St Enodoc
It’s amazing that a circle of giant rocks, awkwardly balanced in the middle of nowhere can make you question the meaning of life. Elliot, our photographer, is explaining something about mud ramps and Neolithic tech that sounds like utter bollocks. Thankfully the motorway is drowning him out. To me, Stonehenge stands for one thing: you’re on the way to the Cornish Links.
In no time we’re driving up a steep picture book lane lined with flawless pastel coloured cottages. There are zero hints of a golf course on the horizon, but the Sat Nav demands we press on. A sign with the iconic church spire logo emerges, we’ve arrived at St Enodoc.
The clubhouse could be in Massachusetts - white picket fences, a beautiful balcony overlooking the 18th green and the first tee box, all framed by the shimmering Camel Estuary. The long journey from London suddenly seems worth it. Golf, beers, fish and chips, I could get used to this.
The Church course opens with a par five, the thick rough to the right calls my name as my rigid body makes an awkward pass at the ball. I succumb to its call, dutifully chop my second out toward the fairway, knock an iron onto the green and two-putt for par. We’re off.
St Enodoc is a tacticians golf course. Natural slopes mean you rarely have a flat lie. Firm greens are tucked into perfectly moulded hollows. Dramatic undulation changes combined with a firm sea breeze make club selection a constant battle. This is golf how it was meant to be: part science, part feel.
Traditional links layouts go in 2 directions, away from the clubhouse and back again, but St Enodoc breaks the rules. Each hole adopts a subtly new angle, forcing you to make constant adjustments to your calculations. As I scan the ancient dunes, contorted tree trunks and the grey, uneven stone of St Enodoc Church, I can’t help but feel like I’m in Hobbiton. This is adventure.
Rounding the dunes, the biggest bunker in England comes into view, its glinting sand demands my attention. Thankfully I navigate around it, but can’t resist jumping in and clipping a few over its horizon.
The blockbuster features don’t stop there. The Church Hole, the 10th, has to be one of the best in the world, and is a contender for most intimidating too. Hikers march up the path to the left guarded by an old dry stone dyke. The fairway extends like a narrow stream into the distance and in the grandeur of this setting, appears just a few paces wide. A precise iron leaves you with 220 yards over a winding burn to the green. I make an erratic bogey and run to the next.
Every hole here has so much quirk and character, it’s impossible to pick a favourite. Many of the all time great golf courses take time to show their subtle beauty. Their intricacy only becomes clear after multiple loops, but not here. The charm of St Enodoc hits you right in the face from the moment you step out of the car. A golf course discovered, not built, in a condensed patch of theatrical land on the Cornish coast.
As we stroll up the final fairway I laser the flag that flutters in the now mellow evening breeze. Behind the green groups of friends and families are chatting and sipping on their beers in the evening sun. I think I’d like to join them.