The Quiet Revolution

Chris Bertram travelled to the Hebridean island of Islay to assess the extensive overhaul of The Machrie, one of the world’s most historic and beguiling links.

There are those who will never agree with the sweeping redevelopment of The Machrie. Even if the new course is widely considered a thoughtful reworking of a classic and prospers commercially, some will still bristle at the modernisation of one of Scotland’s most iconic and historic courses. When I heard it was being restored to such an extent, I certainly had at least one foot in that camp. I was worried The Machrie would morph into just another excellent links, that it was going to lose the idiosyncrasies and atmosphere that made it unique. It wasn’t concern based on romantic whim; I had good reason to fear the magic may be lost. 

I travelled to the Hebridean island nearly 10 years ago for a memorable couple of days that were disguised as the ‘stag’ of a friend. We also played Turnberry’s Ailsa and Dundonald (in fact, of the three courses we played, only the latter – and happily the marriage – remain in tact).

The Ailsa was naturally a thrill for everyone, but The Machrie was the centrepiece of the trip. Most of the 12-strong party loved the journey to Islay by boat from Troon. Everyone loved the boozy meal around a stout wooden table in the small hotel’s cosy dining room, and many had a good go at the hundreds of whiskies lined up behind the snug bar. Most even insouciantly accepted the basic lodging of the rustic adjoining cottages, memorable for the ‘chintz’ decor and slightly brown, peaty bath water. 

And everyone really loved The Machrie’s unconventional course, eccentric even by the standards of a Scottish links. The whole place had a ramshackle feel yet one bursting with authenticity and appeal. I reflect now on those two days fondly, and I can guarantee the 11 others do too.