I’ve always believed the best way to understand a place is to walk its edges, talk to its locals, and—when given the chance—say yes to the unexpected. That belief has taken me down ancient alleyways, up the Dolomites, across the Sahara, and not long ago, above the Irish cliff’s edge – with golf club in hand and hope in my heart. 

That’s where I found myself—having traded in my retired-business stilettos for the first of many pairs in what’s now a beloved closet full of G/Fore golf shoes. My partner stood nearby, my caddie close behind, as we approached the first tee at Old Head Golf Links in County Cork, Ireland.

The Old Head wasn’t just another scenic stop. It was the start of something new: a leap into a game I barely knew, on a course I’d never forget, in a country that knows how to welcome you like kin. And somehow, it felt exactly right.

Built on a site of immense historic significance, this is no ordinary course—it sits atop a rugged promontory that’s been home to ancient settlements for over 5,000 years. At its entrance, the Lusitania Museum and Memorial Garden honors those lost in the 1915 maritime tragedy just off this coast—adding yet another layer of historical weight to the ground beneath your spikes. 

For those unfamiliar, Old Head isn’t just another championship course. It’s a masterpiece carved into a windswept peninsula that juts dramatically into the Celtic Sea, surrounded by sheer cliffs and soul-stirring views. At its tip stands the Old Head Lighthouse, built in 1853 and still active today—guiding ships for over 170 years, and golfers for perhaps just as long. Every shot feels like a brush with the elements—and history.

The team behind the course—the O’Connor family—has masterfully preserved both the cultural and ecological significance of the land. Brothers John and Patrick O’Connor, and now Lhara O’Connor as CEO, have maintained a remarkable balance between world-class golf and environmental stewardship. Their dedication to excellence is evident in every detail, from course conditions to the reverence shown for the peninsula’s fragile habitat.

My partner was already a member at Old Head. He was generous, thoughtful, and genuinely believed I had the potential to fall in love with the game. In classic form—ever the veteran Marine aviator—he set me up for success by arranging golf lessons at the Pebble Beach Golf Academy with my now favorite coach, Kevin Hanssen.

That day marked the beginning of what’s now become a cherished chapter of my life as an Old Head member. And every time I step onto that dramatic peninsula, it still feels like a humbling challenge and a gift I don’t take for granted.

To be clear: I was new to golf—but not new to taking a swing at something unfamiliar. I’ve always been athletic, and during warm-up on the range, it became clear that my short game had a mind of its own, and my swing, while enthusiastic, was still in search of rhythm. Let’s just say my expectations were tempered, and my hopes mostly revolved around not making a complete idiot of myself.

Enter Brian, the starter—my first real introduction to “proper” golf. Built like he moonlights as a bouncer but most likely a champion Rugby player, with a grin wide enough to disarm even the most nervous of newcomers, he handed me a scorecard with a cheerful but pointed heads-up: “Try to stay out of the hazards, yeah?” It was less a warning and more a rite of passage. 

And then came the drive. My first full swing at Old Head lifted—cleanly, almost confidently—into the open air. A small miracle, really, and proof that sometimes, beginner’s luck shows up when you need it most. Old Head was a dramatic, even poetic, choice for a first full round. But after years of chronicling stories about others leaping into the unknown, I figured it was time I lived a chapter or two of my own. Fore!

I won’t pretend it was perfect. But this wasn’t just about golf. It was about giving myself permission—

We teed off on the first hole with my first caddie, Roger—an expert in calm confidence, quick Irish wit, and an uncanny knowledge of every plant on the links—who quietly took the reins for the four-hour challenge ahead.

He never flinched at a pulled shot or a missed putt. His easy charm and well-timed humor kept me grounded, even when my game wobbled. Without fuss, he’d hand me the next club with a nod. I soon learned from other caddies that a lot of my shots were “son-in-law shots. Not exactly what you expected, but it turned out okay.” I laughed and carried on—wondering if golf was the only sport where mediocrity came with a family tree.

And maybe—for the first time during those four-plus hours of swinging, sweating, and still trying to understand what “keep your head down” actually meant—I realized golf wasn’t just a sport. It was a balancing act. An awkward dance with technique and trust and sometimes, as my cousin Guido Migliozzi, a pro golfer, once told me after one of his breathtaking drives on the 18th hole at St. Andrews: “Sometimes you give to the course, and sometimes the course gives back.” That day, I gave it my best… and every once in a while, Old Head gave something back. 

Over the years, I’ve had several unforgettable caddies at Old Head—each one adding a unique layer to my experience. There was Danny, a quiet philosopher with a wicked sense of humor who kept me laughing between shots. Fergus, a local farmer, turned every round into a walking heritage tour with his deep knowledge of the land and its lore. And then there was Barry, whose gentle coaching helped me slow my tempo and breathe in the beauty—pointing out the protected hares lounging in the grass, likely judging my swing with calm, furry skepticism. It’s not always easy to take it all in when pace of play is on your mind, but they somehow made it possible. Each was a skilled golfer, part coach, part storyteller, part stand-up comic—and now, I’m lucky to call them lifelong friends.

The magic of Old Head doesn’t end on the 18th green. From the moment you arrive—windblown and a little wide-eyed—you’re welcomed like an old friend. This isn’t just a world-class golf course; it’s a family-run legacy that understands hospitality in its truest Irish form.

The O’Connor family, who founded and steward Old Head, has built a team that’s as exceptional as the views. True to its name, The Suite Desk welcomes you not just as a guest, but as family returning home. Somehow, the pro shop staff know your style better than your own closet does. And the dining team? They turn every post-round pint or plate of fresh-caught fish into a celebration and a family reunion.

If you do wander off campus—and you should—you’ll find yourself in nearby Kinsale, a lively harbor town full of color, music, and some of the best seafood restaurants in Ireland. The chowder is rich, the conversation easy, and the local shopkeepers’ energy unmistakably warm.

Hazards Ahead: A Survival Guide for the Bold and Underprepared

There are hazards on every golf course—bunkers, water, wind. At Old Head, they come with sea spray, vertical cliffs, and a stiff Atlantic breeze that makes every shot an adventure. Here’s what I learned as a first-timer with hopeful swings, big dreams, and just enough grit to keep going:

1. The Hazards are No Place for the Curious.

That patch of sea grass near the edge might look benign—but chasing your ball there is not recommended. Especially when the cliffs drop straight into the Celtic Sea.

2. Wind is Not a Metaphor.

This isn’t a gentle breeze. It’s the Celtic Sea telling you who’s boss. Best to adjust, surrender, and lean into the challenge.

3. The Hares Are Judging You.

Old Head is home to protected Irish hares who lounge around like they own the place (they sort of do). If you catch one watching your swing, just know—you’re being evaluated.

4. Golf Etiquette is Real. But So Is Having Fun.

Yes, I learned to stay out of someone’s line and out of sight during swings. But the greatest lesson? Don’t take yourself too seriously and remember the next shot is going to be a good one. That, and learning to love your 7-iron. Which I do. But I’ll save that story for another round.

5. Your Score Might Not Be Low, But Your Spirits Will Be High.

You won’t master the course. But you will feel alive. And if you’re lucky, you’ll hit one clean, soaring shot that makes every topped ball and duffed iron totally worth it.

That first day at Old Head wasn’t just a round of golf—it was a new beginning in time. A line drawn in sea mist, salt air, and the kind of light only Ireland can conjure. A reminder that new chapters can start at any age, on any fairway. And when they do, they can be humbling, breathtaking—and undeniably exhilarating.

As I walked off the final green—sun dipping low, hair hopelessly tangled, soul settled—I knew something had shifted. This wasn’t just the start of my golf journey. 

It was the beginning of a whole new way to experience nature, culture, travel, and love.

In my former life, I published stories about fascinating destinations and co-authored The 100 Best All-Inclusive Resorts of the World. But this new chapter isn’t about rankings or luxury. It’s about being open. Curious. Willing to feel a little foolish if it means discovering something extraordinary.

The Irish weather has two forecasts…

Periods of sunshine with occasional showers or periods of showers with occasional sunshine… and they’re always right!

What I Packed (and What I Should Have Packed):

Local Flavor:

Just about anything on the menu, but my favorite après-golf meal always includes the seafood chowder served hot with brown bread and a sea view that makes every triple bogey fade away.

What I Learned:

Just because you’re new doesn’t mean you don’t belong.

And always take the caddie’s advice—especially when he says, “Just aim out over the sea and trust it’ll come back.” Really? Sounds like magic and when the wind cooperates, it’s a thing of beauty.  When it doesn’t well, what’s another lost ball?

July: Cape Clear Island Lavender Festival — Serving as Chief Events Officer—a title which loosely translates to herding cats, cows, and curious travelers. If it blooms or wanders, I’m in charge.

August: The Belfry, host of the British Masters in Sutton Coldfield, England. I’ll be there cheering on my cousin, pro golfer Guido Migliozzi—fingers crossed he lets me caddy a single hole (or at least carry his snacks).

September: The PURE Insurance Championship, Pebble Beach. Proud to serve as Chair of Player Hospitality—supporting pro players, their families, and incredible First Tee students from across the country. It’s part concierge, part cheerleader, and emergency support sherpa (and I love it all).