On a trip across the pond for a fraternity brother's wedding in the summer of '82, we spent a few tourist hours visiting the Cliffs of Mohr. We were stunned at the lack of security. You could walk right up to the edge (which I most certainly did not!), and sit with your legs dangling over the side. I had the bright Idea to run back to the car to grab a six iron and a few rat balls out of my bag A busload of Japanese tourists delighted in taking videos and pictures of the crazy Americans hitting golf balls off the cliffs. It was amazing how nerve wracking it was to be swinging a club within 5 or 6 feet of the edge -- makes J Spieth's shot on #8 at Pebble even more astounding. I recall being afraid that the club was going to slip out of my now sweaty hands, and holding it with a death grip.