An early morning walk to savour at Mount Juliet

Posted by Jamie on 26 September 2010 | 1 Comments | Tags: Mount Juliet, Jack Nicklaus, Ireland, WGC

You poor lot have been subjected to us harping on for the past couple of months about the wonders of links golf.  Dunes this; pot bunkers that...you must be bored out of your skins.  Happily Ireland �?? like Bonnie Scotland �?? has one or two parkland treats that provide a welcome diversion from the wind.  Mount Juliet is one of �??em.  Having held a couple of WGC Amex Championships in �??02 and �??04 it may well be a name with which you Dear Reader are familiar.  Certainly it was always on our radar when planning the Irish leg.  And how appreciative I am that they were kind enough to host us on a serene Thursday morning.

Old Head though quite a spectacle was an affair of endurance, truth be told �?? in that it took us a level 5.5 hours to get around, just in time as dusk fell.  3 exhausted Kiwis stumbled into The Tank, which we pointed towards Kilkenny.  There was waiting a Top Drawer human who goes by the name �?? as far as I could tell �?? of Owen Sweeney.  OS has been in touch with us for some time, after originally coming across our adventure on Slambino�??s blog.  The poor sod is a lawyer �?? a burden he appears to carry with admirable tolerance and, even, mild enjoyment.  His firm�??s into wind farms and all of that carry on: one of the more glamorous fields of practice these days.  Anyway.  Owen God Bless Him is also a keen golfer and has played in such illustrious settings as Cape Kidnappers, Kauri Cliffs and National Golf Links of America (where he caddied for a couple of summers throughout university).  A like minded soul.

Owen and his good brother Barry have a flat together in Kilkenny, which they very graciously vacated so we could rest our heads.  Poor Ina and Joe �?? Mother and Papa Bear �?? had to endure having the pair back on home turf.  So up front then I�??d like to 1. Thanks The Brothers Sweeney; and 2.  Apologise to The Parents Sweeney.  

Given Mount Juliet had a shotgun start on at 1pm (or, at least, they were supposed to), we had to be on the tee at 7.30am.  The dew lay heavy on the grass.  A terribly anti-social hour to be getting your feet wet, but once we were out I was thankful to be getting the most of the day.  Broken sun was casting the odd shadow and lighting up the liquid frost: quite a sight, friends.  In the distance, across County Kilkenny, Owen pointed out Mount Leinster �?? which the man himself had been smacking balls off the top of, not several weeks ago.  And why not?  The more pertinent point though is that Mount Juliet at this hour was, in its mature and fertile glory, absolutely magnificent.  It�??s hard to believe peace can be found in Ireland �?? peace away from the endless socialising, craic; not peace as in The Peace Process �?? but it can, at Mount Juliet.  In the early morning.  When the ducks don�??t seem too bothered by one�??s presence.

Now, Owen is a bandit.  Granted, a fine bandit at that �?? and one with a cracking sense of humour.  But a bandit nonetheless.  His 9 handicap should be turned upside down before subtracting a couple.  79 the rascal carded, pillaging nearly every skin on offer.  Just as well we weren�??t playing for Euros.  In fairness to the man, he acknowledged �?? with impeccable modesty and not a hint of arrogance �?? that he should be playing off a couple less, but that he never gets the chance to play in competitions because he is a lawyer and has a loving girlfriend.  Thus I retract the �??bandit�?� label and apologise for any offence caused Owen my friend.

The course wasn�??t a taxing test of golf �?? at least from the whites (blues weren�??t out) �?? but rather a meandering sequence of delightful holes framed by huge oaks and ashes and the odd pond.  The 2nd hole (pictured below) is a gorgeous dogleg right par 4 to a green that�??s 36 times deeper than it looks.  And it�??s very much a game of angles.  You can�??t really hit driver from the tee, unless you fade it around the tree on the corner (a brave play); instead a 3 wood or long iron to the middle of far side of the fairway sets up an ideal approach.  Well done Jack (it�??s the first and only Jack Nicklaus Signature Design in Ireland, having been opened in 1991 with an exhibition match between The Golden Bear himself and Christy O�??Connor Snr)...

As I often promise, I won�??t take you through Every Hole.  But.  Indulge me for a moment while I round off one of the most agreeable opening stretches in Irish golf.  Nummer drei.  Tremendously picturesque little par 3 over water.  At this point in the proceedings that big ball of gas in the sky was mercilessly burning off any cloud in its way, and casting a blinding glow on the still water below.  Even the geese �?? which are in most cases cantankerous creatures that will peck your eye out at the earliest opportunity �?? managed to look convivial.  You never know, they might�??ve still had a go if I�??d got close enough.  And I wasn�??t going to find out.  On this hole I snatched one of only a few skins from Owen�??s grasp after he very charitably 3 jacked from the front apron.  We hang onto what we can...

The fourth �?? nummer vier �?? is stroke index 2 and a ba*tard of a creation.  Just as well it�??s so good looking, otherwise I wouldn�??t be so complimentary.  Hit a good tee shot Or Else.  Mick being the creative soul that he is thumped one off the trees on the left and bounced back into the fairway �?? he sees shots none of the rest of us see, much like that man McIlroy.  He tried the same trick shot for his approach but wasn�??t able to recreate the same magic, a triple bogey 7 ensuing.  He won�??t like me for mentioning this, but I would�??ve been so impressed had he been able to repeat the trick shot that had so gripped Owen and myself with wonder.  The local and I halved the hole in 4s, except we didn�??t, because he was burgling shots and I left my birdie putt in the jaws.  No grudge here.  Take my word for it though folks: a lovely, lovely hole.  

Truth be told there are a couple of indifferent holes that follow.  Not �??bad�?�; just a slight comedown from the opening stretch.  Below is a photo of Herr Goldstein blasting off on the 8th �?? note how he uses those huge calf muscles to devastating effect in launching a pro-v1 into orbit (it later came back down to earth, sadly between a few trees).  But for my photographic ineptitude you might�??ve seen both feet right off the ground �?? another one of his myriad trick shots.  So you see, it�??s a pleasure to wake up every morning and watch Michael play golf.  That�??s how I can do it.  Sheer amusement.

There�??s something else I�??d like to share with you.  Unusually, it�??s a house.  Said house is pictured below.  It belongs to a chap whose name escapes me, but he�??s the man behind a huge telecommunications conglomerate called Digicel.  Owen pointed this fact out to me as we approached the 8th green, just as we�??d been discussing onerous files we or our comrades in law had worked on.  Which was a tremendous coincidence.  Because a good friend and former colleague of my own �?? one Julian Brown Esquire �?? spent a year or two of his life on a deal for Digicel in the South Pacific.  That file nearly drained every ounce of life out of poor Julian, who has since moved on from the nightmare and these days pondering life beyond �??Digi�?�.  May your recovery be a sharp and happy one Julian, my friend.  I tried to smack my 3 wood into the front window but it didn�??t have the legs and ended up by accident next to the pin instead...ha!  Anyway I hope you will find comfort in knowing that the house doesn�??t look as nice in person as it does in the photo...

Below is the par 5 10th, which splits into 2 giving you options.  A narrow chute on the right giving a more favourable angle into the green, or a wider lay up area out to the left which requires a bigger 2nd blow.  The choice is yours.  Sadly I hit my worst shot of the day in laying up and carded a diabolical 6.  Below below is Owen looking mystified and dashing with divot in hand.  

Curiously the stroke index 1 13th hole was a bit of a gimme.  But a pretty picture nonetheless.  3 wood, 9 iron, 2 putts, thank you very much.  Beware however the pond propping up the front of the green and the killer geese that make their home there.  

Here�??s a photo of Owen and me cuddling each other.  He looks like Liam Gallagher after a good night out and I look like I�??m chewing on a very acidic lemon �?? what a handsome couple...

Behind the 16th green you�??ll find a huge waste bunker that runs right up to an ancient looking wall.  It was an unusual feature on a course of this character, but for whatever reason, it �??worked.�?�  Just thought I�??d share.

17 and 18 are a super pair of holes.  The former being a short par 5 through feature oaks; the latter being a long par 4, again, framed by trees and a pond too.  A delightful American chap from Michigan named Charlie Nemis whom we�??d met in the pro shop joined us for the last couple, providing a bit of comic relief and light hearted banter.  I love American enthusiasm.  Naysayers who haven�??t yet had the pleasure of visiting the land of the free should �?? I would say �?? reserve judgment on this fine people until they�??ve met the Yanks on their own terms on home soil.  Once you�??ve been there you have a newfound appreciation for their quirks.  Charlie is pictured below trying to wrestle Owen from my grasp.

No sooner had we finished our golf, done the thank yous and retreated back to base camp than we found ourselves playing dice games with Gretta and Barry.  We were then lucky enough to be invited to The Parents Sweeney�??s pad down the road for a Home Cooked Meal To End All Home Cooked Meals.  How comforting it was to heap ladlefuls of chicken something onto a plate next to roast potatoes and green beans.  Joe provided adversarial like razor sharp banter and struck me a good blow on the arm as I left, no doubt in disbelief at the cheek I�??d displayed in duelling with him.  Ina was a dear.  How she could be responsible for 1. Marrying Joe; and 2. Creating the monster bandit that is Owen, I don�??t know.  

We all had a famous time.  Singing �??The Weight�?� at the top of my lungs in the early hours with Owen and co at a gig will be a fond memory cherished for years to come.  Owen �?? muchos gracias for your hospitality and on course burglary.

JP