The Himalayas of St Andrews: Where Golf’s Soul Took Shape

Few places in the world of golf are as charming, idiosyncratic, and quietly influential as the Himalayas putting green at St Andrews. Tucked between the first tee of the Old Course and the 18th green, this sprawling expanse of humps, hollows, and winding putts has served for more than a century as golf’s most democratic playground, a place where beginners, champions, locals, and visitors meet on equal terms.

The Himalayas were formally opened in 1867, making them the oldest surviving putting green in the world. At a time when golf was still solidifying its rules and customs, the concept of a dedicated putting course was both practical and progressive.

St Andrews was already crowded, and the Himalayas provided a place where players, particularly those waiting for the Old Course, could hone their touch with the flat stick without venturing onto the main links.

The name “Himalayas” was inspired by the dramatic internal contours of the green. Long before the age of manicured, gently contoured practice greens, the Himalayas embraced bold movement. Ridges rise sharply, troughs snake across fairways of turf, and putts can break multiple feet over their journey.

The effect is whimsical yet exacting, demanding imagination, speed control, and a sense of humor, qualities as essential to golf as technical precision.

Throughout its history, the Himalayas have mirrored the social fabric of St Andrews itself. Children learned the game there with cut-down clubs; townspeople passed summer evenings rolling putts well into the lingering Scottish twilight.

Visiting golfers, before or after a round on the Old Course, tested their nerves on putts longer than many full shots elsewhere. The green became a place where golf was stripped of status and ceremony, reduced to its purest form: player, putter, ball, and ground.

Great champions have walked the Himalayas, often anonymously. Old Tom Morris, Bobby Jones, Jack Nicklaus, and Tiger Woods all putted across its contours, sometimes with more laughter than concentration.

Unlike championship venues, the Himalayas were never meant to crown winners. Their role was educational, recreational, and communal, teaching feel, creativity, and patience while reinforcing the idea that golf should be enjoyed as much as it is respected.

Over the decades, the Himalayas have been carefully preserved rather than modernized. While equipment, agronomy, and practice facilities elsewhere have evolved dramatically, the essential character of the green has remained unchanged. Its scale, slopes, and routing still reflect 19th-century sensibilities, offering a rare, living connection to golf’s earliest traditions.

Today, the Himalayas remain an integral part of the St Andrews experience. For many visitors, a few coins and a putter on that ancient turf provide a memory as lasting as a round on the Old Course itself. In their quiet way, the Himalayas remind golfers of a timeless truth: mastery begins on the ground, imagination matters, and the soul of the game often reveals itself in the simplest of strokes.

St. Andrews Ladies’ Putting Club

An important and often overlooked chapter in the story of the Himalayas is its deep connection to Old Tom Morris and to the women of St Andrews, whose influence helped shape the putting green’s enduring cultural role. Old Tom, the great greenkeeper, course architect, and custodian of the links, understood that golf needed spaces not only for competition, but for learning and inclusion.

Under his watch, the Himalayas were carefully maintained as a place where touch and imagination could be developed without the formality or intimidation of the championship links. His stewardship ensured the green remained accessible to townspeople and visitors alike, reinforcing his belief that golf should belong to everyone.

This philosophy found its purest expression in the St Andrews Ladies’ Putting Club, founded in 1867, the same year the Himalayas opened, making it one of the oldest women’s golf clubs in the world. Denied access to the Old Course itself, local women claimed the Himalayas as their competitive arena, organizing matches, medals, and championships on its rolling surface.

Dressed in long skirts and wide-brimmed hats, they transformed the putting green into a serious sporting venue, complete with rules, traditions, and fierce rivalries.

Their presence elevated the Himalayas beyond practice ground or pastime. It became a stage for equality and quiet defiance, proving that the game’s spirit thrived wherever competition, skill, and respect for the ground were allowed to take root.