Bonus Chapter 5: All That's Missing Is The Windmill
As I mentioned earlier, I'm pulling an Inception move (love that movie, btw) and inserting a bonus chapter within the bonus chapters here. This chapter has nothing to do with San Francisco or California or that trip that I'm still in the process of writing about. But I mentioned golf in the last chapter so this seems like an appropriate spot to drop in.
And, as always, if you could not give a flying wooden nickel about golf, feel free to skip this one and move on to whenever I write the next California chapter. I won't judge you. Much.
My father celebrated his 70th birthday a while back. For years, every time one of my kids had a birthday, he and Mom would give them a trip somewhere as a gift. Usually it was a day trip, but every once in a while they'd go on a longer one. So the birthday trip became a tradition in our family. When my father hit the big milestone, my brothers and I hit upon the idea that we could take him on his own trip. He's always loved the idea of taking his boys on a golf trip somewhere, but it's never quite worked out, what with our jobs and kids and commitments and
budget committees hanging over our heads. So we offered him a trip to North Carolina to play a golf course that has always been on his Bucket List to try (and as it happened, mine too).
Then one thing after another happened--my one brother started his own architecture firm in New Hampshire and was working hard to get that off the ground, and my other brother got laid off and then found a new job that forced him to move to Ohio while also finding out that his wife was expecting their third child.
Basically, I could never nail them down on the calendar.
So, out of a desire to actually deliver on the 70th birthday gift before my father turned 75, I ended up talking to everyone and then made arrangements to take my father, just the two of us, with my brothers' blessing. So they still owe him a gift, but you didn't hear that from me.
Anyway, we drove down to the Pinehurst area of North Carolina. Pinehurst is fairly famous in the golfing world--it's the home of the
Pinehurst resort, which boasts 9 golf courses of its own, not to mention the dozens surrounding the area. The
Pinehurst No. 2 course is their most famous, having hosted the U.S. Open several times among other major championships. The area is full of rolling hills and sandy soils, which makes for prime ground for golf courses (similar to Scottish linksland).
We were not traveling to play Pinehurst, because I still work on a government salary. But to tell the truth, the Pinehurst courses have always looked a little boring to me. Especially when you can compare them to
Tobacco Road Golf Club in nearby Sanford, NC. That's where we were headed.
In my last chapter, I mentioned the name of golf architect Mike Strantz. He renovated the Monterey Peninsula Country Club Shore Course to national acclaim as one of his final projects before succumbing to tongue cancer at the age of 50. I'd first heard of him when playing one of his courses in the Myrtle Beach, SC area. My father and I had both read of Tobacco Road in various golf magazines in articles--it had been hyped as one of the most unique golf courses ever built. It almost always appeared on various rankings of the "toughest golf courses in the country." We'd decided we needed to try it out, just once.
Naturally, after driving all day in beautiful weather, we showed up for our tee time the following morning in a light, cool drizzle. Thankfully, it never rained hard on us (after storms overnight) and we were able to get our round in without an issue.
The place is really beautiful. The course was built out of an old quarry 20 years ago. Strantz had been inspired by the land and got to work building one of the most unique, interesting golf courses I've ever seen.
The clubhouse sits in a pine forest, giving off a laid-back vibe. There's no swimming pool, no giant restaurant, no tennis courts...nothing but a pro shop and a back porch where you can sit and have a beer and watch other groups finish. I liked that.
When I paid for our round, the club pro informed me that they recommend first-time golfers buy a yardage guide to the course. This is a booklet that shows a detailed diagram of every hole, showing how far it is to various landmarks. We would discover later that the pro was not lying. So I picked one up. The quote on the back from the architect was not reassuring.
We hit some warmup shots on the range, practiced putting on the green. Theoretically, warming up like this helps you score better during your actual round.
Narrator: it didn't help.
Tobacco Road is without question the hardest golf course I've ever played. There are blind shots (meaning you can't see your target), huge hills, giant bunkers, fast sloping greens...and that's all on the first hole. Actually, I mis-spoke. The ranger said there are no bunkers on the course. All of the sandy areas were instead to be played as "waste areas" under their own local rule--this meant that you could pick up your ball and improve your lie whenever you hit it in there. Normally, in golf you must play your ball as it lies. I suspect that this local rule was put into place because if you had to play some of these shots where they lay you'd never, ever get out of the bunker. We'd still be there.
Tobacco Road is all about one's attitude. It's said that you can learn more about a person's character in one round of golf than in a lifetime of conversation, and I think there's a lot of truth to that. You can learn if someone is honest--do they count all of their shots? Call penalties on themselves? You can learn if they can handle adversity--do they throw tantrums? Whine and complain about bad breaks? Or do they buckle down and say, "Watch this shot!"
My father and I decided that you absolutely cannot play this course without a sense of humor. Here is the view from the very first tee:
We burst out laughing at that. That is easily one of the most intimidating first tee shots I've ever seen on a golf course. They're asking you to thread the needle between these two giant "mountains" (probably about 60-70 feet high with your driver, the least accurate club in the bag. If ever there was a shot that warned a golfer about what he is in for, it's this one.
And yet, it's all about visual intimidation. These hills are only about 180 yards out. I average about 250-260 yards off the tee. So if I can just hit my normal shot, the fairway opens up much wider beyond:
You just have to get out of your own way and hit the shot correctly.
Narrator: He didn't.
I actually did thread the needle, but I sliced it enough that my ball rolled into some thick rough beyond--the stuff in the right side of the above photo. It would be that kind of a day.
And you know what? I didn't care in the least. My father and I have never had so much fun getting our butts kicked on the golf course.
We just enjoyed the ride, attempting to hit across an ocean of sand on hole 4:
Narrator: He didn't.
Or looking at the crazy sloping green on number 7. Keep in mind that the camera flattens out slopes. My father hit his ball on the front of this green. He could barely see over the ridge to where the pin was, in the back. And he's 6'2" tall.
We couldn't believe how far uphill number 9 was. For scale, reference the golf cart from the group ahead of us, on the right side of the photo.
This was the par-5 11th hole, which required us to navigate around a gaping sand pit at least 30 feet deep. I attempted to carry the bunker in one heroic shot.
Narrator: He got out his sand wedge for his next shot.
I mean, look at this. This will either make you quit the game in a rage or burst out laughing. I couldn't stop giggling.
It got even more ludicrous, if that's possible. The 13th hole is another par 5, playing around a couple of bends and uphill to a green that is...well, unlike any I've ever seen in my life. This was my approach shot (yes, from another bunker). Where do I hit this? Do you see the flag?
Let's zoom in a bit. See it now? On the left?
The green is hidden completely from view in a sunken pit. They actually had to put the flag on an extended 10-ft.-tall pole in order for us to (barely) be able to see it. You basically have to hit it and hope. But the cool thing is, if you hit it right, almost all of the slopes will feed the ball down to the green. You just have to hit it right.
Narrator: He didn't.
We'll call it the Pit of Despair.
However, while we were struggling to find each ball after every shot, we couldn't help but notice how beautiful the course was. It almost looked like a Salvador Dali painting come to life, the way the slopes kind of all melted into each other.
Anyway, you get the idea. We finished our round with the par-3 17th hole, across yet another ocean of sand to a tiny sliver of a green that looked like it was miles away.
Again, that's visual intimidation. It's really only about 120 yards, or a pitching wedge for me. I actually hit the green on this one. It's one of the narrowest greens I've ever seen--about 4-5 feet wide at its narrowest point.
Narrator: He missed the birdie putt, though.
The 18th and final hole gives one last kick in the teeth. They make you hit your drive over this quarry wall of rock.
My father and I laughed the whole day. I typically shoot somewhere in the 80's over 18 holes. Here, I barely broke 100. I've never had so much fun playing such bad golf. We talked about how much we'd like to try again, now that we had some idea of where the holes went and where to hit shots. Of course, that idea depends on us being able to make the ball go where we want it to.
I guess that doesn't matter. The biggest indicator of how our day went was right there: we couldn't wait to try this again someday.