History Of Strathtay Golf Club - pt II
He had inherited his title on his father John Steuart's death in 1895, as the eldest son of a family of eight children; but he inherited comparatively little else. Ballechin, when it fell to him, was encumbered with mortgages. Money had virtually run out. He was apparently not even able to move into the grand Ballechin House where he had spent his childhood - a mansion standing proudly on the hillside, complete with its legendary ghosts: a large black dog, an elderly priest (the Steuarts were devotedly Catholic), a lady in a white dress. When John Steuart died, Ballechin House had to be first let and then sold, along with the bulk of the estate itself. Perhaps things began to go amiss for the Steuarts as early as 1876. The male succession of the line, unbroken for four hundred years, came to an end. Major Robert Steuart ignored his duty to get married and died childless. He was obliged to leave the estate to the son of his widowed sister Mary. Mary's married name was Skinner: Robert's nephew and heir was thus John Skinner, who duly adopted the name of Steuart and moved with his wife and growing family into the great house, to be lord and lady of Ballechin. The Steuart bloodline was enabled to continue, although somewhat thinned in the process.
Captain Steuart's misfortune in coming to inherit an empty title seems to have stemmed from his immediate forebears' passion for building. Major Robert had a substantial property, Tulliepowrie House, built on the banks of the Tay in Strathtay village; John Steuart, born John Skinner, erected the even grander Tower House for his second son Frank, just across the road. The possession of a vast and ancient estate, a fine mansion and a title, is perhaps inclined to foster the illusion that money is limitless and expense no object. The Steuarts of Ballechin were by no means the only great family to discover that such an assumption is unwise. Captain John Malcolm Steuart was at least able to make his home in Tulliepowrie House, and we can presume that a fair amount of land went with it. His much reduced circumstances still left him as a country gentleman, with a considerable swatch of ground around the village of Strathtay to call his own. And on this land he seized "on the idea of creating a golf course.
He was, we know, a keen golfer; but it would be unfair to suppose he urged this project from a purely selfish motive of wanting a course just along the road to play on. He would have noted the growing number of visitors to north Perthshire. The age of the motor car was still to come, but a network of railways took people all over the Highlands. There was a branch line from Ballinluig to Aberfeldy, with a station at Grandtully. Clearly a golf course would be an additional reason for tourists and holiday-makers to stop and stay. Strathtay provided fresh air, picturesque scenery, excellent shooting and fishing in season, but so did other places: a special attraction was needed. Golf, too, was a pastime that the whole family could enjoy together - or where spouses could find solace if abandoned for the pursuit of salmon, grouse or stags. The people of Strathtay themselves must have shown some enthusiasm for Captain Steuart's idea: those who, like himself, had played the game before, and those who welcomed the opportunity to have a novel form of recreation on their doorstep. Nor should we imagine that the project imposed months or years of back-breaking toil on those who undertook the task. The creation of a golf course today is an elaborate and expensive business. The architect will incorporate certain features of the landscape into his plan, but any that do not suit his grand scheme will be removed. Greens will be carefully sculpted, with the planned shape and varying contours built into them. The architect may want additional features, such as lakes, or he may want certain fairways to slope one way or another. The fleet of earthmoving equipment at his disposal allows him to play God over the designated acres. The designer of a golf course in 1909 had neither the facilities nor the desire to defy or enhance what nature intended. He respected and accepted the features of the area, and got on with it. It is a lot cheaper and less labour-intensive to do things this way.
On the north bank of the Tay, just across from Grandtully on the south, the ground rises steeply, flattens out for a bit, and then surges up once more to the mountainous ridge that divides Strathtay from its northern neighbour Strathtummel. This flat area, used for grazing, was the only part of the Tulliepowrie property that could serve as a golf course. It was not ideal. "Flat" is a comparative term: it has very noticeable ups and downs. There were two groves of oak trees in the middle of it, one small and the other very big. There seemed to be room - whatever permutations were tried out -for only eight holes, so one fairway had to push up an outrageously steep hillside to an elevated green. This fifth hole, a stiff test of physical fitness, is known as Spion Kop, and may well have been named by Captain Steuart himself as a reminder of his military experience (not a happy one) at this place in South Africa. The holes were going to be short: there are five par threes, and only one hole is longer than 300 yards. But it would have to do, and do with less labour and difficulty than we might think. They built very small tees, or even made do with a bit of level ground at the start of a hole. Greens were created by simply selecting an appropriate location for them and then mowing the area as closely as possible: this would be pretty crude at first (like those temporary "winter greens" you get on some courses), but in time they take on a much better texture. To this day four of our greens - the first, third, fifth and ninth - are the original "natural" greens and just as good as those built, at some expense, for the purpose. Fairways, as in all older classic courses, followed the lie of the land. Nothing could be modified or altered: you could only use what was there. Hence the smaller grove of oaks was incorporated into the third hole to provide a sporting challenge. The direct line to the green is up and over the trees, although the player has the option of going down the side of them, treating the hole as a dog-leg. The much bigger area of oak trees had to be bypassed, but the fairways curve their way around it, and the line of oaks poses a wicked hazard on the right of the sixth fairway - and these trees also threaten to catch a wayward drive at the first and the eighth. They are not popular with those members afflicted with a marked slice. There was also a patch of black and peaty bog, which became a much-dreaded feature of the fourth hole (still called Marsh). This extended some fifty yards in front of the tee, and a duffed drive was an expensive mistake. The ball plopped into the marsh, and was liable to disappear with a sinister gurgle. Few were brave or desperate enough to attempt to retrieve it.