There are trips you plan, and then there are trips that feel like they’ve been waiting for you your whole life.
For us—the core four of this annual golf odyssey that’s been chasing states and stories for 16 years—Scotland in April 2023 was the latter. The pandemic had shoved it off the calendar once, maybe twice, turning what was supposed to be a celebration into a lingering ache. But when we finally touched down, just the guys, with a driver named Hamish behind the wheel of the van, it felt inevitable. Like the game itself had been holding its breath right alongside us.
We split the week in two perfect halves: the first at the Marine Hotel in North Berwick, waking up to the Firth of Forth glittering outside the window, and the second at the Russacks in St Andrews, rooms staring straight down the barrel of the Old Course like it was daring us to blink first.
Eight courses in seven days. Eight of the best the game has ever carved out of wind and sand and history.
It started at Gullane No. 1, rolling and breathtaking, then built to the day that will live forever in K2K lore: Muirfield.
The Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers doesn’t just let anyone in for lunch, but somehow we found ourselves seated beside the original Rules of Golf, toasting with kümmel in the smoking room afterward like we belonged.
On the course, caddies were drawn at random, and Terry pulled the winning ticket—an older Scotsman with whom he clicked instantly, reading putts like they’d played together for decades. Terry stood on the 18th tee even par, heart pounding, dreaming of the impossible. A double bogey on the last left him with a 73—still, by any measure, the finest gross round any of us had ever witnessed in K2K history.
The next morning, we decided Terry deserved a little ribbing. We made him pick his caddie last at North Berwick. He drew the youngest kid in the yard. Walking down the first fairway, small talk turns to the previous day. Terry starts recounting the near-miss at Muirfield, and he notices the kid’s eyes widening. “What time did you tee off yesterday?” the caddie asks. Terry tells him. A beat. Then the kid grins: “I talked to my uncle this morning. He couldn’t stop raving about the American he looped for at Muirfield.”
Same bloodline. Same electricity. Terry went out in 33, three under through nine, riding a wave of pure Scottish serendipity.
The rest blurred into the kind of week we don’t so much remember as feel in our bones: Elie’s periscope starter and blind shots, Kingsbarns’ postcard coastline, Carnoustie reminding us why it’s called the toughest test in golf. That day in the howling headwind produced two shots we’ll never stop talking about. On the infamous par-3 16th, Andy stepped up, hit driver off the tee… but even that came up short. He pulled driver again—this time a low bump-and-run that skittered onto the green. One putt later: par. Absolute legend stuff. Then on the 9th, Ben ripped driver followed by a hybrid into the gale. The approach bounced short, climbed the hill, broke left, and stopped tap-in distance—almost holed out for eagle, easy birdie instead. Carnoustie magic from both of them.
Then came the Jubilee—a quieter, more forgiving links that served as the perfect calm before the storm of the Old Course finale.
And then the Old Course. Quiet pilgrimage to Old Tom Morris’s grave amid the cathedral ruins. The obligatory (but no less meaningful) poses on the Swilcan Bridge.
Chris, facing the infamous Road Hole (17th), pulled his tee shot way left—too terrified of the hotel to take it on. From 220 yards out, he ripped a hybrid recovery that somehow found the tee box of the 18th. A pitch to 20 feet, then a straight uphill putt that dropped right in the heart for par. Pure clutch. The kind of save that gets retold forever.
Nights were spent the way they should be in St Andrews: multiple visits to the Jigger Inn—tucked right beside the Road Hole, the perfect spot for watching players sweat their approaches and then reliving our own close calls over pints—followed by evenings across town at the Dunvegan for one more round of stories. Hamish, steady and Scottish and endlessly entertaining, ferried us everywhere, turning every drive into part of the adventure.
The handicapped stroke play battle raged all week. Terry’s Muirfield 73 and North Berwick heater had him right there, but golf has a way of rewarding the steady hand. In the end, on the most famous ground in the game, Andy Ek held firm and claimed the K2K16 title.
Some trips are about the golf. This one was about finally getting home—to the places the game began, to the friendships that keep it alive, and to the realization that sometimes the best stories aren’t the ones we plan, but the ones the game, and a couple of uncanny caddies, hand us when we least expect it.
The Dunes
Kahola to Kapalua Tournament of Champions 