Kington

The putt was conceded, and the sprinklers doused the final group on the 18th green as a two-day society match concluded in a memorable tie.

This was remarkable considering the literal ups and downs faced by the sides at Kington, the highest 18-hole course in England.

This is a course of considerable quirk and high drama, with only those who can judge angles and pace likely to score.

The club is perched next to farmland on the Welsh border, and finding it is an adventure.

Our group discussed with bewilderment the myriad routes offered by their respective Satnavs to the sleepy town below the course before a common ascent up a country track.

Car parking on a steep gradient gives a clue to the mind-boggling round to come.

Meanwhile, the view from the homely clubhouse is simultaneously splendid and bewildering.

“This isn’t a golf course, it’s a postcard,” remarked my first-day match partner in tribute to the astonishing views.

But the greater attention was given to the souls playing the 18th, where every drive down the left-hand side of the fairway fell at almost 90 degrees down a slope into trees on the right.

I played the course three times and failed to find a way to prevent that. Ditto, all bar one of our group. He drove the green of this 250-yard par-four.

It is certainly not the only hole where straight shots are not necessarily rewarded.

Indeed, the same slope is shared with the first hole, where drives must be far to the right to avoid the ball slip sliding away.

The green is perched high on the hill, and only two days of practice enabled me to find it on the final day before completing a pleasing birdie.

Invisible champagne flowed again on the third hole – a lovely par-three with a bank in front of the target and a grassy hill beyond it. I chipped in for a two.

Apparently, this proved that two practice rounds produced enough knowledge to burn Kington up.

Absolutely not. My round maintained a decent standard for a few holes but disintegrated at the business end. Fortunately, my partner bailed me out.

I digress.

The variety of Kington’s holes stands out. There are several short par-fours but also long ones like the fourth that demands a straight drive between bushes over a distant post before a long thwack to the flag.

The seventh offers the best chance of a score on the three par-fives, dramatically descending to a small green after a blind tee shot.

Then there are holes which I would need to play 100 times to understand.

For example, the par-three ninth is on an intense left-to-right slope that drifts into bushes.

There are no sand bunkers at Kington, but don’t be fooled into thinking the grass traps dotted around the course are easy. The lies are much less consistent than in sand.

They surround the par-three 12th, leaving only a narrow entrance from the right. I tried to fly them to the green on practice day, only to see the ball bounce over the back and into a hedge.

There are several contenders for the most difficult hole at Kington, but my personal nemesis was the par-four 13th. At 382 yards, it should have offered an opportunity to score, but I failed each time.

Even a straight drive over the hill is likely to see the ball drop to the left, but the next shot is the true tester because it is into a small green that I could not hold.

Consequently, the ball slipped 25 yards down a hill, leaving a near-vertical chip to save a point.

The 15th is one of the signature holes—a stunning downhill 211-yard par-three that played into a gusty wind during our final round. It will go down as one of my pars of the year.

Both of my matches came down to the 18th we had earlier observed with wide eyes. By hook and crook, my partners and I came out with a win and a draw.

Thus, we completed two cracking days on an unforgettable course.

I don’t think I have the physical stamina or mental strength to be a member at Kington, but it is certainly a course everyone should play more than once.