In the distance, some 150 nerve-wracking yards away, my target — a peninsula green guarded by a clutch of white-sand bunkers and the choppy sea — beckons. A warm, sea-salted wind whips off the water and I just can’t decide which club to choose. To be honest, the jaw-dropping beauty of this hole, perhaps the best par-3 I’ve ever seen, has got my mind going in a million different directions. I reach for a six-iron, steady myself over the ball and make a hopeful swat. My ball disappears into a smear of swirling mist and then, a couple of seconds later, falls softly in the middle of the green. Needless to say, I’m tickled pink! Read More