Single bag
One player, one caddie, undivided attention. Full reads, full club selection, and a running commentary on the ground only if you want one. The purest version of this.
Fourteen clubs and one right answer. If we just walked eighteen together, you already know I'll tell you which, and hand it to you before you finish asking.
Demo site. Wes is a fictional caddie, this is sample work by Rooted Coast Design.
Handed a real card on the eighteenth? Everything you'd need would live right here. No app, no account, no login.
Half the golfers I loop for haven't carried paper money since 2019, and every one of them apologizes for it on the eighteenth green. Stop apologizing. Scan, tap, done, or do it on the plane home when you remember how good that round was.
Built by the caddie, which is the only reason to trust it.
Standard eighteen with a single bag. Round up, hand it over, say the name in the shop.
Send it →Paper cards go through the wash. This one doesn't. Three taps and I'm in your phone, in your group chat, and on the request line for next year, which is the whole reason I stopped printing cards in the first place.
Downloads a proper contact card straight into your phone, name, mobile, email, and a note reminding future-you which caddie this was. Works offline. No app.
Tell the shop "Wes Halloran, loop 114" when you book, ideally 72 hours out. Repeat players who ask for the same caddie all week get priority, and by round three that continuity is worth real strokes.
The other three in your foursome are going to want a caddie too, and whoever organises next year's trip has already forgotten my name. Fix both in one tap.
This goes to my phone, not an inbox somebody checks on Tuesdays. Expect a reply the same evening, usually right after the last group comes in. Tap an open day below and it drops into the form.
Below the hole. Always.
You've got a yardage. Great. You don't have the wind three hundred yards ahead of you, the firmness of the fifth green after two dry days, or the fact that the pin sits four paces onto a shelf that feeds everything short of it back down the hill. That's what I'm for.
I started as a bag-room kid who wasn't allowed past the first tee. Nine seasons later I've walked this property in fog you could chew, in a sideways forty, and in those four perfect October evenings a year when the wind lays down and everything you hit turns out well.
What I actually do: keep your ball out of the gorse, make you putt from places you think you should chip, and take the decision off your plate so the only thing left is the swing. I'll talk if you want to talk. I'll go quiet at the turn if you're playing well and I can tell you know it.
Two rules on my bag. We keep pace, and nobody quits on eleven because it's raining. It's always raining somewhere on this coast. That's the whole point of the place.
There's no cart option and I'd like to keep it that way. Rates are per round unless noted, and the tip is separate.
Swipe, six ways to loop
One player, one caddie, undivided attention. Full reads, full club selection, and a running commentary on the ground only if you want one. The purest version of this.
Two players, both bags on my shoulders. Slightly less hand-holding, same reads, and the best value going. I've done it a thousand times and still talk the whole way.
Three or four carrying their own. I go ahead, track every ball, read every green, and keep you off the blind lines that eat two hours out of a round.
Nine holes, no clubs, first light. We walk the ground before you ever play it, where the fairway actually is, where the wind comes from, which greens lie.
I play alongside and show you the shots instead of describing them. Low running hooks, putting from forty yards, using a slope you'd never aim at. Different sport out here.
Off-season, I'll come to you. Your course, your member-guest, your buddies trip, with a caddie who already knows your game and doesn't need three holes to figure it out.
Six holes out of the eighteen I'd normally keep in my back pocket. Consider it a preview, and proof that the number on your rangefinder is the least interesting thing about a golf shot out here.
Every one of these came from someone who did not have to say anything at all.
Swipe, four loops
"I've played this course eleven times. Wes showed me a line on thirteen I had never once considered. Beat my best score there by six shots, and I hit it worse than usual."
"Brought my dad out for his first links round at seventy-four. Wes carried his bag, his rain jacket, and somehow his confidence. He talked about it until Christmas."
"He handed me a putter from fifty yards short of the green and I laughed out loud. Then it finished four feet. I have not chipped from there since."
"Sideways rain, we all wanted to quit at twelve. Wes just kept walking and telling stories until we forgot to be miserable. Best round of the trip, easily. Asked for him all four days after that."
Fog, gorse, wet sand, low sun. Nobody photographs the good weather, because on the good days we're all too busy playing.
Swipe, the yard
Written on the tailgate after the last loop of the day. Read them before you fly out and you'll play three shots better than the guy who didn't.
Swipe, field notes

Every yardage you trust was measured in still air with soft greens. You have neither.

A short list, tested. Two of these are things almost nobody brings and everybody borrows.

Where you can look, how long you get, and the one decision that saves your card and forty minutes.

Fescue doesn't grain like bent. So what are you reading? Slope, wind, and the sea, in that order.
Asked on the first tee about four hundred times. Answered here so you can spend that minute stretching instead.
See you on the first tee.