Admiral Baker Golf Course, North and South

During the last two days of our SoCal trip, hubby and I finally hit our stride in terms of daily golf. We'd heard the name Admiral Baker tossed around as another inexpensive local course, so we decided to give it a try. Whoever Admiral Baker was, he must have been a fun guy to be around because they named two 18-hole golf courses and a recreational swimming complex after him.

If you're active duty, you can get on here for as little as $11. As "unsponsored civilians," we still only paid $30. We played the South Course first, which is very flat and very walkable, though not particularly spectacular in terms of the view. The starter was as friendly as they come, and he paired up hubby and I with a middle-aged woman from Utah and her non-playing daughter-in-law, as well as a guy whom I will call Sunny since that's the kind of personality he had. Plus, his shiny bald-shaven head reminded me of the sun. He happened to work at the golf course as a groundskeeper, so he knew the lay of the land, literally. Not that it seemed to help out his game, because on one of the first few tee shots, he promptly shanked his driver so hard the club head flew off. On another hole, he mishit another tee shot and his ball bounced toward the middle-aged woman's golf cart and struck the non-playing daughter-in-law in the arm. It was as if Sunny was staging these Caddyshack moments for our entertainment. The round turned out to be full of chatter, but we had so much fun it didn't matter that I shot a 109.

Sunny told us we absolutely had to play the North Course. It had recently been completely renovated, and Sunny promised us it was as good as any resort course. I am not sure if I would agree, but for the price (same as the South Course), it is money well-spent. Unlike the South Course, the North Course has a fair degree of level changes and some holes feel carved out of a mountain or set atop a plateau. All the holes were marked by those fancy stones with painted fairway maps, as well as artfully arranged cairns.

There were lots of pretty palm trees. This bare twig of a tree appeared to be posing for our attention. If you look closely you can see the blackbirds sitting in a row on its longest branch. They must be avid golf fans.

 

As Sunny promised, there were some resort-worthy holes, such as this picturesque par 3. The bunkers are much larger than they appear. I think the bunker on the left is about the same size as my living room.

Then there was the intriguing set-up at this par 4 on the back nine. The hole was a sharp dogleg left down and around a steep, rocky hill. It involved a tee shot so blind, it had to have its own warning system. It was so very military.

Perhaps because hubby and I were on our own at the North Course, I was able to focus and play a little better and I shot a 98. Maybe not the greatest score ever, but at least I finally broke 100 on vacation.

Since getting home to the East Coast, I've been dabbling in the mid 90s and feeling somewhat frustrated that it's been a whole year and I still haven't beat my all-time low score of 87. On the upside, hubby played so well on our trip that it reignited his passion for golf and suddenly he wants to play every weekend again. Despite my lack of game, this kinda makes life rather blissful lately. In fact, our 7th wedding anniversary is coming up, and hubby's planned another golf getaway for us. We're headed to the Eastern Shore this time, and I just hope the weather holds up!

Balboa Park Golf Course

I know, it's the end of October and I still haven't finished writing about my September trip to SoCal, so here goes...Usually, when we visit San Diego, we like to play Coronado, which is one of the best and most beautiful bargains in public golf that I know of. But now I can add another San Diego city course to that list -- Balboa Park GC. At just $40 each for non-residents, hubby and I enjoyed a scenic and challenging round of golf in the heart of San Diego.

We had a Sunday morning tee time, and it wasn't particularly crowded. We had plenty of time to hit some practice balls at the cliff-side range, which gave hubby a case of vertigo every time he looked over the edge.

At the first tee, we were joined by two older gentlemen who actually belonged to local country clubs, but were playing Balboa Park that day for old time's sake. When hubby said he was playing from the blues, the guys looked askance at him and said, "Are you sure?" So he succumbed to peer pressure and played from the whites with the old fellas, which was probably a good idea because Balboa Park is one of those courses that plays longer than it is.

Here's the ramp down to the first tee, where the contrast between skyline and fairway is not subtle in the least. Of course, that scraggly asphalt and chain link fence is a clue that you're playing a city course.

 

Here's another lovely view, which was so distracting I couldn't keep my eye on my ball. Oh well, the picture was worth the penalty shot.

 

 

And yet another panorama:

 

 

The course was a challenge for me, what with forced carries from the red tees, like this:

 

And this:

 

But there were some cool features like this stairway framed by trees. If heaven turns out to be a golf course, then this could be the steps to the pearly gates.

    

On the back nine, you can't miss this carved shrubbery in the hillside. I thought the graphic on the flag was a picture of a rose, but it is actually a conquistador.

A memorable hole was this long par 5 bordering a ravine. Local knowledge would have come in handy here, but alas, I lost a ball because what looked like a safe landing spot turned out to be a grassy slope to nowhere.

The 18th is an intimidating uphill battle. Those thick trees on the left seem to have magnetic properties of some sort, judging from the way my ball seemed to cling to them.

When all was said and done, I shot a 100 by the skin of my teeth. In the ladies locker room, which has a "birdie tree" documenting all the local women's clubs birdies of the month with cute bird-shaped paper cut-outs, I stood looking out a window at the view one last time, wondering if I'd ever break 100 on this trip.

 

Thankfully, the answer would turn out to be yes, but that's a story for next time.

Rancho Sante Fe Golf Club

After our Torrey Pines North adventure, hubby planned a mini-getaway to the Inn at Rancho Santa Fe, which included playing privileges at the private Rancho Sante Fe Golf Club.

Rancho Santa Fe is about 30 minutes north of San Diego and about 20 minutes south from where we were staying in Carlsbad, but it seemed like another world, this California horse country, with dusty winding roads and sprawling mansions obscured by long private drives and the dense foliage of mature trees.

Like most private golf clubs, RSF has a strict dress code. I wore bright orange shorts that were 3 inches shorter than the requested 18-inch minimum, and they hung higher than the desired 5-inch maximum above the knee, but at least I tucked in my brand new turquoise Pebble Beach sleeveless polo shirt ($9.97 from Costco). Hubby, who had learned the hard way about strict golf club dress codes, dressed appropriately in nice Bermuda shorts and a swank TravisMathew (yes, it's one word) golf polo that he'd bought the day before for $10 from the sale rack at Carlsbad Golf Center.

So we looked the part without having to spend too much. Not that it mattered much, since we had a 12:30pm tee time and the course all to ourselves. It was a privilege indeed to play mid-day, after the morning rush, and with no one in front or behind, we allowed ourselves the luxury to linger over putts, savoring every moment of what turned out to be a 5-hour round.

The first thing I noticed was the adorable cart path markers shaped like the eucalyptus trees that adorn the fairways.

Here's a close-up of the cart path marker:

The course is prettier than pictures can portray. Fairways were trim, and the greens were smooth and true. The course was so well-kept, it was as if it had just opened, and we were the first to play it.

And there was no coarse kikuyu rough here, just civilized Bermuda. Despite that, it was a challenge for me. At 5834 yards from the red tees, the course played longer than I am used to back home.

  

But no matter how poorly I play, I always enjoy the last few holes of a course the most. I know the end is near, so I relax and eke out as much pleasure as I can. Maybe that sense of fun allowed me to make par on the 17th par 3.

I shot a 108, but I at least I ended on a high note. On the par 5 18th, I hit a decent drive and two good woods to get close to the pin. The pin was front, so I though I'd landed the green, but as I walked up, I noticed that I was just off, in the first cut of rough. I also noticed some noise and looked over to see that the clubhouse terrace was filled with people in cocktail attire. Even with an audience, I managed to chip close to the pin for a tap-in putt, making par.

It was a rather enjoyable day, and afterward we retreated to our garden cottage guest room at the nearby Inn, which is a cozy assemblage of rooms and small cottages with Spanish white stucco exteriors and red tiled roofs. The layout of the property is not quite as sprawling and airy as the website pictures suggest, and our cottage did not have a patio suitable for sitting out on, mainly because it faced the street. The Inn had been recently renovated, though, and it felt like a mix of Old Hollywood and modern comfort. The marble bathroom had a claw foot tub with one of those hand-held faucets that look like old-fashioned telephones. I never take baths, but that sort of thing is pretty to look at once in awhile.

Our package deal including a welcome cocktail, which we enjoyed on the patio at Morada, the Inn's only restaurant. The weather was too nice to stay indoors, despite the beckoning elegance of the tufted banquettes and studded leather club chairs. So we sat outside, where the moldy outdoor sofa cushions prevented us from staying too long and made us decide against having dinner there. Instead, we ordered room service, including kobe beef burgers and strawberry shortcake.

 

The next morning, we did have breakfast on the patio at Morada. I ordered the Dungeness crab eggs benedict, a delectable stack of potato cakes, crab meat, spinach, and perfectly poached eggs, topped with a delicious blood orange Hollandaise sauce. I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversations of nearby tables -- wealthy middle-aged women discussing their portfolios and young real estate brokers talking about hot properties. I felt like I was in a reality show on the Bravo network.

After breakfast, we were tempted to try and play Rancho Sante Fe Golf Club again, but we needed a day to rest. I had developed some painful tendonitis in my right forearm, which could only be soothed by some time at the beach. It wasn't till later in the trip that we developed the stamina to golf back-to-back days. Stay tuned to hear all about it...

Torrey Pines North Course aka "Kikuyu, I Hardly Knew You"

It has been while since my last post. Hubby and I didn't get away for vacation till after summer was almost over. But in mid-September, we finally made it out west for 9 days of rest and relaxation, 5 of which were spent golfing.

The day after we arrived, we wasted no time and headed straight to Torrey Pines North Course. We'd played Torrey Pines South Course earlier this year, so we followed the same strategy for getting on: arrive at the course around 9am and get on the walk-on list. Those of you who live in the rest of the country, where democracy and equality are the general rule, may not know that there is such a thing as the Republic of Torrey Pines, which is run by localocracy, so San Diego residents get preferential treatment regarding tee times and fees. Outsiders pay more than twice as much as insiders to play in the land of the Torrey Pine. For example, at TP North, the non-resident greens fee is $100 for weekday mornings, versus $40 for residents. At TP South, out-of-towners pay $183, compared to the $61 pittance for locals.

Anyway, hubby and I know it's worth the splurge, since Torrey Pines is one of the best kept public tracks in the country and a famed course for many a tournament. As we were waiting in line, I overheard the non-resident couple in front of us in line telling the starter they had a tee time made by their San Diego resident "friend," but he woke up sick and couldn't play. The starter didn't fall for that old trick and bumped them to the walk-on list since their San Diegan amigo was required to play with them if he made the tee time.

Once it was our turn, we were able to get an 11am tee time with no problem. (And I made sure we had an actual tee time, to avoid the confusion we'd gone through at the South Course.) We had plenty of time to eat a good breakfast with eggs and sausage and toast, and return to the course to warm up at the range. I had forgotten how useless the range was for testing our club distances, so I just aimlessly hit balls with the set of clubs I keep out west, trying to get used to the feel again. When I golf and travel, half the battle is practicing with unfamiliar clubs.

We arrived at the first tee about 10 minutes early. Then it was hurry up and wait. Turned out, one of the local ladies leagues was having their tournament that day, and things had already gotten slow. Hubby and I were paired with two guys, one who was amiable but taciturn, and reminded me of a blonder, chubbier Emilio Estevez. The other guy, a tall Anthony Bourdain lookalike, at first reminded me of the hot-air-filled shaggy local whom hubby and I played with at the South Course, because he had the same nose-in-the-air, know-it-all demeanor. But it turned out that he was actually quite the golf course expert, in terms of course architecture. He and hubby name-dropped Fazios and Doaks and Dyes till my eye glazed over, and I turned my attention to the ladies on the first hole ahead.

There were 3 groups waiting to tee off in front of us, and since they were all hitting from the reds, I had the chance to see the shots to aim for, and to avoid. Not that this helped me one bit, because when we finally got to tee off, I hit a slice into the right rough. I pranced right up to the ball, and seeing that it was sitting nice and high up on the grass, I felt confident that I could just whack it back into play with my 3-wood.

Boy was I wrong. The rough at Torrey Pines North is what they call kikuyu grass, and it's not the same kind of rough they had on the South course earlier this year. This kikuyu is nasty stuff, which is why you'll hear golf tournament announcers go on and on about it on TV. If you've never played in kikuyu rough, imagine thick, tangled hair that's been teased up to look all neat and smooth on top. Now imagine trying to get a comb through it. The comb would just get stuck in the tangled mess and not budge. This is exactly what happened to my 3-wood when I tried to hit out of the kikuyu like a normal shot. My club got wedged in the grass and the ball skittered maybe 10 yards, into more kikuyu. The next shot, my ball flew diagonally across the fairway, where I learned the kikuyu grass is even meaner on the other side. By the time I holed out of that first par 5, I had an 8 on my scorecard. It was a hard lesson in kikuyu management, and the cardinal rule is "Keep it on the fairway."

Fortunately, I parred the next hole, thus proving to my playmates that I am indeed capable of making par, which is all you need to do so you can relax and enjoy the scenery.

Some holes at Torrey Pines North look a lot like those at Torrey Pines South, especially the ones that face the ocean. A ranger had told us that the kikuyu is "the course's only defense," but I would include the greens that were harder to read than a Joyce novel, and the bunkers, the sand consistency of which reminded me of hardened ice cream with a fuzzy layer of freezer burn. To conserve strength, I didn't bother trying to full-swing it out and instead used the chip-out method that Seri had taught me.

And you'll see the famed paragliders all along the coast. If you play with a local, they will surely explain how the beach below is a topless beach, and they will make a joke about how you can walk along the edge and sightsee.

And Torrey Pines North has plenty of torrey pines. I think these might be young torrey pines. Don't they look like they're holding hands?

Here is a daunting hole, with a fairway sloping left and doglegging right, and nothing but scrub and ocean on the left. My slice would come in handy here. But as I recall, I pulled my tee shot and lost a ball. In the end, I shot a 108. I did, however, make par on three holes, thus proving that I am indeed capable, when conditions are right, of making par.