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    At the U.S. Open, Saving the House That Built Golf

    Francis Ouimet, an amateur who improbably won the 1913 U.S. Open at the Country Club, grew up across the street. Now his home will be given back to the game, and the course, that made him famous.BROOKLINE, Mass. — The small, 19th-century home with the golf course view is hardly noticeable to the hundreds of drivers whizzing by at 40 miles an hour on Clyde Street in the Boston suburb of Brookline. While the two-story house once stood like a sentry overlooking acres of cow pasture, the neighborhood is now replete with luxury housing, four-lane roads and a bustle worthy of a community just seven miles from downtown.The location does not look like a landmark to the birthplace of American golf. But it is, in ways both tangible and symbolic. This week, the site will be newly in the spotlight as the U.S. Open returns for a fourth time to the Country Club in Brookline.Neighbors of the Clyde Street property have recently noticed a flurry of activity at the residence as contractors’ vans filled the driveway daily for what is clearly a moneyed restoration project. In late April, two workers peeled back attic ceiling panels of the 1893 dwelling and then had to duck as a pair of antique golf clubs tumbled to the floor.“They’re Francis’s clubs!” one of the workers, Aldeir Filho, yelped. His colleague, Christian Herbet, dashed down the stairs to alert the crew of tradesman below.From the second floor, Herbet shouted: “We found Mr. Ouimet’s clubs.”The American golfer Francis DeSales Ouimet in 1913.George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress)In 1913, Francis Ouimet, then a 20-year-old self-taught amateur golfer, left the second-floor bedroom he shared with his brother at 246 Clyde Street and crossed the street to the Country Club, where he defeated the world’s two most accomplished British professionals, Ted Ray and Harry Vardon, to win the U.S. Open.The stunning upset by Ouimet, the son of immigrants and a caddie at the club, was front-page news across the nation and has been credited with spawning explosive nationwide growth in the game. While there were only 350,000 American golfers in 1913, that number had swelled to 2.1 million less than 10 years later. The fame of Ouimet’s groundbreaking accomplishment — no amateur had ever won the U.S. Open and few golfers from working-class roots had ever played in championships — has endured for 109 years, no doubt helped by a popular 2005 movie, “The Greatest Game Ever Played.”The house that Ouimet’s father, Arthur, just happened to purchase across from the Country Club has often played a prominent factor in Francis Ouimet’s winsome story. The humble dwelling astride a tony country club came to represent the two worlds Ouimet daringly traversed when he walked down his unadorned wooden front steps and marched onto the club’s gilded grounds for the last 18 holes of the 1913 U.S. Open. About four hours later, he was carried from the last green on the shoulders of cheering fans. The duality of Ouimet’s life on either side of Clyde Street, including the cramped, meager confines of his upbringing, are a robust part of the narrative. There are, for example, 17 scenes depicting life in the Ouimet house in the 2005 movie.And yet, until recently, preserving or formally recognizing the home’s significance was never a priority. While the structure remained in the Ouimet family for 94 years, it changed ownership multiple times. The exterior and interior were altered and a tall white fence rose in the front yard to eclipse most of the ground floor from the road.The dining room of the Ouimet HouseAlex Gagne for The New York TimesAlex Gagne for The New York TimesAlex Gagne for The New York TimesAs housing prices in Brookline soared across the decades, some at the nearby club, which is a founding member of the United States Golf Association, worried what might happen if the property was bought and redeveloped. Years ago, for instance, what had been the family barn next to the Ouimet house was sold, rebuilt and turned into condominiums.“If you let that house be torn down,” Fred Waterman, the club historian, said of the Ouimet house in an interview last month, “you’ve allowed a very important part of American sports history to disappear.”Tom Hynes, a member of the Country Club who has a Boston real estate background that stretches to the 1960s, casually befriended the owners of the house, Jerome and Dedie Wieler, not long after they moved to the neighborhood in 1989. Hynes lives nearby and would see the Wielers walking their dog almost daily.“When you’re ready to sell your house,” Hynes told the couple, “I’m your buyer.”The Wielers answered that they were not selling and were curious why Hynes would want it. Hynes explained Ouimet’s history to the Wielers, who knew nothing of golf. But the Wielers were intrigued by a heartwarming story.“Someday, maybe 20 years from now, you might be selling and please let me know,” said Hynes, who added that he would remind the Wielers about once a year. “I just wanted the house returned to golf.”Late in 2020, the Wielers contacted Hynes, who set foot in the house at 246 Clyde Street for the first time and 30 minutes later had a handshake agreement to buy the property for $875,000.The actor Shia LaBeouf as Francis Ouimet in the 2005 movie “The Greatest Game Ever Played.” Entertainment Pictures / AlamyFrancis Ouimet, center, with the professional British golfers he beat to win the 1913 U.S. Open, Harry Vardon, left, and Ted Ray.Associated PressHynes set about trying to defray the purchase cost by raising money with the intent of donating the house to the club, which could use it for myriad activities, including staff and guest housing on the second floor. The decision was also made to restore the house to make it appear as it did when the Ouimets lived there in 1913.“When you walk into the house we want you to have the feeling of what it was like to have walked into the family’s home 109 years ago,” Waterman said.But first, there was much work to do. While the house was in good shape, it needed innumerable improvements to meet modern building codes. The cost of the restoration swelled. As Hynes, the nephew of a three-term Boston mayor who has brokered some of the city’s most sweeping real estate deals, said: “I started going around town with my tin cup out.”Hynes had a potent, almost divine ally in his fund-raising mission. It was as if Francis Ouimet was mystically assisting him. Ouimet, who died in 1967, remained a lifelong resident of the Boston area and continued to win golf championships as an amateur for many years after 1913. He also had a career in finance.In 1949, a Ouimet college scholarship program for caddies was created. Since then, the Ouimet Fund has awarded nearly $44 million to more than 6,300 men and women. The need-based scholarships can be worth as much as $80,000 across four years of study.As Hynes began to solicit help for his restoration, he occasionally was surprised to find donors who were unflinchingly generous with their money. They were Ouimet Scholars, now middle-aged, who believed they would have never attended college without the fund’s assistance.Fred Waterman, historian at the Country Club.Alex Gagne for The New York TimesTom Hynes, who bought the Ouimet house.Alex Gagne for The New York TimesThe Ouimet house’s living room has been restored.Alex Gagne for The New York TimesAdditionally, more than 40 members of the Country Club have contributed, most donating $25,000 each. The first phase of the renovation was finished last week.A tour of the 1,550-square foot, six-room Ouimet house these days is like stepping back in time since its appearance has been curated to match an early-20th-century style. The wallpaper, lighting, drapes and shades are vintage. The furnishings are faithful to the period: chairs, sofas and tables from the early 1900s presented to the club by an architect who heard about the renovation. Common rooms were small then, but add to the cozy, familial feel.Just inside the first-floor entry is an old, preserved wooden wall telephone, the kind with a crank on the side. It is rigged so visitors can lift the receiver and hear a recording of Ouimet describing his U.S. Open victory. He is joined on the audiotape by Eddie Lowery, who was Ouimet’s 10-year-old caddie. The two remained lifelong friends.Elsewhere on the first floor are mementos acknowledging what took place nearby in 1913, including newspaper clippings and photographs. The tall, imposing street-side fence has been removed to reveal newly planted sod with a border of perennials.The second phase, which will renovate the building’s exterior by adding new clapboard, windows and a cedar shingle roof, will not be complete until next year. After that, Hynes hopes to hand off the house to the club. Since the club, which has about 1,300 members, has yet to take possession of the Ouimet house, its president, Lyman Bullard, said there was no decision yet on access or its primary use.Hynes, who mentioned being sensitive to neighbors of a property in a residential area, does not envision the house being open to the public, or offering tours like a museum. But Waterman felt there might be a sense of obligation to share the house, and its history, in some way.A photo taken in 1900 shows Francis as a 7-year-old, next to his mother, Mary, and father, Arthur.Courtesy The Country ClubIn the movie “The Greatest Game Ever Played,” there is an early bit of foreshadowing: a scene of the young Francis Ouimet dutifully but surreptitiously practicing his putting at night after his parents had gone to bed. If that might be Hollywood mythmaking, there is no disputing the golf-centric, stirring view from Ouimet’s second-floor bedroom window. Across Clyde Street, Francis could see the Country Club’s pristine 17th hole. The vista now is altered by the decades-long growth of trees sprouting on the perimeter of the grounds. But standing at the bedroom window, with the house’s revitalized original flooring creaking underfoot, the manicured 17th hole is still plainly visible.Francis Ouimet’s boyhood dreams seem present, not distant.His impact on golf, even American sport, is alive in the spirit of his home.In 1913, the golf icon Gene Sarazen, then known as Eugenio Saraceni, was an 11-year old caddie in the New York suburbs. The son of Sicilian immigrants, he read about Ouimet’s stunning victory over the renowned British professionals. As Waterman noted, Sarazen said to himself at the time: “If he can do it, I can do it.”When Sarazen was 20, like Ouimet, he won the U.S. Open, the first of the seven major golf championships he won from 1922 to 1935.For Waterman and Hynes, one of their fondest hopes is that the Ouimet house, newly returned to golf, is not done influencing future U.S. Open champions. Hynes floated the possibility that one of the golfers in this year’s field might wish to stay in the house during the competition.Calling that “the ultimate thing,” Waterman added: “It would be a player who says, ‘I want to wake up in Francis Ouimet’s bedroom because he walked down the stairs and won the U.S. Open. Maybe that’s what will happen for me.’ ”Ouimet’s win at the U.S. Open made the front page of The New York Times, top left, on Sept. 21, 1913.The New York Times More

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    Rucker Park, a Basketball Mecca, Gets New Life

    As a child, Michele Roberts occasionally found herself at Holcombe Rucker Park when her older brothers, who were supposed to be babysitting her at home in the South Bronx, would take her to Harlem instead.Roberts could not see over the heads of those who stacked the park’s sidelines shoulder-to-shoulder. But she soaked in the excitement and energy from the crowd, the laughter from the bellies, the yelling from the lungs, in what amounted to one large block party at West 155th Street and what was then known just as Eighth Avenue, with basketball as the eternal soundtrack.“If you grew up in New York probably ever, but certainly in the ’60s and ’70s when I grew up, you could not help but understand what the Rucker meant to New York basketball,” said Roberts, 63, now the executive director of the N.B.A. players’ union.Over generations, the asphalt court honed its reputation as a siren calling and name-making mecca for soon-to-be N.B.A. legends like Wilt Chamberlain, Lew Alcindor (later known as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) and Julius Erving, who went by the nickname the Claw at the park long before he was known as Dr. J. They mixed with playground legends whose colorful nicknames matched their outsize games: Earl “the Goat” Manigault, Herman “the Helicopter” Knowings, “Jumpin’” Jackie Jackson and Pee Wee Kirkland.“If you’re a hooper, your dream was to play at that park,” said Corey Williams, who goes by the nickname Homicide and turned impressive performances at the Rucker and other playgrounds into a lengthy international professional career. “Everybody wanted it.”Roberts visited Rucker Park after moving back to New York when she became the executive director of the players’ union in 2014.She wondered if her memories had deceived her into a sunny nostalgia. Rucker Park, in her estimation, looked decrepit, with the blacktop cracked and uneven and the bleachers in disarray.Teams play at Rucker Park during the summer before renovations.“The notion that the park would be in any state of disrepair is a heartbreaker to me,” she said.When Roberts asked members of the players’ union’s executive committee if they had interest in renovating the Greg Marius Court at Rucker Park, the players asked how soon they could begin.In August, the players’ union announced it had joined with the city’s Department of Parks and Recreation, among others, to give the court a substantial face-lift that would cost $520,000 and to create a recreation position for Rucker Park and the nearby Jackie Robinson Recreation Center.Crews worked on the court starting in August, leveling the asphalt and installing black bleachers, a state-of-the-art scoreboard and N.B.A. custom baskets donated by Spalding. The new black-and-gold court features a mural designed by ASAP Ferg, an artist and Harlem native, and produced by Set Free Richardson, an artist and filmmaker.The court formally reopened on Saturday with a ribbon-cutting ceremony, youth basketball clinics and games. Williams, now a commentator for the Australian National Basketball League, served as the M.C. for the reopening, which was attended by Erving, Kirkland, Nate Archibald and a number of others who had forged their reputations on the court.“It’s something that needs to be preserved,” Williams said. “You treat Rucker Park like you treat Central Park, the Empire State Building, Ellis Island, Statue of Liberty. The red tour buses come to Harlem and go to that park. It’s iconic. It’s a landmark in New York City. It’s a staple. That is the Madison Square Garden of street basketball courts in the world.”The goal of the players’ union is to restore the park as a community asset and attract N.B.A. players.Not long ago, players like Kobe Bryant, Allen Iverson and Vince Carter made the pilgrimage to West 155th Street and Frederick Douglass Boulevard to a court that is tiny in area, but large in cultural and historical significance.“It’s paved the way for so many people,” Williams said. “It’s gotten people out of trouble. Crime stopped for four hours, four days a week in that area. It’s no secret it’s across the street from one of the most dangerous housing projects in New York City, the Polo Grounds. But when those games were on, everybody stopped.”Roberts said that the renovation would also extend the legacies of those who brought fame to the park and court.“The basketball players, the kids that are aspiring to be in the N.B.A. or just love the game who may live in the vicinity of the park and may not fully appreciate its history, and if that’s the case, then we hope that this project will revive the history,” she said. “We’ll be telling the history.”Holcombe Rucker, a playground director, established a youth basketball league and summer tournament nearly 70 years ago to keep children away from temptation even as others warned him to disregard a sport designed for the winter.Crews spent about two months renovating. Michele Roberts, below, the executive director of the N.B.A. players’ union, checked in on the progress.Rucker mentored children, building a program from scratch, always keeping his busy schedule in his pocket. As his tournament gained in popularity and the Rucker League transformed into a summer pro-am, Rucker managed his connections to secure hundreds of college scholarships for the teenagers he viewed as students before athletes.He died of cancer in 1965 before he turned 40. The park was renamed after him as the Holcombe Rucker Playground in 1974. It’s commonly referred to as Rucker Park or just the Rucker.Chris Rucker, Holcombe Rucker’s grandson, said that “the park is a symbol and reference point to what my grandfather did and what he accomplished over the years, so without a basketball court in good working order, the legacy wouldn’t be complete.”He added, “Rucker Park is as much a part of the Harlem community as the Apollo Theater.”By the 1980s, N.B.A. players had mostly stopped playing at Rucker Park out of fear of risking their increasingly lucrative contracts.Greg Marius, a former hip-hop artist, revitalized the atmosphere by starting the Entertainers Basketball Classic in 1982. Soon, he invited pros back, enlivening the experience with the addition of bombastic play-by-play callers, booming hip-hop soundtracks and corporate sponsors.Marius died at 59 in 2017. That June, Mayor Bill de Blasio named Rucker Park’s basketball court the Greg Marius Court.Stacey Marius, Greg’s sister, said that her brother “had this vision of bringing his love for hip-hop and basketball and getting them together and having tournaments, but in a place where it was a high-profile tournament that everybody could enjoy.”Some believed that part of the purity Rucker had striven for suffered when the park was commercialized. But the stars returned, and not just on the court. Former President Bill Clinton once stopped by to watch the action. Hip-hop luminaries like Fat Joe and Diddy backed teams.“You come in that park, and while the tournament is on, you might be able to see any star,” said Gus Wells, the chief executive of Entertainers 155, which operates the street ball tournament. “You’ll see N.B.A. players playing out there. You will see a celebrity sitting in the audience out there. And the biggest thing is it’s for free. You can’t get that for free basically nowhere else like that.”N.B.A. players learned through the decades that they could not just own the court by reputation alone. Bryant, the former Los Angeles Lakers superstar who died last year, earned both cheers and jeers from a lively crowd during his 2002 appearance.Tim Gittens, a Harlem native, earned his nickname — Headache — at the park and is now an assistant coach for the W.N.B.A.’s Dallas Wings.“All these guys came down there because it was basically mano a mano,” he said, “with you against somebody, not being told how to run a set, but your best skill against my best skill, and your knowledge against my knowledge, on this even playing field where the crowd can become an opponent too.”Julius Erving and the rappers Fat Joe and ASAP Ferg spoke at the park’s reopening after renovations.He added, “You was pushed into a different level of playing because you didn’t want to fail in front of all of these people, and you want them to see you perform, because it gave you so much more energy and more life, and then your legend grew.”Wells recalled the time Carter, who recently retired after a 22-year N.B.A. career, matched against Adrian Walton, better known as Whole Lotta Game. “He was shocked that a little 18-year-old kid was giving it to him like that,” Wells said. “He had to tie his sneakers a little tighter.”The former N.B.A. All-Star Baron Davis made sure to get some shots up on the court the evening before he played at Rucker Park, Gittens said.Wells recalled that in 2011, Kevin Durant made an appearance at Rucker Park during the N.B.A.’s lockout and amassed 66 points in a memorable performance.“You would think this was video for a movie, because every time he came down, they made sure he got the ball, and he was just firing it from way beyond the 3-point line,” Wells said. “It wasn’t like he was off. It was automatic.”Jamar Jones, whose nickname is Papa, was anticipating playing on the renovated court after its reopening Saturday. He has witnessed players like Bryant, Durant and Klay Thompson performing there.For Jones, a 16-year-old resident of Harlem, it’s still just his home park, the one he has played at ever since he can remember. The renovation has meaning for him beyond just the return of celebrities and N.B.A. players.He is looking forward to sharpening his game on a functional court.“It was kind of tough, because one side of the court was uneven, so if you would run downhill, one side would be deeper than the other,” Jones said. “It would be hard to shoot if you would go to the corner.”He added, “So I’m excited.”Wells is hopeful that the renewed interest in Rucker Park will restore the court’s allure.In recent years, Wells said, some summer tournaments that used to come to the Harlem court have started to go elsewhere.“It’s not just the renovation,” Wells said. “It’s all the relationships that will hopefully come back and support the brands that’s out there and the tournament’s that’s out there, and that will help bring back the mystique of what it was and what it is. It needs the relationships and the connections with other brands and the support. It needs to have the support that we used to have.”That mystique may be gone. But Rucker Park has always been home to true ballers who forge their identities, as Williams said.“We don’t care who you are,” he said. “We don’t care what you do. We don’t care where you from. We don’t care about your accolades and credibility in the N.B.A. It’s just us today in the park. That’s why that park is special. We don’t come there giving you roses. You got to earn it. Many players came to that park and got booed. Trust me. Many of them.” More

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    ‘Golfing Heaven’ in Scotland’s Outer Hebrides

    This article is part of our latest special report on International Golf Homes, about some of the top spots to live and play.It was his love of fishing that would change Gordon Irvine’s life. In 2005, the golf course consultant, who lives in Ayrshire, Scotland, was casting about for a place to tackle for his next trip.Try the Outer Hebrides — the island chain off Scotland’s west coast — someone told him, casually; the fishing was superb.On one of the islands, a community golf course was being rehabbed, and within a few years Mr. Irvine was offered a simple barter: the locals on South Uist, the second-largest of the islands, would trade advice on how to restore it in exchange for trout fishing rights.Standing on the west coast of that island, he surveyed a nine-hole, par-3 course that had been carved out of the grass runways where mail planes had once landed. It was fine, if unremarkable, but then he heard that it was not the original site of the local golfing greens.“Someone said this famous old golfer had laid that one out, right on top of the old dune system nearby,” Mr. Irvine recalled. He said he became curious when someone mentioned Tom Morris, the prolific 19th-century champion-turned-greenskeeper nicknamed the father of golf.Mr. Irvine assumed it must be folklore, or a hoax. But as soon as he hiked to the dunes and looked out, he was stunned by what he saw: the well-preserved remnants of a world class, 18-hole course. It had been built in 1891 and named Askernish, after the small settlement in which it sits. Mr. Irvine resolved at that moment to bring Mr. Morris’s masterpiece back to playable perfection.Tom Morris, a golf champion and later a master of course design, around 1905. Some call him the father of golf.Print Collector/Getty ImagesThis isolated spot — a tiny island whose year-round population at the last census just topped 1,700 — might seem an unlikely location for such an important course.The coast of South Uist is mostly machair, a low-lying grassy plain that’s extremely fertile and appears only in this corner of the British Isles. The 6,300-yard Askernish course was coaxed from that landscape, rather than carved or sculpted, as might be more commonplace now, according to Mr. Irvine. Mr. Morris would prowl a plot, planting flags in the ground wherever he could envisage a hole.Askernish was particularly precious, Mr. Irvine said, because many of the other courses Mr. Morris designed have been renovated and updated, often destroying his vision in the process.These greens, though, were abandoned by the 1920s, left almost in suspended animation. Mr. Irvine and other volunteers resolved to restore it using old techniques and minimal machinery.The 16th hole, now nicknamed Old Tom’s Pulpit, is particularly noteworthy. “It’s the one we felt reflected him more than any other — it has that classic blind shot Old Tom Morris was in favor of,” Mr. Irvine said. “The view from the elevated tee is just breathtaking.”The course reopened in 2008 and is now operated as a community course, available to anyone. In the winter, the grassland is opened up to local farmers for their animals to graze.Even in summer, when it’s tended, the greens are rougher and more like those used for hickory golf (a classic variation played with hickory clubs) than today’s manicured lawns. “We do have old sets of clubs available in the clubhouse if people want to play that,” said Mr. Irvine, who still goes regularly to South Uist to fish for trout and to golf.Machair, a low-lying grassy plain, covers the island coastline.AlamyBut it is far from the only course in the region. Other impressive playing grounds pepper the 130-mile-long island chain, both nine- and 18-hole courses.“Golf in the Outer Hebrides is golfing heaven, an experience like no other in Scotland,” said Roger McStravick, a golfing historian who lives in St. Andrews. “It’s a time capsule, in many ways, back to the 19th century. It’s the best bit of golf escapism in the world.”There are so many courses here for a reason: It’s all about the unusual history of the Hebrides.Victorian-era British aristocrats often summered here in the 19th century — the islands are surprisingly warm in season, thanks to the Gulf Stream that flows to them.“They were an exclusive place to escape to; it’s where the landed gentry would go on holiday,” Mr. McStravick said. “It was their Aspen, their exclusive resort.”(Its upper-class connections remain — Queen Elizabeth has twice chartered a ship to cruise around here with her family.)That wealthy niche of Britons was among golf’s most avid proponents, and those who lived here commissioned courses to keep their guests entertained.Lady Cathcart, for example, whose father-in-law had bought South Uist in the 1830s, hired Mr. Morris to create one of Scotland’s earliest private golf courses.Elsewhere, her upper-class peers followed suit: Lady Matheson, whose family held sway in Lewis, the northern part of Lewis and Harris, the largest of the islands, financed a course in its largest town, Stornoway. Her budget did not stretch to hiring a talent like Mr. Morris.With the encouragement of the upper classes — and the convenience of the facilities they funded — golfing culture spread among the working-class locals.More courses followed, including on Harris. The course there has also been restored as a community resource, and all greens fees are paid by the honor system.Mr. McStravick said that the champion golfer Nick Faldo had once played the Harris course and had deposited a signed, five-pound note at the end of his round. “The locals thought that wasn’t enough, and he subsequently apologized for such a meager donation — all in good spirits.” A tournament now recalls the incident, Mr. McStravick said. “Known as the Faldo Fiver, it’s played every year, like a trophy.”The chance to play these links is often cited by those who want to buy property in the islands, according to John Gillies, of Ken MacDonald & Co., a Stornoway-based real estate agency. “Part of the appeal of Askernish is you could phone up in the morning and be able to play that day,” said Mr. Gillies, himself an avid golfer. “There’s an aura about it and it’s worthy of all the accolades it gets. It’s a phenomenal course, like stepping back in time.”Demand has surged for housing on South Uist, but inventory is low. At some point, one real estate agent said, “we’re just going to run out of properties.”DACameron/AlamyThe northerly latitude of the islands are a boon in summer, he added, with games viable until 11 p.m. or so in July; it’s also the reason Askernish hosts its Open every August. (It was canceled in 2020, but returned this summer.)Demand for property in the Outer Hebrides has surged during the pandemic, as have prices. Mr. Gillies noted that another agency in the islands typically had a roster of about 40 homes available at any time, but its inventory had dwindled to four by midsummer this year. “At some point, with the demand there is, we’re just going to run out of properties,” he said.Homes here tend to fall into two broad categories, he noted: older, historic cottages and eco-friendly, contemporary architecture with an emphasis on sustainability.Conventionally, he said, houses here would sell for the price suggested on a surveyor’s home report; in the last six months, successful offers have usually hovered 20 to 30 percent above that number.Tenancies for crofts, or local farms, used to sell for £15,000 to £20,000 (about $21,000 to $28,000), but one that overlooks the picturesque Luskentyre Bay in Harris was seeking bids of £200,000 or more.Of course, there are no homes for sale overlooking Askernish, nestled in the dunes. But it’s worth the drive, or ferry ride, to South Uist from any home in the islands, said Mr. McStravick, the golf historian.“Golf is so much more than a stick and ball game — it’s about escapism,” he said. “And I don’t think there’s anywhere better in Scotland to lose yourself either in the golf, or the scenery.” More