Left to Right #6: Formby
Enjoy it, kid
Visiting Formby is hard to separate from Aberdovey as my favourite so far in the UK. Both trips came capping off a holiday in 2024, too. At the end of November, Ally and I had a week in the Lake District for our first date anniversary. Surprisingly for me, it was my first time in the Lakes, and I persuaded my wife with a chance of rare red squirrel sightings in a nature reserve next to the golf club. Formby is on the northwest coast, referred to as “England's Golf Coast," and was kind of on our way home travelling south from Cumbria.
The weather was, again like Aberdovey, incredible that week – bright, sunny, but sub-zero at night and not much warmer in the day. I generally seem to get lucky with the weather, or perhaps make the best of it when not and subconsciously scrub those from the highlights. Unfortunately, we did miss snow at home. None of this was good for golf, though, which was pushed to the back of my mind that week. Not difficult with the time we had pootling around the National Park; days filled with hiking and evenings hunkering down. Catching the RAF train in their fighter jets in the valleys was very cool.
However, check-out morning arrived and the forecast was getting better. I was hopeful. An hour away in the car on the motorway I got a voicemail from the pro shop at Formby explaining that, because of the conditions, many holes were on temporary greens. Temporary, aka winter, greens are a sad, small, round area of the fairway cut short with a bigger than usual hole in the middle to compensate for the rough stopgap surface. They’re deployed when needed in front of and to protect the proper green in bad weather. Certainly not the full experience, many of these raised and tiered greens a highlight, and they would be reviewed at Formby throughout the day.
I was basically told I could be wasting my time – the pro knew my situation having pencilled in my booking on the proviso that significant maintenance to the closed course earlier that week was completed. Several hoops had been negotiated but obstacles still stood in my way. At a motorway services car park, I could hear myself telling the club professional at Formby that, actually, the forecast didn't look so bad. I was desperate to make it happen. He was extremely patient with me.
It happened – and, guess what? It was utterly glorious. The ground was not frozen, little wind, blue skies for the majority, a brief hailstorm the only thing falling from the sky. There was also hardly anyone out there on the course which was great because I promised it wouldn’t take all day. I fast-walked the whole way in a lightheaded stupor. Before I teed off, a middle-aged member making his way to the 1st, looking cold but similarly upbeat to be out and playing, asked me a couple of questions and gave me a bit of advice. Bidding farewell, he looked me dead in the eye, and with a thick Scouse accent and a knowing smile said, “Enjoy it, kid.”
“Formby is the prettiest of the eight top-notch links courses located between the seaside town of St Annes and the city of Liverpool. It is bordered on three sides by pine trees, giving the links a decidedly softer, heathland feel.”
Formby has a bit of everything and was an exhilarating experience for it. There were two temporary greens in the end, no closed holes, and no winter mats (plastic strip mats you carry and play off to protect fairways). I got lost on that course, mentally, in a good way, like at Aberdovey, but this was more theatrical with such variation to uncover. Encased by pine trees, I genuinely forgot I was by the sea and thought it was traffic I could hear before my brain engaged and I saw the Irish Sea appear briefly behind the par 3 10th. Before then, I walked off the par 3 5th, now covered white with hailstones, and had plenty of time to snap a rainbow in the distance. It all sounds embellished but I have the receipts, and a good juncture, for what it’s worth, to mention that I never use filters on my photos.
Anyway, I turned to make my way off the 5th and towards the 6th. Waiting for me was an elevated tee box to the right, the opening of the 6th fairway in the distance flanked by pines, and what turned out to be the 7th green peeking out coming back on the left (a tremendous hole where I sank a long putt for par and celebrated loudly). All bordered and separated with wispy light-brown grass mounds framing rippling fairways, greens aloft, and deep swales. It made me stop in my tracks. Stunning.
Playing golf with mates is always preferable. The shared experience, mutual validation, and just spending time together catching up and making new memories. It’s astonishing the amount of on-topic chat there is given the sheer number of hours in each other's company. “How’s Gary? Er, good, I guess? I know he’s got a new driver,” etc. When you’ve pulled something off or hit a great shot and there’s no one with you to acknowledge it, it can be bittersweet. But there is a special kind of transformative magic being in your own bubble on a great course. I’m eager to return to both Formby and Aberdovey with some pals.
Ally was waiting for me beside the 18th green. She watched me hit my long 6-iron approach, which I felt enormous pressure of wanting it to be good, to back up the tales I would soon bore her with of my low scoring three-hour round and three birdies. I flushed it, pitching on the front and coming to rest in the middle of the exceptionally long green. Nailed. Two-putt for bogey at the back pin, remembering I’d duffed my second after a poor tee shot. We had a quick lunch in the plush clubhouse, the 18th green in view from the window and Christmas decorations up in the lounge. I was high on endorphins. Ally hadn’t located the elusive red squirrel.
