IC XIII photo stories

From http://bsvgolf.blogspot.com/

If you've never played at Costa Adeje, a warning - watch out for the terraces on the fairways - particularly if you're driving a buggy:

We had dinner that evening at the hotel's Las Rocas restaurant and afterwards, most of the rest of us - at least those who could still stay vertical - retired to the lounge where there was a Polynesian Evening advertised. Unfortunately, we were too late, but there was a two piece band playing, and it didn't take Dan long to get in the mood and get up on stage and dance with the singer:

On Sunday, it was off to Golf del Sur. Archie was playing at the first par 3 and thinned his tee shot - straight into, and through, the large cacti just in front of the tee. We never did find his ball, but it definitely went through the first large succulent cactus:

Monday dawned and the sun shone brightly as we made our way down to the port at Los Christianos to catch the ferry to La Gomera. Although Ian had not joined us on the first day - preferring instead to watch the Chelsea - Arsenal match - he did come along every other day, walking the courses and acting as unpaid ball-spotter. Here he is with Dick, basking in the sun as the ferry docks:

Tecina was, as usual, beautiful, and we got wonderful views of volcanic Mount Teide on the main island from virtually every hole. Syd was more concerned, however, with minimising his stats. He pushed his tee shot right at one of the par 3's and it went out of bounds in to the deepest of undergrowths. We drove up and he spotted his ball about 15 feet in and decided he could avoid a lost ball stat by fighting through the branches, aided and abetted by his playing partner:

Yes - Syd is in there somewhere!

The next hole brought about the clincher for the Wee Cup.Three of us teed off, followed by Syd, who pushed his drive right into a row of palm trees. I watched it carefully and said to Ken that it had gone into the 3rd palm along in the row, pointing to to it as I pushed my foot down on the accelerator on the buggy. We moved forward and a few seconds later Ken said "stop!". Perhaps a couple of days of Iberian Cup excesses slowed my reactions, but I didn't respond quickly enough and carried on, and then Ken's pleas became more urgent and I suddenly realised what he was on about as I heard a crunching sound underneath the buggy.

As the buggy lurched left then right, and up on to three wheels, I had a decision to make - stop, or carry on. I chose the latter option, bringing more crunching noises. Eventually the buggy came to a level spot and we stopped to survey the damage. What a mess - it was a not insubstantial tee marker I had driven over, destroying it in the process. Here's me picking up the pieces:

Not a word was said to the staff - my/our only thought was to get off the island as soon as possible, before they discovered the damage.

It had been a long day in the hot sun and some of our group struggled to keep their eyes open on the bus back to the ferry:

The drive back to San Sebastian afforded some wonderful views of the port and the big island and Mount Tiede beyond:

Dinner that evening was at a nice little Italian, organised by Malcolm. So that was day 3 - the halfway point - over. More to follow.