While researching unusual things to do in Australia, we came across something called the Nullarbor Links golf course - advertised as the longest course in the world at a staggering 1,365 kilometres.

Given that neither of us is the longest hitter in the world, we were relieved to find out that the 18 holes are of normal distance, but spread at various intervals across the Nullarbor Plain in Western and South Australia. The idea is that you play a hole (occasionally two), then drive anything up to 180km, play another hole, get back in the car and so on.

That sounded like a great concept, especially as the drive across the Nullarbor is notoriously dull. The only problem was that we didn't have any clubs - we could hire them at each location, but that would add at least $75 to the basic $50 cost. We considered buying a starter set from a sports shop so that we would at least have some consistency, but that would have been a minimum of $400.

While in Fremantle, however, Katy's friend Laura had suggested going along to a car boot sale just up the road. We hunted around the various stalls and found one guy selling four clubs. I was inspecting a pitching wedge when the seller said if we bought it we could have the other three for free. Even though one of them was an old fashioned 3-wood (and yes, I mean really made of wood) we bit his hand off because the price was only $1.

The other clubs were short range irons so that was a good start, but we really needed a decent driver plus some longer irons and a putter. We found the latter two types at another stall - three clubs for $9. We had seen a possible driver for $20 on our first walk round, but when we returned it had been sold.

That was a shame because the only other stall with such a club was run by a right shifty little sod. He had three drivers for sale and when we initially asked the price he said $10 each. When we went back, however, and asked him for his best (ie minimum) price, he said $15! That's 50% inflation in about 45 minutes. Just imagine what that would be compounded over a year!

We told the stall holder what we thought of his tactics and headed off. For a total outlay of $10 we had the following: a 3-wood, 5- 7- and 9-irons, pitching and sand wedges, plus a putter. All were of different makes, sizes and grips - but we would have to make do as we went into battle with the Nullarbor behemoth. The only practice we managed was a quick session at a driving range in Boulder with mixed results. Undaunted, we set off the next day for the start at nearby Kalgoorlie.

The first two holes were located at a proper golf club - well, that was how the locals described it though I would beg to differ. In my experience, golf is played on green stuff and if you hit your ball onto something brown then you're in trouble. Not in Kalgoorlie, however, where the fairways are basically red dirt with some patches of faded grass. An additional hazard were the kangaroos, though when we played they were asleep under the trees.

After getting a good drive away at the first hole and then hitting a reasonable second shot, I totally lost the plot trying first to hack the ball off the rutted earth and then to putt across brown "greens" made of packed sand. My score of 10 made Katy's 7 look excellent, particularly as she had one extra stroke when she hit her ball with a practice swing by accident.

Hole 2 went much better, however, when I followed an excellent drive (I was beginning to like the ancient 3-wood) with a long iron close to the green. I almost made par, being on line but just short with my putt. On returning to the car we discovered we could have done even better, because it was only then that we read the course-specific rules and found out that we could move the ball on the fairways if it landed in a bad spot. Aha!

Suitably encouraged, we drove on to Kambalda where we encountered similar conditions except that the greens were an even darker shade of brown. (I won't bore you with the details of scores etc for the rest of the blog unless something good - or bad - happens.)

Third stop of the day was at Norseman, where we played two holes and first encountered greens made of artificial turf. They looked nice from a distance but were horrible to play on because any approach that landed on them just shot over the back and it was like trying to putt on glass. We weren't enthralled to read that we would be playing on them for the next 12 holes. Katy, however, managed an excellent 6 at the 436m, par-4 fifth hole, thanks to a couple of belting shots with the wood.

We then drove on to the Fraser Range sheep station to stay the night there. The camp site was nice and modern, and was set in a pretty location though it didn't possess anywhere near the character of the similar camp we had stayed at near Mount Trio in the Stirling Ranges.

Our opinion might have been affected by the woman in charge, however, because she was one of the rudest people we have met in the entire country. On parking up near the office, I got out of the car and while waiting for Katy to put her shoes on (no, don't ask) ambled towards a nearby building housing some barbecues.

"Where are you going? You have to sign in first!" the woman bellowed at me. We dutifully followed her into the office where she brusquely took our money and explained the arrangement of the camp - though failed to tell us that there was a proper kitchen. We explained we were playing the golf course and she told us we needed to give her our score cards to stamp (which proves you have done each hole). When we replied that we wouldn't be playing until the following morning so could do it then, she almost shouted back that, "I won't be here until after eight o'clock! If you don't get them now, then they won't get stamped!" Charm personified.

The hole was a simple-looking par-3, but was downhill to the (bloody artificial turf) green and the intervening ground was earth the texture of concrete, with patches of wispy grass and pebbles. Katy, however, managed to notch up a 4 - I won't reveal my own embarrassment.

The next hole was at the Balladonia roadhouse - made briefly famous in 1979 when the remains of the US Skylab space station fell on it. Balladonia will probably now be famous as the home of the most awful-looking hole on the course, and believe me that is saying something.

It's only a par-3 at 175 metres long, but the concept of a fairway has been completely turned on its head. The route to the hole consists of undulating baked mud which is covered in scrub - not 'rough' (to use golfing parlance), not even 'heavy rough', but scrubby bushes and prickly plants. And that's not even to mention the snakes which inhabit the hole - at least there's a warning about them in the course notes. The green is protected by trees and earthen ramparts embedded with roots. Only a perfect tee shot can save you from misery.

It was here that we refined our version of the rules and the scoring system, and came up with a more practical and enjoyable way to play the course. Rather than risk losing balls constantly in the wilderness, one of us would head off and act as a 'spotter' while the other played. We also interpreted the 'preferred lies' rule quite generously and completely disastrous shots were sometimes replayed - something like the way Americans allow 'mulligans'. We justified this on the grounds that a) we only had ancient clubs and b) my painful left wrist couldn't take any jarring if I mis-hit into the baked ground. Golfing purists might regard this as tantamount to cheating - as might anyone who plays the course regularly - but we regarded it as essential for our physical and mental well-being.

From there, it was on to Caiguna and a very nice hole which involved having to hit your drive over extensive scrubland and then make a dogleg approach shot through a narrow gap to the green. After that came Cocklebiddy - similarly over scrub, but then a straight route along smooth baked mud. Finally, we drove to the Madura roadhouse but decided to defer the hole until the next morning in favour of having a well-deserved beer.

That was a mistake. No, not because we got drunk and ended up with hangovers. How could anyone think such a thing about us?

The mistake was that when we woke up on the morning it was raining. We tried waiting to no avail and in the end played another of the Nullarbor's patented "par-3 over dense jungle" holes. This one was uphill as well, but we felt quite proud when we both managed it in 5, especially given the heavy drizzle.

Back in the car, we had to proceed quite carefully because the rain had brought the kangaroos out from the surrounding terrain. We counted a dozen drinking from puddles which had formed on the road. Luckily they all bounced off as we approached so we didn't end up with any roadkill on our 'roo bar'.

Next stop was Mundrabilla and another dogleg , before travelling on to Eucla. A traveller's tip - the petrol at these two locations is a lot cheaper than elsewhere on the Nullarbor. The fact that most of the other stations are owned by one company might have something to do with that, we concluded.

Eucla proved to be one of our favourite holes. It's called the Nullarbor Nymph after a hoax cooked up a few years ago by a local who came up with a story that there was a naked blonde woman living wild with kangaroos and dingoes in the vicinity. The world's media descended on Eucla, apparently, even the BBC sending a crew, before the tall tale was eventually debunked.

The hole itself was a long par-4 over strands of wheat-like grass embedded into the hardest ground we had yet encountered. It was also covered in shards from clay pigeon shooting from the nearby range. I don't know if Katy's second shot hit one of these, but it took the most enormous bounce and carried for a total of about 180 metres.

We then got back into Ramsey and crossed into South Australia for the first time where the aptly named Border Village hole was right next to a giant fibreglass kangaroo. Teeing off through a narrow gap in the trees and bushes, we both notched rather neat 4s.

Final stop of the day was at the Nullarbor roadhouse. The hole there is notorious for being inhabited by a crow which constantly steals balls, carrying them off to an undiscovered location. It's a very long par-5 and our method of one person playing while the other checks where the ball lands worked well in preventing the crow making off with any trophies in the fading light. For this hole, we had an audience of people from the adjacent caravan park, who said they had been entertained by the antics of the crow and the attempts of the golfers to get the ball in the hole in a reasonable time and score. We actually managed both and received a round of applause for our efforts.

We had another try the next morning to see if we could improve still further. Katy knocked a shot off her total from the previous evening, but we have to report that the cunning avian got the best of us. Having lulled us into a false sense of security by not appearing initially, the crow suddenly swooped onto one of my shots. Katy was a bit off the pace and ran shouting towards it, but my ball disappeared into the sky.

Nundroo was next on the list - another long par-5 but over a ridge to a pin protected by trees. I hit three nice shots but the last just pulled into the grass close to the green and was never found.

The last but one location was at Penong. The hole was only short for a par-4 at 260 yards, but had trees placed cleverly across the (reasonable) fairway so you had to try to place your shots, rather than just belting the ball as hard as you could. The green had been covered in dust and was wet, which combined to make the pace more normal. To our great joy, we both holed monster putts for scores of 5 each.

The course finished for us at Ceduna - you can play it in either direction, depending at which end of the Nullarbor you start. There were two holes at the local golf club and this time it was indeed recognisable as a proper course. We played them in fine rain rather than wait till the next morning, but didn't care because this was our final effort. The fairways were (almost) like normal though the greens consisted of fine chips of bitumen. For some reason, however, this worked really well and we found we could actually putt properly.

After the last ball was holed, we stood on the 18th 'black' and took photos to celebrate our achievement. Our scores went down as 119 for me and 125 for Katy, though would have been much, much higher if we had continued to suffer under the strict rules of golf. However, the Nullarbor Links isn't just about being strict. It's about enjoying yourself on what would otherwise be a tedious journey and in that sense it's a fantastic thing to do.

Richard