Bandon Dunes: Rounds 27 - 29

I'm behind on updating the rounds, but below is the account of Oregon. Still, I've got 4 more rounds to add and limited time. Hopefully, they'll be up soon. Until that time, enjoy. Start from the bottom and work your way up.

Round #29 – Bandon Dunes

Our final round at Bandon Dunes was to be played on the marquis course at the resort. Bandon Dunes, like Pacific Dunes, twists its way along the Oregon coastline amongst thick gorse, crashing waves, hard packed fairways and greens, and windswept dunes. Bill and Brian accepted our bags at the entranceway and shuffled them to the first tee. After straightening out a slight payment snafu with the caddy manager, we trotted to the course to begin our round. At the first hole, we met our playing partner for the morning, a woman named Gail from Seattle. Staci informed us that there was an empty space in front of and behind us, so we had plenty of time to complete our round. This would prove to be necessary, as Gail boasted the longest pre-shot routine in golf’s history.

Experiencing her preparation to hit the ball was witnessing an execution – painful to look at yet impossible to turn away. It began with ball and tee in hand and a search for level teeing ground, 5 seconds. She sinks the tee into the ground, 3 seconds, steadies the ball on the tee, 3 seconds. Two slow deliberate practice swings follow, 8 seconds. She moves behind the ball facing her target and searches for a line, 6 seconds. Another practice swing, 4 seconds. She walks to the side of her target arriving at her preliminary position, club grounded next to the ball and feet together, 4 seconds. Pause for a moment, 2 seconds. A small step to the left with the left foot followed by the right with the right foot brings her into hitting position, 4 seconds. Now the waggles begin. She lifts the head of her club above the ball and carves a long measured line above the ball with the head of her club once, 2 seconds. Again, only slightly shorter this time, 2 seconds. One last waggle extends on a line smaller than the previous 2 but evident nonetheless, 2 seconds. She grounds her club again and pauses, 6 seconds. Flexes her knees, 3 seconds. Pauses again, 2 seconds. And finally, pulls the trigger, 2 seconds. For those of you keeping track at home, that’s 60 seconds - a full minute of agony her playing partners have to endure before every shot. In her defense, normally she would make great contact when executing her routine. But her deliberate play slowed us down, and the 3-some 2 groups behind caught us at the 14^th hole. For possibly the first moment of my golfing life, I witnessed the group that I was in creating the logjam – the proverbial butterfly flapping its wings which would eventually turn into a tempest.

Pace of play issues aside, I began playing some fairly decent golf. Finally I was making contact in the middle of the clubface and getting the ball off the ground again. I was excited about the prospect of scoring well if I could avoid big numbers. Turns out, I played 15 holes well, but played the last 3 holes at 8 over par – defeating any chance of a low score. I was lucky to escape this round with a score of 89, but disappointed at my play. My father was exhausted from the 7 rounds he played previously. His fatigue caught and overtook him this morning, leaving him a score of 106. It was a bittersweet finish both in result and emotion, as this would be the last round my father and I would play together on the “West Coast Swing.”

Today’s Course: Bandon Dunes
Score: 90
Handicap: 11.1
Overnight Location: Seattle, WA
Tomorrow’s Course: None
Tomorrow’s Overnight Location: Seattle, WA

The Sheep Ranch…Continued

I called Bandon Discount Golf after hitting my tee shot on the 3^rd hole at Bandon Dunes. Steve answered and I launched into a discussion of the Sheep Ranch. He told me he would make the call to the owner and call me back at 11. Gleefully, I hung up and continued with the round. The day seemed perfect, with blue skies and fluffy clouds overhead. Bill had said something the day before which stayed in the back of my mind, “if you want don’t like the weather in Bandon, stick around for 15 minutes – it will change. Eleven o’clock neared and the heavier, darker clouds began to cycle into Bandon from the south. The clock turned 11:45 with no word from Steve. I decided to preempt his call with one of my own. Steve said that he was still waiting to hear from the maintenance man at the Sheep Ranch and he would call me when he received word. Our round ended with no call. We shook hands with Bill and Brian on the 18^th green knowing we would not need their services for the afternoon since the Sheep Ranch was no longer an option. The mythical golfer’s playground was to remain a mystery cloaked in rumor and tall tales. Perhaps our unsuccessful brush with the Sheep Ranch was for the best as rain in the afternoon was unavoidable, and my father and I still had 8 hours of road ahead.

Round #28 – Bandon Trails

After finishing up our round, my father and I had an hour before our tee time at Bandon Trails. Luckily, the weather held all morning but the dark clouds looked foreboding for the afternoon. Because I didn’t fell I hit the ball well in the morning round, after scarfing down a BBQ sandwich, I snuck to the range to try and straighten my swing out before teeing off. Bill and Brian met us at the bad drop of Bandon Trails, I checked in and we headed to the first tee. The rain began while we were on the first fairway and did not let up until we were seated inside at dinner 6 hours later. The course varies greatly from the others at Bandon. The first hole offers a view of the ocean but once completed, the course takes a turn into dense pines and open meadows. We were paired with Don and Bill, two friends who played earlier in the day and twice each day the 3 previous days. Their caddy Brad was a whirlwind of dead on club selections, sarcastic insight, quick reads on the greens, and trash talk after poor shots.

Our golf was less than spectacular which I will blame solely on the weather. One bright moment occurred in the midst of the afternoon rain – I hit one of the greatest shots of my career so far. My tee shot came to rest in a fairway bunker on the 11^th hole (pictured at right) 205 yards from the pin. The 4 iron I hit was pure. The ball climbed quickly while moving toward the left edge of the green. It began to descend and move right, back towards the center of the green and the pin. On impact just short of the green the ball caromed forward on a line to the flagstick and came to rest 2 ½ feet from the pole. I missed the birdie putt.

Aside from 3 awfully played holes with large scores, my round went well and I hit the ball solidly. This was not reflected in my score as I ended the day with a 90. I was extremely impressed aside from a few quirky holes and greens. Playing Bandon Dunes the next day would complete the trilogy.

Afternoon’s Course: Bandon Trails
Score: 93
Handicap: 11
Overnight Location: Bandon, Oregon
Tomorrow’s Course: Bandon Dunes
Tomorrow’s Overnight Location: Seattle, WA

Round #27 – Pacific Dunes

The rain began to fall the moment we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. Our 8 hour journey to Bandon, Oregon in an instant turned into 11. My father and I filled the gaps in conversation during the trip with bits of comedy siphoned from the Sirius Satellite radio I had installed this past January. Howard Stern was the primary reason for the installation but I quickly found just how cosmopolitan and entertaining the service truly is. The path to Bandon was mostly Interstate until the last 30 miles when the road narrowed to 1 lane and began switching back and forth while snaking its way westward. I detected my father’s alarm at my aggressive handling of the Envoy by his nervous laughter at the Jerry Seinfeld routine playing over my iPod.

We arrived at Bandon Inn, our place of residence for the next 2 nights, at 11:30, checked in, retired to the room, and went quickly to sleep. The next morning we awoke early with a feeling of disorientation and surprise – the feeling one gets with arriving in an unfamiliar town after dark only to see it differently the next morning in daylight. After taking the extremely helpful desk staff up on their suggestion of dining at The Station for breakfast, we were on our way to the course. Today we were scheduled for 2 rounds, 36 holes of golf eerily similar to that found on the British Isles, conveniently located on the Oregon coastline. I had taken the liberty of reserving caddies for our rounds when they during booking, knowing it would be difficult for my father to walk the roughly 12 miles necessary to complete both loops. We met our caddies at the proshop. Bill, a large man with a kind smile and cunning wit was to be my caddy. Brian, smaller in stature but with an equally gracious demeanor, was to carry my father’s bag. On the first tee we met our 3^rd for the morning, a congenial man named Steve who just so happened to own the only golf merchandise shop in town.

Steve turned out to be a player, sporting a 3 handicap but not playing to it this morning. He, along with our caddies, proved to be bastions of local knowledge on the intricacies of the links style layout. However good their information, it still did not keep my father or me from donating several balls to gorgeous the landscape. The Oregon coastline is filled with a beautiful yet viscous plant called gorse. The yellow flowering bush in the pictures is the gorse – don’t be fooled by its beauty, each flower is attached to a long vine spiked with thorns.It has an insatiable appetite for golf balls and rarely will a ball be returned to its original owner should it enter the gorse. It makes for a gorgeous natural barrier between fairways and frames the golf holes magnificently.

My father’s legs seemed fresh as he transferred the burden of his bag to a younger set of shoulders. This was my main concern today, my father’s stamina and his ability to walk all 36 holes. He was hampered only by his own golf game, taking an exhausting 106 swings to complete his round at Pacific Dunes. My score of 93 was not much better but my younger legs could withstand the abuse. After a quick bite to eat, it was off to Bandon Trails for the afternoon round.

Morning Course: Pacific Dunes
Score: 90
Handicap: 11
Afternoon Course: Bandon Trails
Overnight Location: Bandon, Oregon

The Sheep Ranch

At the 8^th hole of Pacific Dunes, I queried my caddy as to the whereabouts of the elusive Sheep Ranch. The Sheep Ranch is the golf equivalent of Keiser Soze - for those familiar with the film The Usual Suspects. It supposedly exists on a plot of land north of the Bandon Dunes resort – but only a fortunate few can confirm its existence.

The legend surrounding the course is shrouded in mystery. Apparently one of the developers of Bandon Dunes had a college roommate who was offered equity into the resort when it was in the planning stages. The roommate dragged his feet, was non committal to the other partners, and watched as word began to spread about the 3 quality courses in the middle of nowhere on the Oregon coastline and the resort became a success. Realizing his friend had missed a huge financial windfall and feeling sorry for him, one partner offered a tract of land to the roommate. The roommate decided he would create and maintain a course of his own on the land – just north of Pacific Dunes. Due more in part to his own lethargy, the course was never opened to the public – but it did not turn private either. It remained in an odd state of golf limbo - if you know the owner or know someone who does, you can play.

Locals call it Area 51. Bill, Brian, and the starter named Staci acknowledged its existence, but could offer no additional information. Apparently, if you are lucky enough to get on, and luckier still to find the place, you will be met by a blue pickup truck owned by the head of maintenance. He will collect the obligatory greens fee and leave you to explore the golf playground yourself. Rumors describe the Sheep Ranch as golf as it used to be – players stumbling upon a teeing ground, pointing to the nearest pin and firing. There is no true layout, sprinkler heads are marked to the center of nothing in particular, and par is a figure left to the player’s imagination. However informal the course is supposed to be, the experience of playing and the journey of gaining access holds the greatest allure. The Sheep Ranch is a mystery unraveled by few who find the key to this supposed kingdom.

Today, our additional playing partner held this key.

“How do I get onto the Sheep Ranch?” I asked Steve.
“Give me a call,” he replied.

On the 18^th green I asked Steve for his number so that I could call him regarding the Sheep Ranch. He produced a business card and told me to call him the next morning…