What it’s like to play on a 1,000km-long golf course in the Australian outback

The idea was cooked up over one too many vinos, but somehow building the world’s longest golf course in one of the most remote parts of the planet became a reality

Dressed to impress on the world's longest golf course (Nullarbor Links)

“Wouldn’t go left here mate,” my caddie Phil warns me as I observe the view from the tee at the fourth hole of the Nullarbor Links. “That’s death adder country over there.”

With his sun-weathered face, gruff drawl and regulation singlet and sandals combo, my caddie Phil is the epitome of the no-nonsense Australian. As a result I’ve come to value his frank assessments of play on the world’s longest golf course, a 1,000-kilometre track that extends between the towns of Ceduna in South Australia and Kalgoorlie in WA and will take me three days to complete.

Disconcerted, but somewhat more focused, I concentrate on hitting the fairway – a crusty expanse of parched dirt. I catch my drive sweetly, but it catches a pockmark on the acne-scarred face of the ground and diverts at a right angle into a (presumably) reptile-infested thicket. “Best hit another one,” says Phil.

Such is the way of things on a course that eschews traditional golfing terrain for the barely charted vastness of the Aussie outback.

Named after the region it inhabits, the Nullarbor Plain, the course proceeds through one of the most desolate landscapes on the planet.

John Eyre, the English explorer who, in 1841, became the first outsider to cross the Nullarbor Plain didn’t have many good things to say about the area. “A hideous anomaly, a blot on the face of nature,” he called it. Eyre was exaggerating. There were no roadhouses in those days, and two of his companions were murdered during the expedition.

Nevertheless, the Nullarbor remains something that you pass through on your way to somewhere else. What, mused roadhouse owners in the area, could tempt passing drivers to stop and spend their dollars?

Killer drive: writer Duncan tackles the Nullarbor Links (Duncan Forgan)

Enter Bob Bongiorno, the former manager of a roadhouse in the settlement of Balladonia (population 20). What was required, he concluded over a few bottles of wine with his mate Alf Caputo, was a global headline-grabber. And so the Nullarbor Links, the world’s longest golf course was born.

With the help of a government grant, a pleasantly soused dream became reality. Robert Stock, a pro from Manchester, England, sketched out plans for the new holes by using Google Maps. The rest of the budget was spent on AstroTurf greens and tees as well as some rudimentary land clearing.

Nine years after that fateful night on the vino, Australian pro Len Thomas gave the Links its first test run, shooting a 78 (that means “very good” in golf-ese) that still stands as the course record.

Finding 'the green' on this golf course isn't easy (Duncan Forgan)

Chopping my way from scrubby patch to scrubby patch I doff an imaginary bush hat to his incredible achievement. I’m discovering, you see, that not only is the Nullarbor Links the longest golf course in the world, it is arguably its toughest.

After an acceptable start my play heads south. After reloading on the fourth tee under the curious gaze of a group of kangaroos, I manage to avoid an encounter with any reptiles. By now, however, it is my game that has become poisonous.

Six more shots and four putts on the deceptively speedy artificial green and I’m signing for a 10 – translation: “woeful”. It’s an ignominious pattern that will repeat itself on virtually every hole from here until Kalgoorlie, the final stop for westbound golfers.

“We don’t pretend to be something we’re not,” says Caputo as I join him at the bar at the Madura Roadhouse, the centre of another tiny community on the Roe Plains.

The place is very typical of the roadhouses dotted along the lonely Eyre Highway – accommodation in two parallel rows of low concrete buildings, plain but adequate, and a restaurant that does a roaring trade in giant breakfasts, burgers and T-bone steaks. It also has a homely bar with threadbare carpets and a line in tacky sporting memorabilia. “We know that the course is not a conventional one,” Caputo tells me. “But it is totally unique and golfers love playing it.”

While my golf skills have vanished as rapidly as a wombat disappearing down its hole, I’m enjoying the non-playing portion of the experience. The scenery is barren, but strangely beautiful. It is also surprisingly rich in anecdotes for such an empty place.

Learning about the legend of the ‘Nullarbor Nymph’ (Duncan Forgan)

In Eucla, on the border of South and West Australia, I learn about the “Nullarbor Nymph”. When professional kangaroo shooters reported that a comely, half-naked blonde was living among the roos in the rugged and unforgiving wilds outside Eucla, the story caused quite a stir, with the news reported around the globe.

The tale, of course, turned out to be a ruse, concocted sometime in the early Seventies over a few beers by the kangaroo shooters and a passing journalist who happened to be drinking in the roadhouse. It is easy to see why locals might want to create fantastical diversions such as the Nullarbor Nymph – and even the Nullarbor Links – as you push onwards through the seemingly endless flat, treeless terrain.

But remote as it is, the scenery possesses a widescreen grandeur that is hard to dismiss. At the towering Bunda Cliffs, the Southern Ocean pounds an elemental beat upon the rocks. Further along at Eucla, chimneys and brick arches emerge from giant sand dunes as nature reclaims what was once Australia’s busiest telegraph station.


 While much of the scenery along the route is barren, it’s also beautiful 
 (Duncan Forgan)

Like the barely-changing scenery, the holes on the golf course begin to blend together. I hack my way down craterous fairways and out of unyielding scrub, all the while taking an eternity to get the measure of the synthetic greens.

The golf ends in Kalgoorlie, a boomtown where gold mining has long made this a place where people come to seek their fortune. While the downturn in Australia’s mining industry has brought an end to the days when the city had more millionaires per square metre than any other place in Oz, it is still a palpably prosperous place.

This is the sort of sight you can expect to see in a landscape so remote (Duncan Forgan)

The temporary mine workers who roll in for a few months to boost their bank accounts create a particularly lively atmosphere. The city is blessed with a roughhewn, Wild West charm. Local bars are famous for their “skimpies” – waitresses who work in their underwear – and the main drag could easily serve as a shoot-out scene in a classic cowboy movie. After completing my round I enjoy a steak dinner fit for a sheriff on the cantilevered balcony at the Palace Hotel, a classic from the early days of the gold rush.

Perth, in contrast, is the epitome of a modern Australian city. After four days of petrified landscapes and otherworldly emptiness, it’s a relief to see healthy trees and people. But over dinner and drinks that night, my thoughts can’t help but return to the Nullarbor. Could the contours of the land have been put to better use? Would draining less cold beer between holes have made a difference to my game?

Perhaps I’ll be back to test these theories out one day. But 1,000-plus kilometres is a lot of ground to cover – especially when you are playing badly. So for now I’m happy to be back in the sanctity of civilisation and well out of range of death adder country.

Travel essentials

Getting there

Emirates (emirates.com) flies to Perth and Adelaide via Dubai from Heathrow, Gatwick, Glasgow, Birmingham and Manchester. Return fares start at £650.

From Perth, it’s around an 8-hour drive, or one-hour flight on either Qantas (qantas.com) or Virgin Atlantic (virginatlantic.com), to Kalgoorlie, the western end of the Nullarbor Links. From Adelaide, it takes around 8-hours' driving, or a one-hour flight on Rex Airlines (rex.com.au), to get to Ceduna, at the eastern end of the course. Advance bookings of 4x4s are essential if driving.

Staying there

Accommodation while travelling along the Nullarbor Links is limited to the roadhouses scattered along the route. Most offer clean and simple accommodation and no-frills Aussie tucker like burgers and fry-ups. Expect to pay around AU$140 (£82) for a room based on two people sharing. In Kalgoorlie, the Rydges Plaza Hotel (rydges.com; rooms from $204) has smart rooms and a nice pool. In Perth, COMO The Treasury (comohotels.com; rooms from $420) is an excellent bet while the Intercontinental (icadelaide.com.au; rooms from $175) is Adelaide's grande dame.

Playing there

The Nullarbor Links cost $70 to play. For that you get a map, brochures, scorecard and a certificate if you complete the course. Sign up at the visitor centres in Ceduna, Kalgoorlie or Norseman. Allow four days to play the course comfortably, although you could do it in three (kalgoorlie.com/nullarborlinks).

More information

australiasgoldenoutback.com