The Linksland Renaissance: Why Scotland’s Hidden Gems Matter More Than Ever

After 35 years covering professional golf, I’ve watched the sport chase trends like a teenager chasing TikTok fame. We’ve seen the rise of the mega-resort courses, the obsession with length over strategy, and the pricing that’s pushed everyday golfers to the sidelines. So when I read about a groundswell of attention toward authentic Scottish linksland—the real deal, not the sanitized versions—I took notice.

What strikes me about this moment is that we’re witnessing a quiet correction in how the golf world values its heritage. And frankly, it’s overdue.

The Authenticity Advantage

Here’s what most casual golf fans don’t understand: linksland golf isn’t just old. It’s honest. These courses weren’t designed by committees or built with laser levels and irrigation systems that turn rough Scottish soil into manicured perfection. They evolved. They breathe differently depending on the wind, the season, the mood of the Atlantic.

The source article nails this distinction when it notes that linksland was “played on sandy turf that was once beneath the sea it is fast-running with fairways and green shaped by the ocean rather than machinery.” That’s the entire philosophy right there. No apologies, no artifice.

In my years caddying for Tom Lehman, I saw firsthand how players respond to courses that demand imagination. Tom thrived on layouts that required you to think, to read the ground, to understand that par wasn’t a guarantee—it was a privilege earned through skill and creativity. That’s linksland golf. That’s what separates the men from the boys, as they say.

Value in an Era of Excess

What genuinely impressed me about this roundup is that someone finally acknowledged the elephant in the clubhouse: the Open Championship venues are “difficult – or expensive – to play.” Most outlets wouldn’t dare say that. But it’s true. St Andrews and Muirfield are practically inaccessible to regular golfers unless you book a year in advance and mortgage your house.

The beauty of this list is that it offers legitimate alternatives. Look at the price points:

• Gullane No. 3: £70 weekday (£80 for a full day)
• Perranporth: £60
• Elie: £60 weekday, £75 weekend
• Newbiggin: £30 (genuinely exceptional value)
• Borth: £43

These aren’t throw-away courses either. Elie is a James Braid design—and as the article wisely observes, “even his average layouts are good.” We’re talking about courses with legitimate pedigree, hosting history, and character that you simply can’t manufacture.

The Gullane Phenomenon

I want to circle back to Gullane specifically because it represents something I’ve noticed in 15 Masters and countless tour events: golf towns matter. They really do.

“Gullane is a special town. Everyone in golf knows about St Andrews – the greatest golf town of them all – but Gullane, a few miles east of Edinburgh, is the next best thing.”

That’s not hyperbole. Having covered golf in these communities, I can tell you there’s an energy that comes from a place where the entire town is built around the game. The pubs know golf. The restaurants serve golfers. The locals can talk you through course strategy over a pint. That ecosystem doesn’t exist everywhere, and when it does, it’s worth traveling for.

The three courses at Gullane—especially the interplay between them—creates something the big resort courses simply can’t replicate: community. And the description of playing the layout where “you see golfers swinging and yet you rarely hear them such is the isolation” gets at something profound. This is golf the way it was meant to be experienced.

Character Over Conditioning

Let me be direct about something: I’m not anti-modern golf course design. I’ve seen what conditioning and technology can do, and it’s remarkable. But there’s been a cost—a homogenization of the experience. Every resort course starts to feel like every other one.

Borth, for instance, is described as “quirky” in ways that would make a modern course architect nervous. “The road sometimes attracts stray shots. At other times the beach does so. And there’s even a house that comes under threat from the tee.” In today’s litigious world, you’d never see a course built with those parameters. But that’s precisely why Borth matters. It has personality. It has stories.

The Broader Trend

In my experience, when tour professionals talk off the record about what they miss, it’s authentic venues. The grind of the schedule doesn’t leave room for appreciation, but when you get accomplished players back on linksland courses, you see something change. They slow down. They smile more. They remember why they fell in love with the game.

“This is what makes linksland golf special: it demands imagination and Perranporth calls for it even more than usual.”

That single sentence should be required reading for anyone designing a golf course in the 21st century.

The Takeaway

The golf tourism industry—and this article is essentially golf tourism advocacy—has finally started asking the right questions. Not “how can we make this course longer and harder?” but rather “how can we offer authentic linksland experiences at prices regular golfers can actually afford?”

That’s progress. That’s respect for the game’s roots without gatekeeping its future.

If you haven’t played Scottish linksland beyond the marquee names, add Gullane No. 3 or Elie to your list. If you’re in England, Perranporth and Newbiggin offer the kind of golf that reminds you why we all show up at the first tee, week after week, hoping to play well.

That’s the real story here.