EDINBURGH, Scotland — They come from all directions, really, which is what you get when the 1st tee is in the center of the city. From the left, a full family of five — mom, dad, three kids — spending their evening together on the course. From the right, a six-some fresh off the workday, dressed in slacks and button-downs, ready to play an alternate-shot three ball.
From behind the tee came a date — it had to be a date — between twenty-somethings, each carrying a putter and a wedge in their left hands, and to-go pints of lager in their right. They scooped the beers at an aptly named pub across the street, Ye Olde Golf Tavern. I basked in this scene for 20 minutes, waiting for my playing partner to arrive. This was his first experience of the Bruntsfield Links. He shared his thoughts before I could even ask for them. This place is amazing.
That last word is a good one for the Bruntsfield Links, which really isn’t a “links” as we’ve come to understand the term over the years. Bruntsfield is just a pitch-n-putt course in the middle of Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital, but it’s unlike anything I’ve found anywhere else in the world. And maybe that makes sense, since it’s the oldest golfing ground in the world.
It all starts with a not-so-obvious 1st tee, located near an old, hexagonal, metal shack about the size of a sauna. Tacked to the front of the dark green shanty are a few laminated postings that clarify a few rules.
1. This place is free for anyone to use.
2. No more than four players in a group.
3. No more than seven strokes on a hole.
4. Play fast and let faster players play through.
5. Don’t litter.
Simple enough.
Sean Zak
There used to be six holes in this city park, back when it was first played on hundreds of years ago. Now there are 36, ranging from 40 to 100 yards, with a bunch of wiggle room because the teeing grounds aren’t totally clear. White arrows spray-painted on the uneven terrain direct you from each green to the next teeing vicinity, but they’ve faded during the summer heat. Look for divot marks instead. Golfers seem to know what makes sense.
The Bruntsfield Links is owned by the city council but maintained by loving volunteers. The real golf-sickos. The greens are cut every few weeks, if that, but the course is used so frequently that the wear and tear of play keeps things mostly tidy. You’re not trying to set a course record — which is 90, by the way. Eighteen threes and 18 twos — you’re just trying to ride the waves of mounds and bounces to enjoy an evening in the park. That’s what everyone else is doing.
The course is flanked by university buildings and student housing, so on a warm Thursday in July, its borders were littered by groups of adult picnics. If they’re in the way, you can tee off anywhere else that makes sense. The greens are about 20 feet in diameter, if that. You’re not going to hit many. But you’ll have endless opportunity to chip in for a deuce.
My playing partner and I, who both grew up in the American Midwest, wondered aloud about why this setup doesn’t seem to exist back home. There are so many reasons, and not all of them are so shameful. There are too many sports back home! This plot of land would have to carve out space for tennis courts or baseball fields or a soccer pitch. Maybe all three! That’s what America would do with it, right? And it would be maintained by the local parks department, rented out by local schools at specific times of each week and in the end, it would feel efficient. Until the pickleballers showed up, or the lacrosse teams needed space, or the community mouvement du jour suddenly became Yoga in the Park.
It’s all golf over here, though, at the Bruntsfield Links. I love it so much because they love it so much.
