When I first moved to Sweden, almost 16 years ago, I, along with my family, moved to a house in Bro. We lived there for just under a year before moving away. A few years later, we returned to the next town up, Bålsta, but it would be a full 13 years after our arrival that we finally moved back, into a house less than a few hundred metres from our original abode. I wasn’t playing much golf when I first came over, but I knew about the golf course that was round the corner. Even when I wasn’t playing, I was a bit of a golf course geek. Bro Hof Slott; continually ranked as one of the top two courses in Sweden, and never far away from being considered amongst the best in mainland Europe. But that wasn’t the kind of place where I could play. Imposter syndrome on the golf course was always something I had suffered from, even with a reasonable handicap, I didn’t think I would be able to tee it up there. In fairness, this was on me; as I would come to know, I have never encountered snobbery in golf courses and clubs like I had back home.
After returning to Bro, with older kids, a (marginally) better bank balance and a lower golf handicap, the thought of playing at Bro Hof Slott was still intimidating, but no longer out of the question. Now it was more a matter of when and who with. I have some golf buddies in Sweden, and I now play a lot with my teenage son, but it's a lot to ask people to shell out a premium green fee if that is not really their thing. However, this was about to change. For the last few years, I have been back to the UK annually to play golf with some of the guys I used to work with, and more importantly, my best friend from the UK. We have had some great trips, and his own friends welcomed me into their circle with open arms when I returned. However, last year, we decided on something different; he was going to come out to Sweden for the first time and we would play some golf together. The pressure was on me to organise something good, but it was also an opportunity. The opportunity.
The aim of the trip, from a golf perspective, was to play as much golf as we could squeeze into the week as possible, and that our middle aged, not quite as fit as they used to be bodies, could manage. I had planned a couple of days in Dalarna later in the week, but also saw the opportunity to see what the possibility of playing at Bro Hof Slott could be. As he doesn't have a Swedish Golf ID, I couldn’t book things automatically, but for all the places we played, that wasn’t a problem; I decided to just call and see what we could fix. Yes, I was worried about this; thinking about playing it and calling them to see if we could make it happen are two very different things. But, I have to say, despite what I thought it would be like, they were so nice on the phone, and we got a really great deal and hugely reduced green fees if we played both courses on the same day. It was an offer that was too good to refuse, so I booked us in and waited in anticipation.
I'm not going to lie; in the few months before the trip, my golf game was not trending. I hadn’t played enough, and had gotten into the habit of only playing with my son, who only has the patience for nine holes at a time. I had played eighteen holes once or twice before my friend arrived and to be honest, my driver was being particularly naughty. Once when I was younger I played a premium course, at the K-Club on the Ryder Cup course. I wasn’t as good then, and my driver was really misbehaving and to be honest, it wasn’t the greatest of experiences. It's not nice not being able to even reach the fairway off the tee. Due to some issues at home, he actually arrived two days later than he planned to, late on a Sunday evening. His plane was delayed, which was a pain in the ass, but it meant I got to sneak eighteen holes in on the International Golf Club which is very close to Arlanda Airport itself. However, the downside was it meant we only got back at around 1am in the morning to my house, and the first tee time at Bro Hof was around eight thirty. It was going to be a long day, with very little sleep.
Regardless of the delays, I set my alarm early; I was going to be a good host and make sure that the coffee was on, and the excuse that we have for bacon in Sweden would be on the grill before he woke up. I did my part well apart from one thing. The weather; obviously I had forgotten to book the sunshine. When I woke up, the sky was dull, grey and overcast, much more like Manchester than Stockholm, and it was absolutely throwing it down. Sometimes it eased off, but most of the time, it was torrential. Damn. Luckily, when you are from the UK, the rain is something you get used to so we had the rain gear, but it was potentially going to spoil the perfect day we had planned. So after coffee, more coffee and bacon sandwiches, we packed up, jumped in the car, and started on our way.
For many who are approaching Bro Hof Slott for the first time, probably from central Stockholm itself, it will be a journey up the E18. For us, it was a little easier. Throw the gear into the car, and then probably not much more than 5 minutes, across behind the railway station, past the beautiful little church at Bro and then turning onto the long driveway of the castle and golf club itself. It would have been a bit quicker, but I made my buddy get out and have his photo taken next to one of the runestones that sits next to the road just before you arrive at the castle. Luckily, the rain had eased a little and I still think it's cool to see these things dotted in and around the place now. He enjoyed it; I think!
It's interesting when you arrive into the car parking area at Bro Hof Slott. You drive between some of the holes from Castle Course, in particular one little par three that looks like it should be easy until you see the size of the cavernous bunkers that are around it. The actual car park where you end up is actually to the side of the Slott itself, but you don’t arrive by the most direct route. No, no. You are filtered towards the Castle itself. You reach the large gates at the bottom of the drive towards it and then wait for them to open automatically. It's pretty magical; and also pretty intimidating at the same time. I am assuming it is part of the experience itself. When they open, you drive round the courtyard at the top, right next to the Slott, and Pro Shop, and then get filtered sideways down to the car park. At that point you are truly in the complex and there is no turning back.
The Pro Shop at Bro Hof is located in a smallish building that sits on the courtyard, adjacent to the castle itself. From the outside, it is quaint and certainly sits perfectly into its surroundings. I am very pleased to say, despite the weather, my friend was already drinking in the surroundings and more than happy with the morning, in spite of the miserable weather. However, his day was about to become even better. Now, when you are a middle aged bloke from the UK, most people in Sweden tend to look at the more attractive end of the good looking scale. I mean, have you seen Ludvig Åberg? Well, as a twice divorced guy, my friend had already been joking that the trip would be an opportunity for him to find a Swedish wife so he could stay over forever, walked into the Pro Shop, his view of Swede’s was not diminished as we were greeted by two ladies and one guy who we will diplomatically describe as ‘typically Swedish’.
On a serious note, the welcome we received was amazing. Personal, caring and dare I use the word; premium. After paying our greenfees, we were handed a wide variety of goodies that were, I guess now, all part of the package. As my wife reminded me when we got home, we had certainly paid for everything we got as part of the green fee, but that didn’t matter. That morning, we felt special and that is what the experience is meant to feel like. After packing the tees, the scorecards and course guides, the leather, brass tags for our golf bags and Bro Hof labelled water bottles, we were ready to get out and start to hit some balls. I’ll avoid the details of the story of how my friend got caught out trying on some premium golf clothes and then wasn’t brave enough to tell the lady who was helping him that he didn't want them as they cost more than his green fee so he bought them anyway. I don’t want to embarrass him even more.
For my part, I embarrassed myself by asking a typical question that all golfers who aren't used to being at a course like Bro Hof ask; where can I get tokens for the driving range. When I asked, of course the response was, ‘the balls are already out there, just go and hit’. Schoolboy error on my part. When we got there, as promised, next to every bay on the range, there was a large box of premium golf balls, along with a trackman so that we could really get to see how much we were slicing our initial attempts with the driver. Of course, we blamed the rain, because to be honest, at this point, it was like sheet water! After fifteen minutes or so of ball spraying to all corners of the range, and maybe a couple out of it, we decided we needed to make our way down to the first tee of the Castle Course, which we would be playing first. There is something nice about seeing your name on a computer screen in the starter hut; after all, it's nice for the starter to know who to be able to laugh quietly after a shanked first drive.
Luckily for us, when we got to the first tee, circumstances had developed in our favour on numerous fronts. As the weather had been so bad, there were very few people teeing off around us; this gave us wiggle room, both before, and after. The guy in Pro Shop had also said as there were not many people booked, there would be no starter there so we could go when we were ready. So that’s less people to laugh at us as well. Finally, and most importantly, the weather had eased up a bit. It was still very wet underfoot, but the rain had slowed to a light drizzle and the umbrella became about keeping the clubs and grips dry rather than ourselves. At last, this was it; for my friend, it was his first round in Sweden. For me, it was a round that I had been planning in my head for over a decade. No pressure then.
As he was ready, my friend decided he would go first. He pulled out his driver after all, the opening hole is a par five and to take the safe option of an iron would make the hole even longer than it is anyway. Also, when you are on a golf trip, no-one takes an iron on the first tee. Now I haven’t mentioned his level of golf before, but feel I should at this point. He played, at the time, off twenty seven. I know. Actually, in fairness to him, there will be three or four holes every round where he looks like a twenty seven handicapper at best. But, a lot of the time, he looks so much better than that. When he is playing well, he could easily fool you into thinking he plays of low teens. Frustratingly for me, this was one of those times. As he turned to me with a smile after pinging the ball nearly three hundred yards straight down the right side of the fairway all I could do was imagine the sombrero he should be wearing instead of his golf cap.
My turn. Playing partner in the fairway a long way down, and my last five drives on the range a combination of dirty slices and power fades, I had very little option to try to start it off down the left and hope that my unnaturally natural shot shape left me in a position where I had a shot. In fairness, the space to hit on the first hole on the Castle Course is wide if you include the area which we can say is playable rough. The good news is, I hit a fantastic drive. The bad news was also that I hit a fantastic drive. Straight. If I had aimed down the middle, it would have been perfect; but as I said, I started it out left, so that is where it stayed. Just for good measure, it had a tiny little bit of draw. Walking to the ball, which when I got there had just sneaked into the longer rough, and by that I mean, really long, we both actually felt a sense of relief. The course was quiet; the rain was almost non existent and although the ground was wet, we had both packed spare socks. We were on our way.
If you are interested, and not that it mattered, we both had sevens. The bandit got two shots, so it was a net par for him and a bogey for me. All things considered, not too bad at all. In reality, the score on that hole, or on the Castle Course overall didn’t really matter, we were there and playing together for the first time in months and time with your golf buddies on a trip like this is what matters. For us, as we don’t live in the same country anymore is precious and the fact we were able to have time together in such an amazing place made it all the better.
In all honesty, I hadn’t really paid any attention to the Castle Course before our arrival. I knew a little about it and that it was highly ranked in most people's top Swedish courses. I was of the opinion that I was there to play the Stadium Course and it was cool to be able to play on the Castle as well. In reality, it was a fantastic morning and my friend and I had an amazing time. Considering the amount of rain there had been, the course played well. The water levels in the hazards were high, and I only nearly fell in one of the small lakes once. For me, the fourth was a highlight; I have never seen a hole with such a large bunker and, yes, I got my money's worth by taking two shots from it. When we were coming down the final two holes, we were both actually pretty wet. Interestingly, it had obviously been raining, but neither of us had really noticed it. That is testament to the quality of the course and the fun we had playing it. The Slott is in full view as you come down the last, and at that point we were already discussing what we would do for lunch. We had planned to eat the snacks we had packed, but after the morning we had, we thought we would go all in.
After trying our best to dry off, change some clothing and not feel like we had been in the bath too long, we ventured into the Slott itself for food. Now, I want to be clear. I am not a foody, although my changing figure may not convince you of that. No, I rarely eat at restaurants and rarely take pleasure in food. So the idea of eating at a fancy restaurant has always been of zero appeal to me. Huge amounts of money, for half a plate of food, that probably won’t fill me up anyway? No chance. However, today was different. My friend was hungry, and I knew I had to make it through another eighteen holes in the afternoon. The last thing I wanted was to let my hunger spoil what I had been waiting for years to do. But, the Pringles, rice cakes and rolls I had packed were not going to do the business. By the time I got into the restaurant, my friend was already sitting down and flirting with the waitress. Silly as it sounds, it's always a bit awkward knowing whether I should speak Swedish in these situations, or just revert to English. My Swedish is not great, but it's good enough to be understood and I always feel I should try. My friend was trying to work out what to have, and I was firm with him. He had to have the traditional Swedish meatballs, with mash, lingon berries and sauce. Yes. Like you have in Ikea, but better. The restaurant at Bro Hof Slott is under the stewardship of the famous Swedish chef, Pontus Frithiof, and of course, I had to pretend I knew who he was and how good his food was. I bluffed and I think I got away with it.
Ok, the food was not cheap, but it was not obscenely expensive either. Svensk köttbullar med gräddsås, pressgurka, rårörda lingon & potatispuré. Sounds much more sophisticated in Swedish. I never imagined that I would spend time writing about the food I was eating, let alone, take photographs of it. But here I am. The food was outstanding. I do not have the vocabulary and intellect to do it justice, so I won’t try too hard. But, safe to say, the homemade meatballs alone were worth the price and the food along with the coffee made sure that we were both refuelled and ready for the next round. We also decided to help ourselves by deciding to take a buggy out for the second round of the day. The Stadium Course, even from the middle tees, is long and our tired legs needed all the help they could get.
So we had both had the experience of our first opening tee shot earlier in the day, so this one was going to be easier. Right? The opening tee shot on the Stadium Course shouldn't be too difficult. The tees are elevated; there is out of bounds to the left, but, so much space on the right, including the ninth fairway that you have no need to even flirt with the danger. I was up first this time, and as the earlier round had drawn to a close, I had started to find a bit of rhythm and my driver had responded to the threats I had made about buying a new one. Despite the nerves, and the fear that some people were secretly watching us from some of the upstairs rooms in the slott, I managed to hit the ball. Fortunately, I hit the ball pretty well, and while not really long, was nestled on the fairway in the right general direction.
Next it was my friends turn. Remember how I said that for three or fours holes around, he looked very much like a high twenties handicapper? This was one of those holes. Despite the fact that he had scored well on the Castle Course, and driven the ball pretty well, this hole didn’t quite go to plan. The first shot dribbled forward, into the left rough, near the out of bounds wall, behind a tree. Fortunately, it made it past the first tee box. Just. Then his second; it advanced about twenty yards or so. After that, I can’t remember how many he took. It’s fair to say he had left his sombrero in the changing room. The thing is, that's what a course like this can do to you; it can be very humbling.
Making our way around, the Stadium Course was noticeably more challenging; maybe it was the extra length off the tee and perhaps this was coupled with the wind. This part of the plot is much more exposed, and the wind blows hard off Lake Malaren, making every shot harder to calculate. At some points, it felt like a three club wind, which when you are not used to, is really difficult to get your head around. The course itself was in impeccable condition, again, in spite of all the rain. The golf was a grind, but it was an enjoyable grind. A shared challenge with a good friend, which made it even more fun than it would have been solo. While it's hard to pick out highlights, the approach to the fifteenth green, which is fully exposed to the elements, is special, as is playing the island green seventeenth. The hole is short, of the middle tees, we both thought it was a little too short, increasing the demand of the shot significantly. With the wind, it was not much more than half a swing with a wedge and let's just say, a number of donations were made to the water gods.
While I could review every hole and give a breakdown of what was an amazing experience, sometimes it's better to just focus and stress that. Of course, as golfers, we all want to shoot good scores, score some birdies, avoid the doubles or more and try not to dispatch a dozen balls to various unfamiliar parts of the course. But sometimes, and today was one of those days, it really doesn’t matter. Today was about the shared experience. It was about the company. It was about the memories that were created. Both my friend and I talk about this day often; and today, when I said I was writing about it, we shared images, thoughts and chuckles about it. We lived it vicariously again. That is what golf trips and rounds on courses like this are about. It is likely that this year we will do this again; and maybe the second time, we will be looking more at our cards and trying to see if we can beat our handicaps on a top tier course. But these memories will never be overwritten.
