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.

Flagstick Popsicle

Golfed yesterday for the second time this year. The temps were high enough lately to melt the snow off 14 holes on the nearest course. I had a 10:46am tee time, and I was so excited I nearly gave myself a neck spasm. But I popped two Advils, calmed myself down, and went to go meet up with a golf gal pal, the woman I had met last year who had defected from the local ladies' league. I walked with my trusty old pull-cart, of course, and she walked with a fancy schmancy motorized cart. We were paired up with a married couple, a retired doctor and his close-to-retirement wife, also walkers. It was a relaxed round. Expectations were low, so any decent shot was met with ebullient cheers. We laughed at the second hole, where the flagstick was frozen into the ice-filled hole. If you could get it unstuck, it would look like a popsicle.

Many bunkers were still full of snow, and the water hazards were iced over enough that the geese could walk over them. In the end, I made only one par and bogeyed most. But I putted better than I thought I would. I drove okay, except for a two-hole slump on the back nine. I was exhausted, but in a good way. Can't wait to get out there and try again.

Scenes from the First Round of a New Year

January is over and I only golfed once the whole month. It's been cold and snowy where I live, so the courses have been mostly closed. In early January there was a day where the temps were in the low 50s and the snow had melted enough for play. So I called up my trusty golf pal Seri and we hit the links. I walked and Seri rode, but it was cart path only so she ended up doing more walking than me.

We played winter rules, which meant unlimited mulligans, and lift, clean and place the ball pretty much anywhere you want. The ground was either hard as a rock or wet as a sponge. Bunkers were often filled with snow or melted ice. Somehow, I ended up in a lot of them, but usually had a decent enough stance to get out.

On a par 3, my attempt to chip on was stymied by blocks of snow. These are movable obstructions, but still, I bogeyed.

My shoes got plenty muddy, and so did my bright pink corduroys.

I shot a 97, not counting losing 6 balls in the water at various holes. But it was a wonderful round, a breath of fresh golfy air after weeks of being cooped up in the house, slogging away at the various things I do to make a living. It's nice to get work done in the off-season. But I can't wait for the next time the golf gods part the grey clouds and let us golf addicts get another winter fix.

Golf Resolutions for 2014

It's that time of year when I reflect on last year's golf goals and set new ones for the upcoming year.

How did I do on last year's resolutions?
Resolution #1: Get longer. I wanted to average 200, but after a back spasm in the spring and shedding a few pounds, I actually lost yardage. All summer long, I was only batting aound 170-180, though this seemed to pick up in the fall, thanks to taking up core-strengthening pilates.  
Resolution #2: Enter a hole-in-one million-dollar shootout contest. Still haven't been able to find one, but perhaps this year I will.
Resolution #3: Break 80. Not even close! Sorry to say, but I did not even break 90 once this whole past year. I did manage to score in the mid 90s most of the time though.
Resolution #4: Join a women’s league. Again, didn't do it. However, I did meet a defector from one of the local ladies leagues, and judging from some of her war stories, it sounds like perhaps I shouldn't want to join a women's league after all. 
Resolution #5: Play another bucket list course. Yes, finally a resolution that I achieved, Hubby and I played Torrey Pine North Course and South Course this past year, in addition to some other lovely courses.

So I fulfilled only 1 out of 5 resolutions. That sucks. Maybe it's time for me to set more realistic resolutions. If at first you don't succeed, lower your standards!

Here's my new list of resolutions for 2014:

Resolution #1: Stop obsessing about getting longer. If there's anything I should have learned by now, longer drives do not necessarily translate into lower scores. In fact, the defector from the ladies league only drives about 160 but consistently breaks 90. Part of this is due to her dead-on approach shots and one-putting. I need to stop chasing yardage and start working on my short game.
Resolution #2: Enter a hole-in-one million-dollar shootout contest. If one comes along, I will go for it, but it might be a better bet to just buy a lottery ticket.
Resolution #3: Break 80 (or at least break 90 again). I am keeping this resolution on the list since scoring low is always the goal. I broke 90 once before, and I know I can do it again. Here's hoping to breaking 80 too.
Resolution #4: Make new golf buddies. Golf buddies are literally fair-weather friends, so it's nice to have a lot of them in case someone can't make the tee time. However, I would also like to be able to play alone more often.
Resolution #5: Play another bucket list course. I believe this is doable since there are so many once-in-a-lifetime courses to play in the world. The only question is where to go next. And since I just bought my hubby a new Bushnell range-finder for Christmas, I am sure he's as anxious as me to hop a plane to a sunny fairway. It might be a month or two till our work schedules allow it, but in the meantime maybe a warm winter day will come along so I can get started on my other golf resolutions!

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...