A Bonjour Golf…..goodbye dignity experience, a dispatch from one of the finest and friendliest weeks I’ve had in years.
There is a specific understated madness found only in the heart of a club golfer boarding a flight to Lisbon. It is a fragile, beautiful thing, constructed entirely of YouTube swing tutorials and the delusional belief that five days in the Atlantic breeze will undo many years of ingrained muscular catastrophe, held together by the co-ordination of a player that looks like someone trying to kill a wasp in a telephone box.
The golfers odyssey in Portugal: which ran like clockwork
There is an old adage that golf is a long walk spoiled, but when that walk takes place along the serrated, salt-sprayed cliffs of Portugal’s Silver Coast, the spoiling is of a remarkably high vintage. Our merry band of hackers engaged in a tactical strike on the Algarve’s more sophisticated northern cousin, which was less a "holiday" and more a "high-stakes structural realignment" of twenty six distinct, and often terrifying golf swings which culminated in a four-day battle between Portuguese topography and British (and French) stubbornness.
The expedition was masterminded by Graham Ruth, a logistical titan with the saint-like patience required to herd twenty six golfers toward a coach without losing a single soul to the hotel bar.
He had booked us into the five star Marriot Praia D’el Rey for 5 nights, including half-board (drinks package) and four rounds of golf at three stunning courses. Included were all transfers and coaching with our two pros. This all came in at well under 1100 pounds (for those sharing), which represents fantastic value.
Daily coaching by the Dynamic Duo: James and Dan
At the heart of this odyssey were our two guiding lights, James Ruth and Dan Hendriksen.
To call them "coaches" feels like a reductive slight; they were part-time mechanics, part-time therapists, and full-time miracle workers. Watching them work was a study in contrasts. Dan, with the analytical eye of a swiss watchmaker, could identify a "flying right elbow" from three fairways away, personally providing me with the emotional scaffolding required when one realised their "power draw" is actually a violent, uncontrollable hook.
James, meanwhile, possessed the uncanny ability to deliver soul-crushing technical feedback with such infectious charm that you actually found yourself smiling as he told you your weight transfer was "mathematically impossible."
Together, for two hours each day they patrolled the range like benevolent wardens, attempting to install some resemblance of a repeatable motion into our wildly varying physiques. They provided guidance, demonstrations and advice that benefited all that came.
The Courses: The Three founding Pillars of the Silver Coast
The genius of Graham’s scheduling was that the first tee time the following day was always precisely ten minutes before one’s soul had fully re-entered one's body after the previous evening's “hydration session”.
Watching the 26 of us try to find our "athletic stance" while nursing a slight headache and a profound sense of regret is a spectator sport in itself. But as we looked at the rugged cliffs and the shimmering Atlantic, we realised that this was the point.
We tested our mettle (and lost our Titleist's, Seeds and for those having a worse day Top Flites or even balls from a new manufacturer called ‘Range’ ) across the holy trinity of the region's finest offerings:
West Cliffs: West Cliffs is simply stunning, it's a bit of a bare-knuckle brawl in a bar with some pretty menacing bikers. This visual masterpiece is "target golf" in its most literal sense. The vegetation is so dense and unforgiving that when I missed the fairway, I realised that you don't look for your ball; you hold a small wake for it and move on. Do not fear though, there is a tee box to suit all people and you are in for one of the rounds of your life with the superb views, fairways, greens with the extraordinary backdrop of the ocean that are a testing but an epic experience… 10/10 (2 rounds played - days 1 and 4)
Praia D’El Rey: The grand dame of the coast is more of a firm handshake, than the in your face aggression of West Cliffs. It’s a Jekyll and Hyde experience, beginning in the lush, pine-scented forest before exploding onto the clifftops for a coastal seduction which gave a lifetime of memories. There is nothing quite like the humbling sensation of staring at the Atlantic Ocean while my ball hooked majestically into it, becoming one with the kelp, but you don’t really mind, it's just that good. I was lucky enough to go round with James (my online teacher and unofficial swing crush - this led a very nervous yours truly, who’s crush became a reality…………more on that later!) 10/10 (1 round played - day 2)
Royal Óbidos: A Seve Ballesteros design that demands flair. It’s a sophisticated layout that as Dan said “screams of Seve” and offers panoramic views of the lagoon, providing a stunning backdrop for the moment I realised that "aiming straight" does not, in fact, stop the ball from going left. The whole course was a tad damp under foot from the recent winter storms that very sadly have had an impact on Portugal and this region in particular. Please don't let the slightly wet course fool you, there were incredible par 3’s, and wonderfully mad par 4’s and 5’s that were as creative as the master who designed it. From a selfish point of view, I had a lovely day playing with Dan, who was great company and an extremely good player (but you already knew that!). 9/10 (1 round - day 3)
The Incident! - "Impact" of the Week
There's always one right!
Well guess who provided it?
One of the definitive moments of the trip, the one that will be recounted in hushed, giggling tones at every 19th hole for the next decade, did not involve a birdie or a hole-in-one. It involved a motorised collision of staggering clumsiness.
Your author (also called Graham and the villain of this tale)…. usually the paragon of focus, found himself behind the wheel of a golf buggy. Now, a buggy is a simple machine, but in the hands of a man contemplating a scorecard, it becomes a weapon of war.
As James walked innocently along the fairway, my buggy and I decided we had a date with destiny. There was no screech of brakes, no cry of "Fore!"; just the dull, sickening thwack of a plastic meeting coach. "It was," as one witness noted, "the most accurate Graham had been with a moving object all week."
The clubhouse, of course, provided the perfect theatre for the retelling of The Great Buggy Ambush. Over a round of beers the story evolved, and by 9:00 PM in the hotel bar, it had become a high-speed cinematic pursuit, that even my spirited defence could not avail.
To his credit, James took the blow with the stoicism of a man used to being metaphorically hit by his students' performances every day. I meanwhile, looked less like a golfer and more like a mortified man who had just accidentally knocked over a Ming vase at a wake. It was the ultimate "British" moment: an awkward apology, a frantic check of the paintwork, and a collective agreement to never speak of it again, right before we told everyone in the clubhouse.
The 19th Hole: Daily Liquid Therapy
If the golf course is where we go to face the grim reality of our motor skills, then everyday the clubhouse is where we go to systematically rewrite history. There is a specific, high-level alchemy that occurs after five hours in the Portuguese sun, wind or rain: the further one gets from the 18th green, the better one’s "almost-birdie" becomes.
By the second pint of Super Bock, a thinned wedge that nearly decapitated a seagull at Praia D’El Rey is recounted as a "bold, low-flighted approach to hold the wind." By the third, we are all practically Tiger Woods in 1997.
James and Dan, ever the professionals, would join us for these post-mortem sessions. They were kind, friendly and endlessly approachable whilst we “demonstrated” what we had learned!
In Conclusion: The Verdict
The Destination: The Silver Coast is the thinking golfer's destination. It is rugged, relentlessly beautiful, and offers a stern rebuke to anyone who thinks they’ve "mastered" the game.
The Experience: Under the watchful eyes of James and Dan, we didn't just play golf; we survived it. We returned to our respective countries with slightly improved grip pressures, significantly larger bar tabs, and a newfound respect for the structural integrity of a golf cart.
The Final Word: If you seek a trip defined by rhythmic grace and par-golf, look elsewhere. But if you want a week of world-class views, expert coaching, and the legitimate chance of being run over by me, Graham’s Ruth's Bonjour Golf Portuguese Odyssey is the only ticket in town.
I had never done anything like this trip before and this article is written with endless thanks to every single one of the new friends (which is every single one of you) that I have been fortunate to make on this trip. You made an old Bristolian duffer feel very welcome.
I would like to think that all would support me in extending an extra thanks to our leaders:
- Sir Graham Ruth (Transport Logistics and all around Good Egg)
- Field Marshal James (Bio-Mechanics & Physiotherapy)
- General Dan (Positive Psychology & Club Retrieval)
See you all next year…. If you’ll have me?
By Private Graham Rushby (British Attache to the Dutch Golf Cart Demolition Division)