Last week, we visited the Isle of Arran and played every hole on the island in one day, raising money for Arran Cancer Support.

The golf was exhausting, but the journey to and from Arran was equally that, so we found our two cars on the phone on the drive home, debating the only question that really mattered by that point: “What would your eclectic 18 on Arran be?”

Naturally, this exercise came with a few challenges. Eclectic 18s are tricky enough at the best of times, with one change affecting the whole card in much the same way that moving an image in Microsoft Word ruins the entire document. This one was made even harder by the fact that Arran has seven courses made up of two 9-holers, an 11-holer, the famous 12-holer, and just three 18-holers. As a result, we agreed on the following rules:

• Every course must be chosen at least once
• The 9-holers can be used on both the front and back nine

Sadly, this did leave Lochranza and Shiskine at something of a disadvantage, but with the former being a campsite pitch and putt and the latter being the most famous course on the island, we felt both would feature an appropriate amount regardless.

After endless back and forth, we finally agreed on our eclectic 18. But with Arran being fairly remote, and few readers likely to have visited these courses outside of Shiskine, the next challenge was how to add some colour to the blog without drifting into the dreaded “pro’s tips” section of a golf club website.

Enter Bernard DAIrwin.

With so much AI nonsense in the world today, we thought we might as well put it to good use and resurrect the game’s favourite writer to describe each hole for you.

And, judging by what follows, it sounds like DAIrwin liked Arran just as much as we did.

Hole 1 – Lochranza

“At Lochranza’s first, the golfer is asked to strike a ball eighty yards, avoid a herd of stag, and preserve what remains of his dignity. It has no strategy, unless one counts the deer as bunkers of a more animated and reproachful sort. Yet with Arran rising about it and whisky almost within scent, criticism becomes a low and ungrateful occupation. A small green, a large valley, and the distinct possibility of apologising to wildlife – what more, pray, does golf require?”

Hole 2 – Corrie

“At Corrie’s second, the golfer, having been softened by a clubhouse of touching antiquity and an opening hole of no very imperious manner, is suddenly brought up short by a prospect quite out of proportion to his expectations. The trees draw aside as if in conspiracy, and there below lies a glen of such waterfalls, peaks and theatrical splendour as to make the mashie tremble in the hand. The hole itself is a long one-shotter, guarded by a tree of impertinent centrality, a concealing mound, and the next tee, upon which innocent men stand in peril of assassination. From this point Corrie ceases to be a little course and becomes an adventure.”

Hole 3 – Shiskine

“To come to Shiskine for racquets is, I suppose, a lawful act, but one perilously close to folly. At the third, the golfer is invited to propel his ball not so much forward as heavenward, over a blind dune and into the keeping of the gods. With antique weapons this is less a shot than a petition, and many a poor soul will spend half his life imprisoned short of the hill. Yet gain the green, and the view forgives all – even the previous stroke.”

Hole 4 – Shiskine

“At Shiskine’s fourth, the tee lies so indecently close to the previous green that a man of festive habits might reach it by accident. Then, having climbed to the heavens, he is asked to send the ball tumbling seaward beneath cliffs of tremendous photographic vanity. There is little here to detain the strategist, and thank goodness for it. One merely strikes, watches the ball hang in the air like a thought reluctant to descend, and then proceeds carefully downwards, preserving life, limb and scorecard in that order.”

Hole 5 – Lamlash

“At Lamlash’s fifth, the golfer finds that Arran still has some downhill extravagance in reserve, and must compose himself beside the road while an Austin Seven coughs impertinently in his backswing. There are grander treasures here – the sixth with its diminutive Biarritz, and the fifteenth, where Holy Island sits so near one feels a meaty Brassie might disturb the meditations of the Buddhist monks. Yet this bogey four, plunging sternly to a most exacting green, has virtues of its own. It is not the subtlest hole on the island, but it is a very fine way of losing one’s balance.”

Hole 6 – Shiskine

“After a scenic truce at Lamlash, the road brings us back to Shiskine, as all sensible men should return, with clubs in the hand and no foolish traffic with racquets. The sixth, much like the third, is another of those holes which, had Macdonald but seen it, might have sent half Long Island back to the drawing-board. The fairway lies rumpled like a bed abandoned by an unrepentant sleeper, full of kicks, humours and subterranean opinions. Strike it nobly, and the ball may find the punchbowl and steal onward to a green tucked beneath the dunes, not built among them so much as born there.”

Hole 7 – Shiskine

“At Shiskine’s seventh we bid farewell only because the course has but twelve holes, and Arran’s other giants must not be left sulking outside. It is blind, wild, exhilarating golf, in which Providence is allowed a seat on the committee and luck is not rudely excluded. Innovation on the links commonly ends with pouring sherry into Bovril, yet here they possess a pulley system to announce when the green is clear, of which Leonardo himself might have been immoderately proud. It is absurd, thrilling, and entirely as golf on Arran ought to be.”

Hole 8 – Whiting Bay

“At Whiting Bay’s eighth we make our first acquaintance with a course that will, I suspect, not remain a stranger for long. Here is heroic golf of the most invigorating sort, demanding a drive crept as near the gorge as courage, or foolishness, permits. There follows an approach of some hundred and fifty yards, to be launched over the peaceful residences of red squirrels, who have done nothing to deserve such treatment. A match won here in eight is scarcely less stirring than one won in four, and infinitely more probable.”

Hole 9 – Lamlash

“At Lamlash’s ninth one finds a hole of such scale that Yale might have claimed it, had Arran not first hidden it among views fit to quicken even Captain Cook. The fairway tumbles down the hill like a grand piano escaping its creditors, and the approach is a beautiful torment one could suffer a hundred times without complaint. On a warm day Ted Ray might have reached the green by striking the ball merely well enough to let gravity do the rest.”

Hole 10 – Whiting Bay

“At Whiting Bay’s tenth we are high upon the property, in a region so lush that Scotland appears to have borrowed a corner of the tropics and forgotten to return it. The fairway is of almost indecent width, being shared with two neighbouring holes, yet the golfer is soon asked to dogleg left, negotiate a ditch, and approach half-blind to a square green most neatly quarried into the hill. It is a splendidly awkward business. Par is one enemy, but the midges, resident and implacable, are quite another.”

Hole 11 – Machrie Bay (2nd)

“Our eleventh is in truth Machrie Bay’s second, for a nine-hole course may very properly be asked to serve again. Lochranza and Shiskine, being furnished with eleven and twelve holes respectively, are less easily doubled, though neither can complain of neglect upon this card. Here we have a long one-shotter over heather, fern and broken ground where one aims at a marker resembling prayer beads, which is just as well, for prayer is not out of place. Yet on reaching the green one finds the hole kinder than it looked, and one’s terror exposed as quite unnecessary – a beautiful trick on the eye.”

Hole 12 – Whiting Bay

“At Whiting Bay’s twelfth the schoolboy in the golfer is suddenly set free. The hole plunges seaward, with Turnberry’s lighthouse visible across the bay to those whose monocles are of the proper strength, and Willie Park sets his dilemma plainly. Lay up short of the dune and accept a blind approach, like Rye with grander theatrics, or strike boldly over it and trust the ball to run straight, downward, and mercifully on. It is a choice between prudence and joy, and no healthy soul should require much time to decide.”

Hole 13 – Corrie (4th)

“At Corrie’s fourth, smuggled somewhat dishonestly into the card as our thirteenth, Arran again proves that level ground is a rumour rather than a principle. The shot plunges downward towards a little forest alive with birds, burn and rock, and for a moment one might forget both Scotland and score. Behind it all stands a backdrop of such prehistoric confidence that the golfer feels less invited to play than commanded to admire. It is a one-shotter of great spirit, and another charming act of island larceny.”

Hole 14 – Whiting Bay

“At Whiting Bay’s fourteenth one begins to pity the knees, for Arran, having sent us downhill twice already, now contrives a third descent, this time slyly across the slope. It is a short hole, tempting to the bold and ruinous to the crooked, where a three may win the day and a four may yet escape with its collar intact. Pull it left, however, and arithmetic becomes a dark and private matter. The green, as is Whiting Bay’s agreeable habit, is a square cut handsomely into the hillside, like a card-table set for mischief.”

Hole 15 – Brodick

“At Brodick, the fifth made a brave petition, being a dogleg bogey five of such severity that two perfect shots are required merely to remain respectable, and anything less sends a man ricocheting among trees in search of assistance. But the fifteenth was never seriously in danger of exclusion. It is a short hole across the estuary, so unexpectedly splendid that Pebble Beach itself might blush to find it in Brodick. The walk over the bridge, putter in hand, beneath mountains and golden eagles, is enough to make even Sarazen feel seven feet tall.”

Hole 16 – Corrie (7th)

“At Corrie’s seventh, our sixteenth, the tee is so shallow that a postage stamp might consider it parsimonious. One may stand upon the brink and play from a downslope like a condemned man, or retreat a pace and imperil the backswing upon a stone wall of unfriendly antiquity. The hole itself is blameless – 270 downhill yards of breadth, beauty and temptation. Playing safe is wisdom, but golf was not invented for wise men, and the green glimmers near enough to ruin them.”

Hole 17 – Whiting Bay

“At Whiting Bay’s seventeenth, we at last climb, and are rewarded with a green that deserves to be whispered of with Prestwick’s thirteenth, St Andrews’ second and sixteenth, and Cruden Bay’s fifth. It is smaller than those celebrated monsters, but so violently disposed that the solitary greenkeeper can cut the hole in perhaps two places and still sleep at night. To be above it is to occupy a position of exquisite social embarrassment. It is a green etched deep into the memory of any golfer worthy of its brilliance.”

Hole 18 – Machrie Bay (9th)

“For the last place upon this deranged scorecard, Lamlash’s ninth made a gallant case, but Machrie Bay’s own ninth possesses the proper closing thunder. It is but 250 yards, downhill over the road to a green set so delicately by the water that one feels as though he has wandered, niblick in hand, into a Rountree painting. Here is risk, reward, and the final chance to be either a hero or a public nuisance. Happily, the clubhouse tuck shop lies close at hand, where the vanquished may seek consolation in barley sugar, liquorice allsorts and something stronger taken without medical advice.”

You would be forgiven for looking at this card and thinking it lacks variety, but the reality is that Arran only has two par 5s on the whole island, and its longest course is 4,750 yards.

The variety lies not in the numbers, but in the holes themselves and the land they sit on. And, in the end, the final card is one we could quite happily play for the rest of our days.

If DAIrwin has inspired you to visit Arran with your clubs, you will not be disappointed. It is a wonderful island, and we cannot wait to release the film from our day there.

Finally, thanks must go to Sam Altman and Bernard Darwin for making this blog possible. A sentence I never thought I would write…