How Walter Hagen’s unlikely 54-hole loop in 1920 inspired my own
I don't have a lot in common with Walter Hagen. I looked. He was born in 1892. I was born in 1985. He lived in New York. I live in Edinburgh. He was 5-10. I am 6-3. He won 11 major championships. I’ve won zero (at the time of writing). However, for one day, I was going to walk in the footsteps of “The Haig.”
In 1920, Walter Hagen was excited to make his debut at The Open Championship. He arrived early at Royal Cinque Ports Golf Club on the southeast coast of England. His first order of business was to get acclimatized to the links turf. He and his friend and fellow pro Jim Barnes set off early for a practice round.
When the pair reached the 11th hole, Hagen noticed more flags in the distance. Barnes told Hagen they belonged to Royal St. George’s Golf Club, which in time would host 15 Open Championships. Rather than looping back down the Kent coast and the back nine of Cinque Ports, the pair hopped a fence and picked up their game at Royal St. George’s on the sixth hole.
Fast forward another nine holes and they reached the thin wire fence that marks the boundary with Prince’s Golf Club, which hosted the Open in 1932. Once again, Hagen and Barnes scaled the fence and teed off on a new course. By the time their tour was over, they had played 54 holes, 18 on all three courses. It’s important to understand that these three English links aren’t just nearby one another; they are practically laid out on the same land.
In his book The Walter Hagen Story, Hagen would document their marathon day, explaining the goal was simply to play the three links as if they were one. The loop became known as the Hagen 54.
In the summer of 2025, the three clubs came together to lay out the historic route once again—and I scored an invitation.
As I stepped onto the sixth tee at Princes, hole 20 of the routing and my designated starting point for the grand shotgun start at 5:30 a.m., I could see dozens of holes and flags fluttering in the early glow of sunrise. A horn sounded across the three links, and we were off.
Prince’s Golf Club was converted from the original 18 to a 27-hole facility following severe damage to the land during World War II. For today’s adventure, we played the Shore and Himalayas nines. When we finished, Rob McGuirk, the club’s general manager, was waiting for us by the green with a smile, some words of inspiration and a bag of freshly made sausage rolls for the group. The fuel was much needed as we headed through a cut in the wire fence over to Royal St. George’s.
Often, courses start with a sort of handshake opening hole. However, with this commemorative routing, laid out over 100 years ago by Hagen and Barnes, we were met with more of an arm wrestle. The par-5 14th hole is one of the most famous holes on the course. It put an end to Dustin Johnson’s run towards a Claret Jug in 2011 when his second shot in the final round sailed out-of-bounds to the Prince’s Golf Club side of the fence.
We made it to the opening hole at Royal St. George’s at around 11 a.m., which meant we were 23 holes into the day. As we enjoyed more refreshments in the shade of the iconic, Victorian-style starter’s hut, we wondered what Hagen and Barnes would have been thinking in this spot. Hagen, from Rochester, New York, had never been on British soil ahead of his visit here in 1920. Clearly, though, something about the place appealed to him. He would go on to lift the Claret Jug not once but twice, just steps from where we stood on the first tee at Royal St. George’s. Behind the fourth green, we enjoyed a glance at the former home of Ian Fleming, the author and proud St. George’s member who created the world of James Bond.
CARRY ON The walk to hole No. 20 of The Hagen 54 at Prince’s Golf Club.
Pitchmark Media
The custom "Hagen 54" event logo, on tee markers
Aerial look at the landscape of Royal St George's
“Scores? I’ve forgotten."
My group immediately having holed out on our 54th hole of the day.
In his book, Hagen said, “After playing eleven holes on the Deal course, we hopped a fence over to Sandwich [Royal St. George’s] and played ten holes there.” In the interest of time and navigation, the clubs had arranged buses to shuttle us between St. George’s and Royal Cinque Ports. However, my playing partner, Sean of New England, wanted a more authentic experience. Rather than walk through the hole cut in the fence, he climbed it.
Around 1 p.m., now onto our third course and hole 29 of 54, the weather arrived. A few drops here, misty rain there and then proper English rain. Midway through a back nine, one might embrace this sort of challenge: It is links golf after all. However, we still had 25 holes to play.
As we walked off the 18th green at Cinque Ports and headed toward the temporary shelter on the first tee, we were greeted by staff from the club, complete with smiles, warm coffee and sandwiches. We needed all three, in that order.
While the pro at Cinque Ports escorted Larry, an author from Vermont and one of my playing partners, to the shop to loan him some “better” waterproofs, the rest of the group headed down the first fairway to the furthest point south of our day. This is where Hagen and Barnes started their journey. If the weather had been similar on their day in 1920, we probably wouldn’t have been playing 54 holes on this day.
After the opening hole at Cinque Ports, we turned north to play the second hole. Neil, our loyal forecaddie, informed us we were now about to play 19 holes into the wind in the rain.
SWINGING SNAPPY Dr. Simon Barton channels the fashion of Walter Hagen.
Pitchmark Media
The famous par-3 third hole at Royal St George's.
The event logo also featured on post-round refreshments.
As we boarded one last mini-bus for the journey back to the fence that Sean climbed over four hours earlier, our driver read us a Hagen quote about his marathon. “Scores? I’ve forgotten. We weren’t trying to break any records. We were just lucky to go that far. We did it for fun.”
The driver could tell that beyond battling for scores, we were now battling just for enjoyment. After toweling ourselves down, we headed to the short sixth at Royal St. George’s. Larry was very wet. He now wore a “borrowed” club towel around his shoulders underneath his jacket and looked more like a linebacker than a golfer. He teed up his ball on the 150-yard par 3 and found the green. With raindrops cascading off his clothing, he rolled in the 20-foot birdie putt. We were instantly reminded why we were there: fun!
More fun came on the short 10th hole. By this point, I had ruined four gloves and was gripping with bare hands. They slipped, and I topped my drive: My ball tumbled straight and barely reached the fairway. Neil, a St. George’s lifer, had used the same yardage book, complete with detailed notes and annotations, for years. When he pulled it from his pocket, it was practically pulp. I felt bad for him, but like a true caddie, he peeled the pages apart to give me my yardage—194 yards.
“Come on, one more good swing,” he said. He could sense my energy level as we passed the 12-hour mark of our “loop.” Like magic, I summoned whatever energy and grip I had to send the ball with my 6-iron toward the perched green—to two feet.
We played 54 holes in a little over 13 hours.
After a quick—who am I kidding?—long shower in the lodge, I sat with a pint of Guinness. I thought about Hagen and Barnes doing the same loop over 100 years ago. I thought about the sunrise we enjoyed as we started. I thought about the laughs and the sausage rolls. I thought about the friendly members, scattered throughout the day, each with a unique story and smile to share. I thought about the bus driver’s words of wisdom and Neil’s poor yardage book.
Ultimately, now warm and sitting comfortably, I thought about the fun we’d had, walking in the footsteps of “The Haig,” all 39,000 of them, according to my Fitbit.
