My father-in-law, who seems informed on most things but particularly travel in the UK, suggested Aberdyfi, also known as Aberdovey, in Gwynedd, Wales as a harbour resort base to explore the Eryri, aka Snowdonia, National Park. A beach for my then 11-year-old son, and coastal mountains for my wife. Perfect. Now sliding into golf sicko territory, while researching accommodation and restaurants, I soon learned that there was a very good golf course in Aberdovey. I booked a twilight round months in advance for the last day of the trip.

I’d played a links once before, not in the UK, at Palmares in Portugal in 2023. It blew my mind, a links and parkland course which routes breathtakingly over and on the Atlantic coast, double greens, golf happening everywhere you laid your eyes. Too rich, if anything, certainly too much to take in the first time. I vowed to go back and my mates both agreed at the time, “Well, you really ought to play some links golf at home, then.” I can’t remember what I shot, it would have been a lot, it didn’t matter. That taste of links golf stuck with me in the background all the way to Aberdovey. I got married a week after Portugal in 2023, perhaps that distracted me.

Fitting a golf trip into a family holiday is pretty dedicated, but half the battle with these trips is just getting there and back, so if it can work it makes sense. The weather was unbelievable for Wales even in August – warm, sunny, no rain, no wind even. “A links with no wind hasn’t got any teeth,” I was confidently told in a club fitting, but fuck that I’m taking it. The three of us rocked up too late for me to have any form of practice as we got waylaid by activities earlier in the day. No big deal, this is a family holiday. I like at least half an hour at home to warm up, longer somewhere new to get a feel for the short game area and make use of a decent range if they have one. Sometimes, though, you’ve just gotta go straight out and I’d made peace with this long before we got there; I was lucky that it was happening at all.

We checked in at the pro shop. I wasn’t sure what to expect, it was a top 100 UK course and I didn’t know how relaxed it would be. Turns out they were fantastic, a genuinely warm welcome, and they were more than happy for all of us to walk the course together. That’s another cool thing about links courses – their proximity to the coastline means that life outside the golf course bleeds in at the open edges. Dogs on the course, people walking through to the beach, a wee railway track and station. On the 17th tee box, I sat with my son on a bench as we waited for another young family, buckets and spades in tow, to cross in front of the fairway, wondering how often the trains run as we took a welcome break.

Short on time, I was frantically searching for the course on the England Golf app where you can create and later submit your scorecard. It wasn’t coming up, I could not find it. I impatiently asked about the wifi, even deleted and reinstalled the app, no dice. My tee time was in five minutes, Fraser, my son, was on the putting green while I continued to flap. It then dawned on me that Aberdovey wasn’t in England, a faux pas I’ve pretty much kept to myself since, and I quickly cycled back in the menus to Wales. Voila! My mood was bordering on embarrassing at this stage, though, and I was in no state to think about hitting a good tee shot off the first, let alone the rest of the course, but we were up. My wife, Ally, could see and hear I was stressed but gave encouragement and calm nonetheless.

I asked Fraser whether the greens were quick but I think he was still pissed off that we weren't getting the buggy I’d booked for him. Given we could all walk the course and they would both likely get bored and disappear over the dunes to the beach, it seemed a waste. I always want to walk the course – unless mandatory, buggies are really only for holiday golf, youtubers, and the infirm. On hearing this news, Fraser gleefully disclosed to Ally how much I’d spent in the pro shop (a beauty of a driver headcover, standard memento ball marker, emergency balls).

Still grumbling to myself on the tee box, I soon unfucked myself as I looked down the first fairway getting a glimpse of what was to come. Oh boy, it was magnificent. I hadn’t taken any of it in and then I suddenly realised why we were all here. Cambrian Mountain range on our right, dunes and beach to the left, and inviting, undulating fairways and greens through the middle, classically out-and-back to the clubhouse. A working railway running right alongside the course. Heaven.

I think If I’d have snap-hooked that ball towards the beach off the tee I wouldn’t have cared, I just wanted to get going. Fortunately, I picked my spot guessing where was safe talking it through with Ally, made a solid connection, and the ball went where intended. Good when that happens. Also good not topping one in front of my wife who has only seen me hit a ball once before. Fraser, obviously distracted, belatedly caught up with the context and offered some further encouragement. “Well done, Dad.” We were away.

The rest is a captivating blur, forgetting to even take any photos for the first few holes. The sea sounded gentle, only a whiff of a breeze, no clouds until the sun started to dip at the end. Hitting a long iron shot or drive, pulling your head up after the strike to follow the ball and seeing a vista of blue sky, mountains, and sea is frankly laughable.

The links turf was tight, solid, and nippy, with all manner of mounds and swales which required thought and creativity to bypass. Generally generous fairways and huge greens, but varied throughout and, at differing times, you can be squeezed off the tee or scouting smaller, trickier greens. Deceptively small pot bunkers littered fairways tee to green. It all made for a thrilling experience and I can’t recall one filler hole. I would go back in a heartbeat.

Fraser and Ally duly went to the beach after a few holes and later appeared over the dunes in time for the final third, alongside the railway. Sharing that with them, Fraser especially at his age, was rather special. I think he will remember it.