Nay to the Wind

Spring finally sprang, and I've been out on the course at least once a week for the past month and a half. Nothing particularly memorable has happened during this time (that I can write about anyway). My scoring has stayed in the 90s, my driving is not quite back up to big bopper status but getting there, and my putting has been mostly pitiful.

Yesterday, hubby and I played a private club course situated in a valley where the wind from four corners seemed to have a regular rendezvous. This wasn't a mild breeze, but a whipping, constant 25-mile-an-hour wind, with gusts strong enough to blow the securely strapped baseball cap off my head. The pro shop guys described it as "links" golf, a term usually meant to describe a treeless, windy course near the coast. While this private course was miles from the beach, it did have few trees and a lot of wind, so much wind that I felt sun-burned and weather-beaten after our relatively short three-and-a-half hour round. We walked with three-wheel push carts, which were on the heavy side for me. In the bright sun and relentless winds and undulating hills that had unnecessarily lengthy walks between greens to tees, there were times I felt like a nomad on caravan traveling to the next hole.

Hubby says there is a Scottish saying, "Nay wind, nay golf," which basically means without wind, you're not playing golf. But I say nay to the wind. I prefer the kind of golf where the course has lots of trees to block the wind and offer shade when it gets hot, gently sloped fairways that don't make you feel like you're climbing Everest, and lush, green grass that makes you want to have a picnic -- in short, the kind of course that makes you feel like you're in a park. Appropriately enough, the official term for this type of course is a "parkland" course.

After our round, we were so tired and ravenous we could barely make it out to a local barbecue joint to refuel. Occasionally, a links-style course might be fun to play. I mean, the wind does keep the bugs away, and you really feel deserving of your post-round pig-out. But for my regular weekly rounds, I prefer the parkland.

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.

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.

Day 3 at TPC Sawgrass: Monster in the Valley

The day after we played the Stadium Course, we had a 1:35pm tee time to play Dye's Valley, the "other" course at TPC Sawgrass. Although the Nationwide Tour is played here, Dye's Valley is more of a resort course and the greens fees are a lot cheaper than at the Stadium. Because it was twilight, we didn't get a forecaddie, so we bought a yardage book for $5 at the pro shop. Driving over in our golf cart to check in with the starter at the first hole, it felt like we were a world away from the excitement of the previous day. Even though it was 10 degrees warmer here than back home, the low 60s temps felt chilly because I was only wearing capri pants and a light jacket. If I'd have brought long pants and a turtleneck, I would have been just fine.

Luckily, hubby and I got to play as a twosome, and it turned out to be a calm, relaxed round, despite the constant drizzle.

 

At Dye's Valley, there is water everywhere.

And some distinctive bunkerage that reminds me of a volcano.

The course is adorned with trees draped in Spanish moss, dewy from the rain.

The best part was that hubby got to see my Loch Ness monster drive. Maybe it was the long fairways that beckoned. Maybe it was the lack of sun to distract me. Or, maybe I had finally gotten my muscles to memorize some decent technique. Whatever the reason, I was easily driving 170 to 180 yards on each hole. Although I scored a 103 here and caught a cold in the rain, I considered the round a success.

On each drive, I had that simple swing thought about shaking hands. On the backswing, I imagined I was reaching out with my left hand to shake the hand of an imaginary person standing to the right. Hubby and I had seen Greg Norman give a tip about shaking hands on the Golf Channel, although we still weren't sure if he had meant the right hand or the left hand. I thought it was the left hand, and that's what worked for me.

But, swing thoughts can be fleeting, and I wondered whether my longer drives would hold up back home. But we still had another day left in Ponte Vedra, and another few days before I would find out.

Day 2 at TPC Sawgrass: The 17th Hole

Our first day in Ponte Vedra was chilly and rainy. But when we woke up the next morning, this was the view from our room at the Marriott.
The sun was out. It looked like a good day to play the Stadium Course.

The pool looked inviting, but temps were in the 60s. Plus, we had a 10:40am tee time.

After a stop at the Sawgrass Marriott spa to do a 30-minute golf stretch using a stretching pole,
we drove over to the TPC Sawgrass Clubhouse to check in.

I went to the ladies locker room to change my shoes, since this golf course didn't seem like the kind of place where you could change shoes in the parking lot. Plus, they had free granola bars in a bowl there. Perfect for a golf snack.

We hit balls at the range till our forecaddie called us. They had just done a grounds treatment on the front nine, so we started at Hole 10.

It's cartpath only here. The grounds are so pristine, I even felt guilty walking on them in my rubber cleats. The forecaddie is the guy in the white jumpsuit, running ahead to locate someone's ball. He gave advice about where to aim to avoid trouble. Having him point out where the balls landed saved a lot of time.

The landscaping is gorgeous. Here's a huge tree dripping with Spanish moss (it's a parasite, I know, but it still looks pretty). There are no wooden posts to signify yardages. So, you either look for a sprinkler head or ask the forecaddie. I kinda wish I had bought a yardage book at the pro shop, though. They are only $5 and have drawings and distances for each hole.

In one hole, the forecaddie pointed out an alligator resting along the hill behind hubby. Or was it a crocodile? I can never remember which is which.

The back tees had a lot of forced carries.

The famous 17th Hole has forced carries for everyone.
And what a cute little bunker! Like a bellybutton!

Here's that par 3 from the other side.

The 17th hole green looks pretty far from the blue tees.
It's only 128 yards. I think I could make that with a 9-wood.

The 17th hole green looks closer from the white tees.
It's 115 yards from here. I would use a 6-iron, but I'd have to really kill it.

Hubby tees off from the whites.

He shoots. Does he score?

Yes! He made it! I knew he would.

My turn from the green tees. It's 92 yards from here. I use an 8-iron. I aim with a technique that Seri taught me. I put the club shaft across my chest and point it at the flag, then line up my feet parallel to the shaft. Seri told me she learned this on YouTube.

My backswing. Looks like my left arm isn't straight.
Also looks like I had too much sushi for dinner the night before.

The follow-through. Did I make it? Someone tell me I made it!

Yeah, I made it!!!
That's my pink ball in the front there.
The forecaddie is repairing all of our ball marks.

It took me three putts to hole out. I was afraid of hitting the ball too hard or it would roll off the other side of the green. So I bogeyed. Hubby made par.

We left that hole pretty happy. TPC Stadium Course is awesome!
From the championship tees, it's 137 yards to the green. I could make that with a 7-wood. I had so much fun playing the course, I didn't even worry about my driving distances. I just tried to play my best. I ended up with a 105 on my score card. Not bad at all (for me, anyway)!

Day 1 at TPC Sawgrass: Shaking Hands

The day after Valentine's Day, hubby and I flew down to Ponte Vedra, Florida, to spend a few days at TPC Sawgrass. In case you don't know, TPC Sawgrass is home to two championship courses, the Players Stadium and Dye's Valley Course. The 17th hole par 3 at the Players Stadium course is one of the most famous golf holes in the world. Each May, during The Players Championship, you'll see the world's top golfers take aim at this heart-shaped island green and either miss completely or land the shot only to have the ball dribble off into the water. If they make it on, then it's a nerve-wracking putt or two or even three. The green has some diabolically tricky breaks that make it a challenge for the pros. But that doesn't stop regular golfers coming to try their luck here. Last year, about 120,000 golf balls were fished out of the water here. That's a lot of lost balls.

We arrived in the early afternoon and checked into the Sawgrass Marriott. Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to stay at the Marriott to play TPC Sawgrass, but if you do, you'll be closer to the course than anywhere else. Our room had this view of the 13th hole of the Stadium course across the water: 

To be honest, this Marriott could use a renovation. It's a busy resort, but we had stains on the curtains and the armchair looked so worn and dirty I had to put a towel over it before I sat on it. The bedsheets were clean, but I wouldn't go barefoot on the carpet. Enough complaining about the hotel, though. It is what it is.

To get into the Sawgrass frame of mind (by the way, sawgrass is a kind of grass and it is sharp like a saw), we headed over to the Clubhouse, which is about a minute away by car from the hotel. Even in low season, this place is bustling. As you can see, however, the weather was not the greatest. It was cloudy and drizzly. Temps were only in the mid-60s.

 

The Clubhouse is open to the public, and there are two restaurants for public dining, one casual and one more formal. We opted for the casual restaurant, Nineteen, and got seated outside on the covered verandah. There were several other couples and foursomes around, mostly older white people who looked rich and retired. Our waiter was super-friendly, though, and made us feel comfortable and welcome, as if weren't just another couple of golf tourists from up north.

I ordered the appetizer of kobe beef sliders, which was a big enough portion for me to consider it lunch.

My husband ordered a barbecue chicken sandwich that had avocado slices on it and came with fries.

Our waiter told us he gets to play TPC Sawgrass for free. I asked if he was some kind of golf pro, and he said no, he "only" shoots in the 80s.

After lunch, we went back to our hotel room for a nap. Then we returned to the Clubhouse to hit balls at the practice range. We brought our golf bags to the cart drop and staff members loaded them onto a cart. The practice balls come in green drawstring sacks that you get at the pro shop. We got three sacks apiece. We drove over to the practice area and then another guy in a golf cart suddenly drove along after us.

"Sir, sir," the guy said to my husband. "You can't wear jeans at the practice facility."

I looked at my husband. He was indeed wearing jeans. The only other pants he'd brought were golf shorts and it was too chilly to wear them. Rather than run back to the hotel to change, he decided to go buy a pair of golf pants at the pro shop. About 15 minutes later, he returned wearing golf shorts because they didn't have any long pants in his size.

"How much were they?" I asked.
"Forty-eight bucks," he said.
I shook my head.

Once we started hitting balls, it was so foggy I could barely see where the balls landed. The shortest flag was 88 yards away. The next one after that was 123 yards, then no flags till the 200-plus yardage. This is definitely a practice area for the pros.

The ground was hard and the grass was worn down to show soil. It was like hitting out of other people's divots.

There is an area reserved for tour academy students and pros, but the public is not allowed there. I bet their grass is greener.

After my husband finished his sacks of balls, he watched me hitting the rest of mine. I had been focusing on practicing with my 8-iron, in preparation for the 17th hole at the Stadium Course, which is 92 yards from the forward tees. Then I switched to woods and driver. My driver was piddling around 150 yards, as far as I could tell.

"You don't really do that 'shaking hands' thing," my husband said quietly.
"Huh?" I said. "Oh yeah."

"Shake hands" was a tip we had seen on the Golf Channel recently. Greg Norman was explaining that when he drives, he reaches his arm out like he's going to shake someone's hand. It encourages good extension. I hadn't tried it yet. But somehow, in the shadows and fog, and with my husband's voice calm and devoid of any hint of offering advice, I was open to trying it out.

So I tried it. On the takeaway, I extended my left arm like I was going to shake someone's hand. My follow-through felt slower, but more effortless in some way. It felt the same as those long breakthrough drives I'd had on the back nine that day I'd played with Seri a couple weeks ago. The result was the same: a monster drive.

My husband smiled. And so did I. I had finally found a way to repeat my long (but really pretty average) drive. Would this help me out on the Stadium Course? Stay tuned to find out...