the venue where a number of golf societies come for a special treat – usually the final outing of the year. But don’t tell anyone else – it’s confidential.

There are many reasons the Rolls of Monmouth is exceptional – the course, obviously but much, much more. There’s the location, probably one of the finest parts of country. It is set in the Monnow Valley, close to the town of Monmouth, at the confluence of the rivers Wye, Monnow and Trothy with spectacular views of the Black Mountains. The thousand year old market town of Monmouth and the story of The Rolls, contain a wealth of history – ancient and modern, drama, danger, death and destruction.

The market town of Monmouth dates back to the time of Roman settlement in Britain. Monmouth, just a few miles west of the English border has been the scene of a number of bloody encounters between the English and the Welsh throughout its history. The town was destroyed in the Battle of Monmouth and although not directly involved in the Glyndwr rebellion was an important stronghold. Notable features of the town include the only Norman fortified bridge remaining in Britain and the 12^th century castle overlooking the River Monnow. This castle, developed by Henry of Grosmont, 1^st Duke of Lancaster in the early 14^th century was the birthplace of Henry V in 1387. Geoffrey of Monmouth, educated at a Benedictine monastery in the was the author of a number of books including a fictitious history of Great Britain, Historia Regum Britanniae (1136), which included legends of King Arthur and King Lear.

If you follow the winding B4233 road to Abergavenny, west of Monmouth for a few miles you pass through the tiny village of Rockfield and the innocuous building that is the legendary Rockfield recording studios. Opened in the mid sixties as the first residential recording studio in the world it has been host to some of the finest artists of the past 40 years including Queen, Mike Oldfield, Adam and the Ants, Simple Minds, Manic Street Preachers, Nigel Kennedy, The Stone Roses, Coldplay, etc etc. A little further along the road and you will arrive at the impressive Rolls of Monmouth Golf Club.

As you enter the estate you will be overwhelmed by two aspects – the trees and the tranquillity, and then stunned by the magnificence of the Hendre Mansion House. The house was owned by the Rolls family from 1767 until 1987. John Rolls, MP for Monmouthshire 1880 to 1885 and later became 1st Baron Llangattock, bought a shooting lodge on this site at the beginning of the 19^th century. Over the next 200 years John and his descendants expanded and developed the house and garden to form the magnificent 900-acre estate as it is today.

The stone clubhouse is the former workshop and garage of Charles Stewart Rolls, co-founder of Rolls Royce Company. Charles Stewart Rolls was a remarkable man. He was a man with a real passion for speed and danger. Born in 1877 he was part of the late Victorian / Edwardian era of technological innovation. In 1904 he teamed up with Frederick Henry Royce and co-founded Rolls-Royce manufacturing firm. However his passion changed to flight and after a career as a balloonist he gaining his flying licence in 1903 (second licence granted in Britain) he became the first person to cross the channel in both directions in one flight. This passion for flying ultimately led to his death in a flying accident at Bournemouth. He was aged just 32 and was the first Briton to be killed in a flying accident. He is buried in the church at Llangattock-Vibbon-Avel, a mile from the estate. In the 1980s the estate passed from the Rolls family. In 1982 Ubis Planning designed and built the superb, classic parkland golf course.

The course is a mixture of old and new, traditional and modern. The course looks and feels mature. The course is set in mature parkland with huge oaks and mature avenues of trees. The route feels well-established as it winds it’s way around the immense estate. There are also modern aspects in that there are few blind shots on the course and each of the holes are different and have real character. This is perfectly illustrated in the par 3s. There are four par 3s – all very different to each other. The first, the 4^th hole is a fairly straightforward 167 yard shot to a tight green surrounded by bunkers. The 13^th, a downhill 190 yard to a long narrow green tricks you into believing once you’ve hit the green you’re job is over – it isn’t. The green is extremely tricky and the final hole, of which more later.

One of the things that strikes you when playing the course is the quiet. There could be a number of golfers out but there is rarely any noise. There is so much space and the holes so clearly defined that you feel you could be the only ones playing. The reason is the way the large 900 acres estate has been used. A number of courses in South East Wales valleys, seem claustrophobic. There is the feeling of restriction The courses have been built on sparse land and there is, naturally limited space. Tees and greens are pushed back to the edges of the courses. With this comes the feeling of constraint and limitation. The Rolls has space, lots of space, too much space. It’s nerve racking. It’s almost agoraphobic to a Welsh valley’s golfer like me – but in a nice way.

The true secret of the Rolls of Monmouth golf course however are the greens. The greens are always perfectly maintained and immaculate. They are extremely difficult, fast but fair. Simon Aston, golf professional at the club believes these are the strengths of the course. He maintains that, “the greens offer the best possible protection for the course”. This is one of the reasons the course doesn’t need a mass of bunkers around each green, or excessively tight pin positions. Golfers need to think carefully about every shot. It’s not enough to get on the green and assume you will 2-putt. You need to think carefully about where you want to be on the green. The whole of the course needs careful management. It’s a course you need to play a number of times to get to grips with. It’s the reason that when you finish a round you can’t wait until the next time you play it. It’s a course where you need to keep learning, in order to keep score well.

The round culminates with the par 3, 18^th. Standing on the tee you see the final flag 224 yards in front of you over a lake with the historic manor house forming the backdrop. This is perhaps the most dramatic, and dangerous, finishing hole in Wales.

You have to hit your shot between trees on the left and a stream on the right, over a small pond onto a fantastic green. The setting is superb and a fitting finale for a challenging, thoughtful, wonderful round of golf.

The Rolls of Monmouth Golf Club
The Hendre,
Monmouth, Monmouthshire NP25 5HG
Wales

www.therollsgolfclub.co,uk

Golf professional - Simon Aston

Office manager – Linda Kedward

6733 yards par 72

Not a bunker problem you’ll encounter at Tredegar and Rhymney G.C.

Playing golf in Wales is not a natural thing to do. For my Saturday morning ball school encounter I look out and it’s too wet, too cold, too foggy, too snowy, too icy and too early.

I suspect I would attend far more Saturday meetings if Wales had the same climate as Qatar – although I suspect there would be Saturdays where I’d complain that it is too hot, too sandy, too dry, too difficult to play out of the bunkers.

So I settle down to watch the golf from the Doha Golf Club feeling guilty, imagining those hearty souls out there wrapped up and moaning – and I do miss it – not actually enough to join them – but I do miss it. There is also the fact that it will now cost me money for not turning up. I feel the shame of not being there – why aren’t I as macho as the others? Perhaps it’s because I’m older than many of them, apart from Keith, or because I’m a softie office worker. Whatever the reason I look out of the window, sigh and get out my daughter’s Tiger Woods Wii game and pretend I’m doing the next best thing. Well at least I’m practicing aren’t I?

The Tiger Woods’ game is getting more and more realistic now. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next version comes out with gloves that make your fingers cold and a magic hat that makes it feel like it’s raining and special glasses that mist up whenever you make your backswing. There may even be headphones included that start talking to you whenever you’re about to hit your putt, or give you unwelcome advice when you hit your tee shot in the trees. I’ve heard in the next version there’s a facility where you need to root around looking for your virtual ball in the virtual rough of all the major golf courses in the world. This would make it truly realistic.

So, perhaps Wales isn’t the best country in the world for golf. It doesn’t seem to be that good for producing world class players. It’s hardly surprising is it? - especially the South Eastern valleys. I blame climatology and topography. Years of cold, stinging, horizontal rain will have had a devastating effect on the swing and the temperament of our top golfers. Centuries of narrow, squeezed river valleys will surely have an adverse effect on their chipping and putting. The parallel Rhymney, Sirhowy and Ebbw rivers with their enclosed cultures, vicious sheep and harsh environments will influence the mentality of the golfers trapped within. There are villages north of Tredegar as remote, as inhospitable, and as dangerous to missionaries as any outlying Amazonian villages. This will surely have an impact on our talented young golfers, their traditions, their dress sense and their approach shots.

It is no surprise that our best golfers get a little confused when faced with beautiful weather, immaculate courses and NO RAIN.

I’m starting a 3 month stint asking people around the UK the question;

“What matters most in people’s lives.”

An interesting thought and one I’m sure there will be a great deal of different opinions about.

For us golfers what would we like? (SPLIT INTO GROUPS AND DISCUSS)

Follow my progress on twitter as I roam the country talking to everyone  (unfortunately not much time for golf).

I will be in your area soon - Swindon 26 / 27 /28 January - List of more proposed dates to follow.

Contact me - meet me - tweet me - let’s go out for a drink

: twitter.com/byronlk

get more information on the O.N.S. website;

http://www.ons.gov.uk/well-being/index.html

BHUTAN already has a societal well being index called Gross National Happiness;

http://www.grossnationalhappiness.com/

read it - it’s superb

Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, was playing golf at St Andrews a few days after the death of her husband, Lord Darnley the previous Sunday (10^th). Life was pretty shit for her. She had returned to Scotland from France and her Scottish subjects didn’t seem to appreciate the sacrifices she had made. There was even talk that she was implicated in her husband’s murder. On top of that she was having a bad round and needed cheering up.

She had just three-putted the easy 9^th and her drive at the long tenth had ended up in the long, thick purple thistles. Her caddies had been sent in to find it and she’s set her watch for 5 minutes. Having found it she had hacked out then managed to hit her approach to the front of the long double green. She played well normally and had an advantage over many of her opponents – she was considerably taller, almost 6 feet, and so generated a fair amount of power, she had played a good deal of golf in France and Scotland. Also she was Queen. This tended to work in her favour when raising her eyes at her opponent looking for a three feet gimmee.

She walked toward the green with her company of courtiers, doctors, advisors , media consultants, psychologists, astrologers and cooks. She was nearing the ball when suddenly James Hepburn, 5th Earl of Bothwell approached her on horseback. He had a rod in his hand. It looked like a putter.

“Where did you find this?” she asked as he presented it to her.

“It’s local. It’s a present, your majesty from your loyal priest here at St Andrews.“

“Really?” she said as she held it and practiced a few swings.

“It has a history your Majesty, and he really would like it returned to the church.”

She sank the 44 feet put. Unsurprisingly the club was never returned.

]]> http://byronkalies.com/wp/2011/01/mary-mary/feed/ http://byronkalies.com/wp/2011/01/the-story-of-golf-iii-oengus-son-of-fergus-tyrannical-slaughterer/ http://byronkalies.com/wp/2011/01/the-story-of-golf-iii-oengus-son-of-fergus-tyrannical-slaughterer/#comments Sun, 02 Jan 2011 16:29:47 +0000 Byron Kalies http://byronkalies.com/wp/?p=1030

Saint Regulus sailed for many years from Constantinople. He had many adventures before he was finally shipwrecked off the coast of Scotland.

At the same time King Oengus, son of Fergus, had been having a terrible few years. As King of the Picts he seemed to be was constantly at war with Ireland, England and Wales. He was in Civil War with other Picts, fighting Northumbrians and the Gaels. Things weren’t going too well and he was psychologically exhausted. Being a ‘tyrannical slaughterer’ was hard work.

One night he had a vision of a company of angels who promised to send him an apostle of Christ to defend and guard him.

The following morning Oengus and Regulus met on the beach.

“Finally I’ve arrived in Wales” Regulus announced.

“Uh, yes. said Oengus, “We’ve been expecting you.”

“You must be called Oengus, son of Fergus, named after the Celtic god of love and beauty; patron deity of young men and women.”

“Ah yes. That would be me.” Oengus replied, “But there is a reason I’ve been looking out for you?”

“How so?” asked Regulus warily.

“Last night I had a vision” the king announced.

Regulus’ heart sank. The last time he’d heard that sentence was four years ago and in the four years he’d endured all manner of hell sailing from Constantinople.

“Yes, A company of angels appeared to me telling me to build a church to keep the relics and staff of Andrew. They told me you would bring his bones and his club. I am to accept these from you, defeat all my enemies and build a magnificent church at Kilriment.” continued Oengus.

“Kilriment in Wales?”

“Uh yes that’s right.”

And so it came to pass as the angel with the sceptre at Constantinople had promised. Oengus prospered and built a church for Regulus at Kilrimont, Fife. Later called St Andrews.

]]> http://byronkalies.com/wp/2011/01/the-story-of-golf-iii-oengus-son-of-fergus-tyrannical-slaughterer/feed/ http://byronkalies.com/wp/2010/12/the-story-of-golf-ii-the-emperor-constantine-awakes/ http://byronkalies.com/wp/2010/12/the-story-of-golf-ii-the-emperor-constantine-awakes/#comments Fri, 17 Dec 2010 12:17:06 +0000 Byron Kalies http://byronkalies.com/wp/?p=1020

“Regulus, my favourite monk. I’ve had a dream.”
“Emperor what is it?”
“It’s a series of mental images and emotions occurring during sleep. I thought you would have known that”
“I do know that. I mean – describe it,the dream, to me.”
“An angel appeared holding a sceptre looking like a walking stick and a very small white orb.”
“And…”
“And he told me we had to move Andrew.”
“What? Why?”
“The angel dropped the orb, hit it with the sceptre and said that we had to deliver the relics to the West, in the utmost part of the known world.’”
“The angel told you that you had to move the relics to the most distant, uninhabitable part of the world.”
“No. Not me – you.”
“I should have guessed. So I’m off to Wales then.”
“Yes.”
“Did the angel mention anything else?”
“Yes. You must take Andrew’s holy rod with you.”
“The stick he was buried with?.”
“Yes.”
“Did the angel mention anything else?”
“Just one thing. Beware the one they call Daly.”
Regulus set sail that very evening.

“So, what was he like then, as a boss?”
“Good. A bit quiet, but really good to work for.”
“In what way?”
“Well. He just left you alone to get on with really. Trust. He trusted you totally. What more would you want in a leader?”
“Nothing…sounds good. You were the first weren’t you?”
“I was. Probably alphabetic”, he laughed
“….. and now the last.” he sighed.
It had been a hard ten years but now it was nearly over. The clouds were dark and the sea looked angry. They had been a month in Patras and their journey was coming to an end.
They walked further along the seafront towards the rocks. Andrew bent over to pick up a longish piece of driftwood and started examining it.
“Gopher Wood.” he announced
“Wasn’t that the wood from the ark?”
“It  was,” announced Andrew as he started swinging it.  Maximilla found some circular pebbles and before long the pair were hitting the pebbles along the deserted beach. The sun had appeared through the clouds and it seemed like this was the final perfect moment.

Suddenly the moment of peace and tranquillity was ruined as the wind sprung up and the waves crashed against the rocks they were walking on. Aegeas and twenty one men soldiers rushed forward and grabbed Andrew. They began dragging him away toward a decussate cross. He leaned over to Maximilla and resigned to his fate, whispered, “Remember these last moments”

The Mystery Surrounding the Museum of Childhood Memories was never solved

The year of the inaugural Rider Cup saw the advent of the SMBS or to give it it’s full title the MBGC SMBS.

The original members were Ianto Rider, Fred the Bread (local baker), Aneurin Bevan and Keith. Over time most of the personnel have changed but the principles of fair play, respect, camaraderie and fairness are as distant today as they were nearly a century ago. This is Welsh valley’s golf. It’s not pretty, and it’s not English, It’s rough, raw and a bit sweary.

Every Saturday since 1926 there has been a Saturday morning ball school, apart from a brief period in 1941 when German bombers rendered the course unplayable. As a memorial to the war the course remains as it was after that day - harsh, unplayable, with a dozen 40 feet bomb craters lining the 5th fairway.

The principle rule of the SMBS is turn up, moan, pay up. Although it is now possibly illegal to pay for cash and still be considered an amateur there are members of the SMBS (well one) that has had to declare the SMBS as his primary source of income for tax purposes. The Club is fairly catholic in that any player born within a radius of almost 3 miles from the club, has a relative, or friend played and is willing to lose £1 a week for the first 6 months can take part. Under these restrictions it would be difficult to get a person non-eligible as it is a truism that there are only 3 degrees of separation between any Welsh person - fact.

There are rules, I suppose, although they tend to vary from week to week. There is however one constant - fun. You’re not allowed to have any. Over the past 8 decades there have been many SMBS members who have gone on to bigger and better things - amongst them Bradley Dredge, Ian Woosnam, James Dean Bradfield, Kathryn Jenkins and Ban Ki- Moon. All, in their way have contributed to making the world a nicer place - with the possible exception of  Moony  who left under a fairly substantial Cumulonimbus and still owes £1 (1,800 South Korean won) from his last game when he lost a bet and failed to make 4 after a great drive 80 yards short of the 18th.

Dredgie was a regular in the school in the 80s but was forced to move away from the area, turn pro and take a drop in wages after the 1991 scandal involved Dredge, Dai Snips and Keith. Nothing was ever proven and the Steiff bears were all eventually found and returned to the Museum of Childhood Memories.

Dai Snips who had a lucrative barber shop in the middle of Deri with celebrity clients including Julian Cope  was forced to sell up and move to Calgary, Alberta, Canada where he became a butcher and business consultant.

Keith has missed just 7 of the 4,888 Saturday games and still uses the same tee he was given for the inaugural event by Ianto Ryder. Keith has played on the professional circuit, finished runner up in the Welsh Open on 3 occasions and has won 5 cars for holes in one in the past year alone. He is currently playing off 15. He hasn’t handed a card in since 1956 and has 7 children.

Coleg Golff Llangefni

In 1924 a group of Llanfairfechan professionals arrived in South Wales looking for work, women, beer and sport. They had had a long drive from the North and had little money or food after the disastrous opening of the Welsh Highland Railway the previous year. All they had were their flock of torddu sheep they drove from field to field, town to town, pub to pub, jail to jail on their journey south. They wandered through the huge expanse of mid Wales to the industrialised valley towns of South Wales looking for work or lodgings for themselves and their sheep.

However there was very little work or lodgings available and they soon became despondent. After a few years of this they had a tip off telling them of the fields and caves of Brawdafad and with no other option started making their way along the mountain pass. On November 30th 1926 they arrived at the village of Mynydd Brawdafad and discovered the ramshackled, rundown, dilapidated golf clubhouse. It was perfect for them. The course was perfect for the sheep and here they found people they could relate to – fellow golfers, miners and people extremely knowledgeable about torddu sheep. They unloaded their gear in the pro’s hut and relaxed for the first time since lambing season. It was a regular Friday evening at Mynydd Brawdafad and the weekend was looming with the prospect of 2 days rest from the relentless search for work. Friday evening at the clubhouse is pretty much as it is today – slow and filled with a handful of men drinking beer and talking about the glories of yesteryear. The Northerners joined in willingly and after a few legal, then illegal beers with the regulars a wager or twelve was inevitably stuck and a weekend competition was agreed.

The travellers from Llanfairfechan played against the team of Mynydd Brawdafad seniors over two days in atrocious weather and won 13½ points to 1½ points. Ianto Ryder, a wealthy Welshman, who made his money from sheep, coal, raccoon coats and the Symington side lacers, played in the competition and at the Sunday post match celebrations drunkenly agreed to provide a trophy to encourage the match to be played on a regular basis.

The inaugural Ianto Cup match was played the following year at Mynydd Brawdafad Golf Club, and thereafter every two years, with the venue alternating between North and South Wales, as the Llanfairfechan team made their biennial sheep migration North, then South following the lay lines of centuries past. The matches were even played during the war years as many of the competitors were too old for the First World War let alone the Second.

The battle didn’t become the ferocious, bitter contest it has become today until the early 1970s. Up until this period The Northern ‘Gogs’ had been winning the contest regularly due to the advent of cutting edge technology and technique far beyond the reach of their Southern counterparts. In the 1930s it was the Northern team that used carbon / titanium composite drivers for the first time whilst the Southerners relied on niblicks and guppies. In the ‘40s the advent of plastic tees and ‘real time DVD analysis’ by the captain and his 4 assistants continued this winning spell as the Northerners regularly defeated the Taff rivals. The 1950s saw the South using balata golf balls for the first time but they inevitably succumbed to the Haskell balls with compressed air core of the North.

However by the end of the 1960s the technology had pretty much levelled out with both teams looking indistinguishable from each other with perms, check trousers and v necked sweaters. The North still had the edge although it was getting closer. By this stage there was pressure from the West Walians and their sponsers, ‘Glynhir Cyflenir Hwrdd’ to get involved in the 1971 the North incorporated the West Walian golfers predominantly from the Abertrallod Golf Club into their team as a means of handicapping them. It was decided that at least 4 West Walians competition. In would play for the Northern team this was designed as a means of making the matches more competitive. It seemed to work. At this juncture the legendary and best West Walian golfer, Dyl Siglen played off a handicap of 24 with borrowed clubs and lost his match 10 and 8. Suddenly it was a real contest.

Since then the contest have become closer and closer and whilst the West Walians in the North and West Wales team still haven’t had a player off single figures this has more than been compensated for by the North Walian regime of taking their best physical children at the age of 4 and rearing them in their Belarusian-style Golf Academy, Coleg Golff Llangefni for 61 years until they are eligible for the team. At present the score remains Southern Taffs 14 wins, Northern and Western Goggs 34 wins with one tied match. However in the past decade the score is 5 wins apiece and the biennial contest still held in November is the flagship event of the S4C calendar year (biennially). The Ianto Cup remains one of the few great Amateur sporting competitions in Wales that is played for no official prize money and a negligible amount of on-course betting. Last year it was voted 43^rd most popular sporting event in Wales.

“You looking at me?”

The course has plenty of wild life to crow about. It is a course scarred by nature and the ground staff (I.e. Ron Smith and son Ian) continually battle against nature. It was designed, or more accurately, hewn out of the landscape by Ron’s father’s father and a few friends drinking at ‘The Ram’s Revenge” over a hundred years ago on the back of a receipt.  It’s not one of those classic Robert Tent Jones designed course where “our golf courses are of the earth but for the spirit.” It’s not a uplifting Jack Nicklaus course where the “number 1 goal in terms of creating individual shot values is to make the player use his mind ahead of his muscles — to control his emotions sufficiently to really think through his options before drawing a club from the bag”.
It’s a course where the war against nature has been fought every day for  31176 days and, for the moment at least, nature is taking second place.

It’s a mountain valley course hewn out of the Carboniferous Limestone against the unrelenting forces of nature. In the first years of the club electric wires were placed around the greens to keep the sheep and cattle off the greens. These are a thing of the past and today the wire is still used, but only as part of the armoury surrounding the car park against the marauding natives of Cwmbalc.
1. Bloods 2. Norte 3. Surenos 4. Crips  marinating

On the course there are gangs of wild sheep bustin their moves along the fairways from nearby hoods with their dogs and they are are very tough Bloods indeed.  Perhaps the more dangerous ones are the 4th fairway Crips and the 9th green Norte.  There is an intense gansta rivalry for land. The other wildlife, the squirrel Thugs ‘n’ Harmony on fairway double 99  and the T’bird magpies are frequently seem marinating near the pond and the seventeenth. But it’s the sheep that have the respect. The sheep really are tough mothers.

I was playing with Dai Snips one day when he hooked a drive off the fourth tee straight at the rear end of a grazing sheep. The ball struck the sheep and split in two (the ball, not the sheep). I thought the force of the stroke would have stunned a fairly strong human and killed most sheep. The sheep stopped grazing. He turned around and stared at Dai with a patronising look as if to say, “Is that the best you’ve got?”, turned back around and continued ruminating.

The greens aren’t that green. At the last members and guest day they were measured as -1.5 feet  on the stimpmeter uphill and +14 feet downhill. The greens are a mix of Bermuda grass, wolfsbane, slate, oleander, spinach and a local variety of angel’s trumpet. It’s not so much that they are fast, it’s that they’re invariably on a slope. On the 8th, for instance, the green in Escher-like in that every point on the putting surface leaves a slick downhill, left to right putt. Dai Snips a notoriously aggressive putter once scored an 8 on the par 3 12th having been on the green with his tee shot - This was the only occasion I’d seen anyone take a provisional putt.

On the par 4 tenth you have to send a scout out. The scout has to trudge 150 yards to the top of the ridge and keep an eye on the drive. It’s not that the terrain over the ridge is harsh, or particular sloping - it’s because the fairway has quite thick rough alongside it. The problem isn’t if the ball lands in the rough - at this point of the course the rough is not so bad. No, the problem is the gangs of school children hiding in the rough who will leave their hideouts in the rough to creep onto the fairway and steal your Pro V. It has been known for naïve visitors to buy their balls back at the end of the round via a third party (Johnny Sticks, the golf pro).