ST. ANDREWS, Scotland -- Golf is a waste of time.

Yes, yes, I've just committed blasphemy against Tiger and Rocco and this seaside patch of grass that is very birthplace of that sacred sport. But before you grab your nine iron and beat me senseless, let me quickly point out that we are legion, we golf heathens. And despite what our links-loving spouses may tell us -- "Oh, don't bother, you'd be bored" -- we are indeed welcome in the navel of these most hallowed links, Scotland.

On this five-day trip, I'll visit four of Scotland's most famous courses: Turnberry, Royal Troon, Gleneagles and the Old Course here at St. Andrews. I will neither par nor bogey -- but I will eagle, sort of, when I fly my hunting hawk. I'll take tea, indulge in a massage, visit Eisenhower's apartments at Culzean Castle and wander along the sea in the shadow of St. Andrews' Cathedral. I'll hoist a pint -- OK, two -- and, I confess, I will even lift a club, if only for the briefest moment.

Jet-lagged, I've narrowly missed a Land Rover and a pair of pheasants as I've careened over the roads in the Scottish hills in search of the tiny town of Turnberry. For a place that's hosted the British Open and lent its name to South Florida's own Fairmont Turnberry Isle Resort, it is remarkably hard to find.

And then, suddenly, the road opens to Scotland's West Coast and the strange hump of seabound rock called Ailsa Craig, and I'm here.

The stately white Westin Turnberry Resort appears on a rise, commanding sweeping views of lawn and a lighthouse and the North Channel splitting Scotland and Ireland. It's the kind of place where the staff is chatty and local, and I get a kind laugh of commiseration when I explain that I've sat in a patch of leafy Scottish nettles and my skin is now afire.

The Scots, I'm soon to find, are the West Country's true soul, sweet and chatty and genuinely interested in whatever wee foolishness you offer. "Haste ye back," town signs invite as you drive away.

The Edwardian lobby bespeaks a country house gentility of warm woods, chintz and fireplaces. This is a true resort estate, and though I can't see them, I know that a series of outbuildings and far-flung fields are home to horses, an off-road driving course, archery, shooting, falconry, fishing (oh that I'd brought my fly rod) -- and for children, programs where they can play farmer, fly kites and meet owls like Harry Potter's Hedwig. An airy spa sits in a new building nearby -- the balm to my stinging nettle wounds.

My golfing friends have raved about the rough that reaches to the sea, and for the first time I can see a kind of romance to the sport I've long pooh-poohed. Tall grasses fit for a prairie shudder in the salty breeze; an untempered wildness permeates the scene, and the manicured sweeps of Augusta and tamer courses seem worlds away.

"It's not pretty to look at," says Chris Brown, head instructor, at the Colin Montgomerie Golf Academy here. "It's not supposed to be."

Against my own best interest, I'm handed a club. Brown sets me up at the driving range, aiming toward the famous 9th hole near the lighthouse that sits light years away. "We've had umpteen beginners here. I've had e-mails that its the best thing that ever happened to them."

Maybe. Me, I'm off to explore the West Coast's non-golfing pastimes.

Wooly sheep sprinkle the hills like dandruff on a green-clad shoulder as the road wends between medieval ruins, postcard towns with cobbled streets and historic attractions. In my two days in Turnberry and Troon, I'll visit an historic estate-turned-museum, a castle adorned with joyous graffiti (part of an art project), and the birthplace of the beloved poet, Robert Burns.

For an American, the poet is a bit tough to ken, and given the accents, the film relating the tale of Burns' signature "Tam O'Shanter" is nearly impossible to decipher. But there's no mistaking the reverence still felt for the 18th century poet whose rhythms celebrated Scottish life and "Auld Lang Syne." Here you can gaze into the thatched cottage where he was born and give thanks that you're a citizen of modern times. And nowhere else can you stroll across a real Brig-a-Doon -- a stone bridge over the river Doon.

Culzean Castle offers up 600 acres of staggering gardens and the kind of gracious-yet-moody charm (armory, round rooms and Grecian and Egyptian details) you'd hope to find in a Scottish castle. Dating from the 1400s, the estate was the home of the powerful Kennedy family (one son led soldiers against Joan of Arc, another married royalty) and a visit underscores both Scotland's political history and details of everyday life. (You will learn, for instance, that dining room walls were stucco rather than damask so as not to trap food smells, and that metal boot-shaped tubs were designed with narrow openings to keep the bather warm.) Gen. Dwight Eisenhower was given a state apartment here for use during his lifetime in recognition of his service to Europe during World War II before he became president, and an exhibition recalls his legacy.

An hour's drive away, Kelburn Castle proves another sort of place altogether, where kids (and adults) can ride horses, visit guinea pigs and sheep, and wander through the wood. But the most striking thing about Kelburn is The Graffiti Project, which brought together Brazilian artists Os Gemeos, Nina Pandolfo and Nunca, who covered one wing of the castle with vibrant graffiti art -- perhaps to the chagrin of its 12th century founders, but to the delight of visitors.

Yet for me, the most enduring images come from a happenstance drive along the rugged coast north of Culzean, between the villages of Alloway and Maidens. Fortress ruins rise unexpectedly beyond a rocky head above the sea. A field reveals a herd of belted Galloway cows, their vanilla bellies stark against a chocolate hide. Grave markers stand sentineled around a stone church, holding staunch against centuries and loneliness and a fierce and ceaseless wind -- a fitting end of days, and of this day as well.

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Between golf and its station on the Firth of Clyde, near the Isle of Arran, Troon gets its share of visitors. Still, it's a work-a-day town filled with shops selling practicalities and simple eateries where a scone, half-sandwich and tea costs less than $10.

Even for an anti-golf snot like me, a stop at the Royal Troon Golf Club is "de reguer," if only to gaze on the long stretch of land and sea flanking the 130-year-old club that this month hosts the British Senior Open. The walls are a testament to the club's rich history, showcasing photos of Arnold Palmer, Tom Watson, Gene Sarazen, Bobby Locke, Walter Hagen and eight British Opens -- plus the world's oldest set of golf clubs, found wrapped in a 1741 newspaper.

But the moment I treasure most is a dinner with Norma McLardy, owner of Copper Beech, my Troon B&B. When she finds out I'm traveling alone, she suggests I join her lady friends for dinner at the Piersland Hotel, built as a home for the grandson of Johnnie Walker -- yes, the Scotch man. With leaded glass and a boisterous atmosphere, the lively place offers up a surprisingly reasonable menu -- less than 20 pounds ($40) for wine and a fish special. The white-haired ladies -- who sometimes complain that their grown daughters are staid and boring -- prove great fun. A reason to return.

The Harris hawk is a peculiarity -- a social bird of prey, whose long tail, long legs and big feet allow him to swoop down and snatch anything from a scorpion to a cheeseburger. This bit of wisdom comes from William Duncan, a falconer at Gleneagles, who relates the fine points of hunting by bird. And though hunting comes just below golf on my personal list of ways to spend an afternoon, I'm captivated.

Peregrine falcons are fast, zooming at 200 mph. Golden eagles are slow, clumsy and moody, best used for hares, jack rabbits, deer and wolves, I learn.

Priming a bird for the hunt requires constant monitoring of its weight and food, Duncan explains. If the birds aren't hungry, they fall asleep; if they're too hungry, they don't have enough energy to fly. In a Harris hawk, the difference can be a mere quarter-ounce.

We pull on thick hide gloves and lift Victor, my hawk for this flying lesson. A falcon will go to the highest perch -- which is why I must keep my arm canted upward, the thumb on top.

I open my glove and cast a pitch -- and he flies off, just as he's been taught, to a nearby perch, then soars immediately back. The lure: a steak tartar reward.

The falconry program is one of several country sports available at Gleneagles, an estate hotel built by the railroad in the early 1920s. Before I give up the glories of its gardens, spa, indoor pool and gourmet dining, I'll watch a tyke drive a miniature Land Rover along the wooded path and help train a gun dog, using whistle blasts to tell the Labrador retriever to stay, go or leap into the lake after our dummy rabbit.

Gleneagles is the manor to which you wish you were born. No traditional chintz here; Art Deco drama rules from sitting rooms to piano bar. The wine list includes '93 Petrus, '64 Talbot and a '78 LaTour, and it's no wonder that the G8 leaders chose to meet here in 2005.

Thanks to its location -- less than an hour from Edinburgh or Glasgow -- plus baby-sitting and extensive children's programs, the 850-acres are popular with families. But for those seeking adult company, there are places aplenty to hide, including the two-star Michelin restaurant by one of Scotland's top chefs, Andrew Fairlie. The menu degustation promises to burst the waistband -- foie gras, turbot, squab; the a la carte offerings including lamb, artichoke and veal seem a bit more judicious -- even with the raspberry shortcake.

Golf -- oh yes, they've got it, on the manicured PGA Century course designed by Jack Nicklaus, which will host the 2014 Ryder Cup; and the original Kings Course and Queens Course, designed by James Braid.

The sea crashes relentlessly against a crag crowned by the skeletal remains of a medieval tower. St. Andrews, town of 14,000, is a broody place, haunted by a history of pilgrimage and religious insurrection.

First came Christians, who prayed before the bones of Andrew the apostle (brought here by St. Rule, it's said) -- for whom the town was named. Then came those in search of higher learning at St. Andrews College, the 600-year-old university from which Prince William graduated.

Now, of course, the devout come for golf. But if the greens are all they visit, they're missing out.

The cobbled streets bubble with college kids -- about 4,000 of them -- wandering between classes in their crimson college robes and, come evening, filling the seemingly endless coffee shops and bars and ethnic restaurants. Museums and an aquarium and a ruined castle that once housed medieval bishops beckon tourists; fishing trawlers hug the stone bulwarks of the cozy harbor. Looming above are the ruins of St. Andrews Cathedral, toppled in the 1550s after reformationist John Knox incited the masses.

The beach called the West Sands -- scene of the 1981 film "Chariots of Fire" -- edges the 600-year-old Old Course. This, it is said, was the first place golf was played as it is today, with small balls knocked into what sometimes seem even smaller holes.

It's not the only game in town. The St. Andrews Links Trust manages six courses currently -- for players from children to the pros -- and will open a seventh this year. But for most Americans -- like Bob Armstrong of Houston -- The Old Course is the mecca.

Armstrong, the former assistant secretary of the interior under President Clinton, came to play with wife Linda Aaker and son Will as a combo 75th birthday present for Bob and college graduation present for Will.

For Aaker, the trip provided a rare opportunity for family bonding. "When you're the mother of a 23-year-old son, there are only so many things you can do together that everyone enjoys."

But it wasn't just the game that made the trip memorable, it was the setting. "It took Scotland to make me fall in love with golf," Aaker said.

Gazing across the greens to the crashing sea, I could understand. That sensation of taking club in my hands as I stared out to the Turnberry lighthouse returned, and for a moment, I suspected golf was a game I could learn to enjoy -- if only it took less time.

IF YOU GO:

WHEN TO GO: If you're looking for a value, consider fall or winter. The West Coast lies in a microclimate where it rarely snows; in coastal St. Andrews, temps rarely go below 40 degrees. Wind and rain are common throughout the area. Golfers should note that tee times need to be reserved well in advance; Royal Troon accepts visitors only on specified days between May and October. Some attractions have limited opening times November -- mid-March.

WHERE TO STAY:

TURNBERRY: The Westin Turnberry Resort sits on a dramatic perch offering views of the lighthouse, the Isle of Arran and the hump-like Ailsa Craig. The 1906 main hotel offers historic charm that's been complimented with a modern spa and other appointments. Resort programs include off-road driving, archery, horse-riding, shooting, walks and, for children, pint-sized programs including a visit with owls and a chance to play farmer. www.turnberry.co.uk.

Troon lies within easy driving distance, and you can easily stay in a wide array of lodgings there.

TROON: Troon offers many B&Bs as well as hotels. I stayed at the delightful Copper Beech B&B, www.copperbeechtroon.com, ending up at dinner at a local restaurant with my hostess Norma and her lady-friends. A single room with en-suite bathroom and hot breakfast cost 35 (about $70) per person per night through 2008 and rises to 37.50 (about $75) in 2009.

For more B&B options, see www.ayrshire-arran.com/accommodation/.

Near the Royal Troon Golf Course, the Piersland House Hotel, www.piersland.co.uk, built in 1899 for the grandson of Johnnie Walker (yes, of the Scotch fame), offers good food and an historic atmosphere. Singles from 98 ($195), doubles from 136 ($270.).

Closest to the course is The Barcelo Marine Hotel, with dramatic views of the coast. From 65 ($129). www.barcelo-hotels.uk.co.

GLENEAGLES: The 850-acre resort hotel lies about an hour from airports at Glasgow and Edinburgh. An expansive spa, children's programs, golf, falconry, off-roading, horse-riding and an array of restaurants will keep you on the grounds.

Packages including one activity of choice for each guest and daily breakfast start at 530 ($1,051) for a double room through October; bed-and-breakfast only starts at 385 ($764) through October; specials are sometimes offered. Rates drop as low as 230 ($456) in fall and winter. www.gleneagles.com; toll-free in the U.S. 866-881-9525.

ST. ANDREWS: Cozy St. Andrews offers both hotels -- one right on The Old Course -- and numerous B&Bs.

The Old Course Hotel is a handsome modern hotel and spa owned by Kohler, the upscale plumbing fixtures company. Rooms and public spaces look across The Old course to the sea. //oldcoursehotel.kohler.com; (011-44-1334) 474371. From 360 (about $720) in summer; 235 (about $470) in off-season.

Rusacks Hotel is a beautifully atmospheric Victorian lodging overlooking the 18th green of The Old Course. www.macdonaldhotels.co.uk/rusacks; toll-free from the U.S. 888-892-0038. From 112 (about $225) in off-season, 180 in summer (about $360). Check for specials.

Fairmont St. Andrews lies 10 minutes outside the town includes two championship golf courses. www.fairmont.com/standrews. From $319.

B&Bs: I stayed in a stylish room with private bath near the town center at 18 Queens Terrace, one of many B&Bs in town, for 65 single ($130). www.standrewsbandbs.co.uk/bed&breakfasts.htm.

BEYOND THE LINKS

WEST COAST:

• Culzean Castle: www.culzeanexperience.org. Open daily from mid-March to late October; limited opening times in winter.

• Kelburn Castle / Graffiti Project: A great place for kids, with pony treks and horse riding far less expensive than at golf resorts. www.kelburncountrycentre.com; thegraffitiproject.net.

• Burns National Heritage Park: The cottage where poet Robert Burns was born sits near the heritage park, which includes a film relating the "Tam O'Shanter" story. The pretty town is a bit touristy but worth a visit. www.burnsheritagepark.com.

• Coast road: Getting lost along the coast is a worthy pursuit; the stretch between Maidens and Alloway is particularly beautiful.

INFO: www.Ayrshire-Arran.com.

ST. ANDREWS: The ruined cathedral and church are the highlights of a visit, but there's plenty more to do, from an aquarium to a golf museum. Be sure to leave plenty of time for wandering. And make dinner reservations, especially on a weekend; restaurants fill up.

INFO: www.visit-standrews.co.uk.

EDINBURGH: Scotland's capital and undisputed prettiest city is crowned by the centuries-old Edinburgh Castle. Leading from it is the cobbled Royal Mile, the Old Town's main drag flanked with churches, shops and historic buildings. Leave plenty of time for museums. Prime time is August, when the city buzzes with jazz, blues and its massive fringe festival.

INFO: www.edinburgh.org.

GLASGOW: Once an ugly industrial burgh, Glasgow has become Scotland's center of hipness and cutting edge art. It's all infused with the arts-and-crafts style of early 20th century native son Charles Rennie MacIntosh. Don't miss the club scene.

INFO: www.seeglasgow.com.