Duffers on the Nullarbor

The world's longest golf course lies along the Eyre Highway across the Nullarbor Plains. Spanning 1365 kilometers from the mining town of Kalgoolrie in the west to Ceduna in the east, the 18 hole par 72 course is one of the toughest you'll ever play. 

The Nullarbor Links is a cooperative effort where the holes are maintained by small towns and roadhouses as a means of drawing tourists to the area. Craig and I aren't golfers, but we planned for the adventure picking up three archaic clubs including a splintering one-wood and eight balls at a local op-shop before our trip. Looking back, we probably should have packed more balls.

Initially we thought we might play the Kalgoolrie holes during a whistle stop on the train, but when we rolled into town at 8pm at a temperature of 40C degrees, we decided to give them a miss. We then debated whether or not to do the brothel tour. Sensibly, we skilled that as well. It was just too hot for any sort of entertainment in Kalgoolrie.

We joined the course in Norsemen, where the Links holes share space with the local 18 hole golf course. We sauntered into the clubhouse to find out any rules. It was more shack that clubhouse. Inside, a lone man sat behind the counter. He had long blond hair, a dead ringer for Jeff Spicoli. He was flipping the top on a gas lighter. The flame was dialed so high that it could have licked the ceiling. On reflection, Craig and I both think he'd meant to burn the place down to relieve his own boredom. It isn't a busy club. One of the great things about the Nullarbor Links is there is never any queues.

The holes in every town are different. Usually you find a big square of worn astroturf at one end, with a bigger round blob of slightly better astroturf at the other. Between you find bindies, prickles, ball-eating birds and maybe a few snakes. There's a lot more rough than fairway.

Lost balls are a nightmare, and you should never wear flip-flops to play. In just one hole, you'll find a solid sheet of prickles coating your rubber soles with thorns long enough to dig in your feet. As subpar golfers, we found our balls straying to often into the scrub. They were never to be seen again.

Next to one hole, Craig spotted a bit of fruit.  He thought someone had spat our watermelon seeds and they started growing. I looked closer, the fruit was covered in scary thorns. Even the rodents and roos hadn't touched them. Our best guess was that like everything else in Australia, they were some form of toxic foe. We kept our distance.

If we actually made it to the putting green, we thrust our clubs with joy. I shot well over a par 72, and we only played half the holes. Eagle's Nest in Cocklebiddy proved to be our favorite hole; Sheep's back in Fraser Range proved to be the hardest.

Fraser Range though was well worth the stop. Just as we were due to cross the Nullabor, a heatwave swept the area. It was 47.3C (117F) in our next destinations, we held back and enjoyed the rustic nature, camping on a station. That night we battled strong winds as the heat and cold wave collided. Craig had a minor freak out, so we camped inside the truck.

 Our love of tent camping was quickly waning.