“It will be dry with variable winds,” the girl from the weather centre repeated, sounding rather irritated with my doubting tone. With this prediction the decision was made, and a somewhat understrength team mobilised for the following day. A Dance that night and even more under strength team gathered next morning at the pier. A quick head count established six potential players and fur sets of golf clubs for an eight match tournament. Things didn’t look too good and began to look even worse as we approached Tiree, a freshening south easterly with spits and spots materialising on the lunge windows of the Columba. Things definitely were not good setting foot on Tiree in a full blown gale with torrential rain. One glimmer of hope was the sighting of a set of golf clubs in the luggage compartment. The unfortunate owner was tracked down and with virtually no chance of refusal, informed that he was to make up the seventh member of our team. Our hosts were on hand to meet us on the pier and there was just the slightest suspicion that they had hoped what we might have decided against travelling at the last minute.

A few practice holes were agreed, and then lunch before the match proper. Putting a brave face on it we trudged off into the driving rain, swathed in waterproofs, except, that is, for the Social Convener, who maintained that his very large heavy knit Aran ha quite remarkable water repellent properties. Three practice holes later we had had enough, unanimously deciding on a rapid retreat to the warmth of the Lodge Hotel and lunch. One look at the Social convener, and the Proprietor immediately made available his drying facilities, a service that even those with waterproofs welcomed.

With considerable reluctance we dragged ourselves back to the course. Nine holes rather that the normal eighteen where decided upon, played as three foursomes and a pair. All rounds were played at a very brisk pace, no danger of slow play in such conditions. The outcome of the contest had always been a formality, but all the Coll team aquitted themselves well, losing out by only one match, the final tally being Tiree 2½, Coll 1½.

Back again to the Lodge and the prospect of no boat back to Coll that night. Any worries on that score were soon relegated to the back of our minds as we enjoyed the hospitality of the premises, courtesy of the proprietor and the Tiree Golf Club. By early evening the weather had moderated somewhat and at the last moment Hector MacLennan sent word that he would sail. The boat being moored offshore, transport to and from was by a minute fibreglass dinghy into which was crammed, with no little hilarity, tow passengers at a time plus golf clubs, bicycles (belonging to a couple of day trippers along for the ride) and unfurled golf umbrellas to provide some protection against the elements. Although the wind had dropped there was a considerable swell as we picked our way through the reefs skirting Gunna sound.

The responsibilities of office were by now taking their toll on the Social Convener who took some alarming lunges towards the side of the boat as it rolled and pitched in the swell. Dusk was falling as we arrived at the Tombs, and true to form it was low tide, necessitating a long scramble over the seaweed covered rocks. Stepping ashore was in itself a hazardous process and so it proved for the social convener who, hopelessly mistiming his step, missed the rock and without a murmur slid beneath the waves, golf bag and all. Helping hands soon had him withdrawn to safety and taking a deep breath he took a confident stride forward, followed by two backwards, consequently resuming his position beneath the brine. Helping hands were not so readily available as he re-emerged; uncontrollable laughter made this impossible. The Hon. Treasurer, normally so restrained, was bent double making strange squeaking noises with tears streaming down his cheeks. Hector MacLennan looked on in bemused silence, wondering no doubt what else these strange Coll folk had up their sleeve, other than salt water.

So ended our Annual golf outing to Tiree, not to be remembered perhaps for its golf, but memorable nonetheless. This year we hope to repay Tiree golf Club’s hospitality and, of course, manage a reversal of the scorelines on our own Links.