Philip Walton grimaced at the memory. "Look," he said, holding out his left hand. "That finger hasn't been right since." We were reminiscing about his pioneering days, back in 1981, when he gained the distinction of becoming the first prospective Walker Cup player to display his skills on the inhospitable terrain of Iceland.

Their golfing season, which began last May, is now drawing to a close. But it was July when Walton travelled there from the British Open at Royal St George's, as a member of the Ireland team to compete in the European Youths Team Championship. And he caught a finger between two volcanic rocks.

It happened at the Grafarholt Course, near Reykjavik, where the rough was, in fact, dotted liberally with rocks of all shapes and sizes. Those which are not embedded may be moved without penalty but the more prudent action is to take a penalty drop.

Anyway, as the accompanying photograph indicates, Walton did what might be expected of any fearless 19-year-old and decided to move some rocks so as to clear a path for his ball. In the event, he caught the middle finger of his left hand between two stones which inflicted cuts above and below the knuckle, causing blood to seep through his leather glove.

The decision by the European Golf Association to stage an important team championship in Iceland, was aimed at propagating the game among its modest population of 250,000. But of the 14 nations which took part, Ireland were the only representatives from these islands.

So, did the experiment work? Were the EGA vindicated in taking so bold a step? The answer lay not in the actual outcome of the championship in which, incidentally, Ireland lost to Spain in the final, but in the game's progress in Iceland over the ensuing years.

In 1981, Grafarholt was the country's only 18-hole course, though a second one was completed close to the northern town of Akureyri a year later. There was a total of 18 courses serving 21 clubs and 2,200 players.

Now, 17 years on, there are 7,000 players in 53 clubs. And Irish observers had the opportunity of witnessing Iceland's astonishing progress when they made the top flight in the European Amateur Team Championship at Portmarnock last year. No matter that they lost to Scotland, Denmark and Germany in the matchplay stage: the fact that they eventually finished eighth among the 22 competing nations was a remarkable achievement.

Such progress has to be seen against the background of a country of 39,700 square miles where upwards of 60 per cent of the terrain is bare rock or rock material. Indeed, when NASA needed to train astronauts who would land and walk on the moon, they sent them to Iceland.

"I've never seen a project that is impossible," said the country's foremost golf-course designer, Hannes Thorstenisson, who has as many as 30 developments to his credit. "There's always a way. But it is a question of finding the best way."

Describing the construction of the Keilr Club outside Reykjavik, he went on: "I just walked and walked. Finally I found little valleys and depressions I wanted to follow with the fairways. We didn't use a single tube of dynamite or anything to explode it. We just crushed the lava with the big bulldozers. That was it."

Among his favourite holes is a wicked little par three, measuring no more than 80 yards, at the Oddfellows Club. As it happens, the ease with which players can make birdie there is offset by those who hit the ball into the adjoining lava field and risk breaking a club in their attempts at pitching onto the green.

But one element of Icelandic golf has remained unchanged over the years - the hazards of playing at the nine-hole Ness course, situated on a peninsula about seven kilometres from Reykjavik. The Arctic terns are as fearsome now as they were when the then president of the GUI, John McInerney and president-elect Fred Perry were caught unawares by them in 1981.

At first, their attention was caught by a bird cry, not unlike that of a common seagull. But our intrepid golfers became a little concerned when it was accompanied by a rapid rattattat, such as a woodpecker might make.

Suddenly, the birds swooped like miniature dive-bombers and it was only through some adroit footwork by McInerney and wild swinging of a mid-iron by Perry that injury was averted. The fact is that Arctic terns which migrate to this part of Iceland to breed, become dangerously aggressive when they believe their nesting areas in the calf-high rough, are being threatened.

A regular at the course said recently: "We've had many servicemen here and when the birds attack, they say it reminds them of when they were in the war, being bombed." Not surprisingly, Ness is probably the only course in the world where a player is perfectly content not to get a birdie.

When I spoke with Grafarholt secretary, Gunnar Torfason, back in 1981 while reporting the Youths' event for The Irish Times, he said modestly: "We will never win anything in international golf. We believe, however, that we can become one of the better nations in Europe, like we are in other sports. For a nation our size, that is something of which we could be proud."

On the evidence of Portmarnock '97, Torfason may be selling his country short. Only eight years ago, Iceland had its first, home-grown PGA-accredited teaching professional. It was also in 1990 that they acquired their own, formally-trained agronomist.

Now, they have their own tournament professionals, who are battle-hardened for any conditions. "I've been out on the golf course where I've gotten blue in the face," said Karen Saevars dottir, who plays on the US Futures Tour. "When its cold and windy and raining very hard, it definitely makes you tougher."

But there are the benefits of having virtually non-stop daylight. "It's easier for us to play all summer than it is in Europe and the US, because you can go out whenever you want," said Bjorgvin Thorsteinsson. "You don't have to book a tee-time. You can start in the morning and you can play at midnight. So, it's easier for youngsters here to get a game."

Ten years ago, Ulfar Jonsson was Iceland's most successful player, with four national junior and six amateur titles. Against that background, it is hardly surprising that he became their first player to test his skills in the US.

This arose from an outstanding performance in finishing second in the Doug Sanders Tournament in Aberdeen, which prompted Sanders to contact Dave Mannen, the golf coach at Houston University. The upshot was that Jonsson was offered a scholarship at Houston where he arrived the year after Colin Montgomerie left. He later transferred to Southwestern Louisiana.

"It meant I was able to go to another level - to become a professional," he said. "I could only go so far, practising in Iceland, but in the States I was playing great golf courses with excellent competition. It was just a fantastic time."

Meanwhile, one of the highlights of the Icelandic season is the Arctic Open at the Akureyri Club, which attracts competitors from all over the world. Played at a time of year when the sun sets for only a few minutes, competition is scheduled at the beginning and end of each day with the result that taking a midnight break means precisely that.

"It's golf in a way that golf was meant to be played," said Don Gaumer of US manufacturers Sun Mountain Sports, who are sole sponsors of the Arctic Open. "It's not about pretentiousness, nor about greenery. You might play with the town plumber just as easily as with a bank president. And the courses have been created the way God meant them to be created."

He added: "I've done the Scotland and the Ireland thing, but if there was one trip to be made, the Arctic Open would be it."

Golf-course designer Thorsteinsson, shares the belief that Iceland can never be a serious golfing nation, as such. "Chances are we will not have a six-man team good enough to beat, say England or Scotland," he conceded. "But in golf, as it other sports, we will occasionally produce a character who makes headlines on an international level."

He went on: "Generally speaking, we would be pretty much content, I think, if we could be placed third or fourth in Scandinavia every now and then."

Which seems an eminently reasonable aspiration. Indeed Walton might very well consider it to be worthy of the damaged finger he invested in the Icelandic game, 17 years ago.