Caves Valley, September 9-11, 2005

I've had a great year in golf, played a lot of fantastic places and enjoyed some beautiful times. For almost six months I looked forward to a Fri-Sun trip with my brother Brad and ten others to Caves Valley, just outside Baltimore in Owings Mills, MD.

Brad's a member, and he invited six of us "Carolina boys" to play with - but not against - Ed Crenshaw and five of his Florida and Lone Palm friends.

What makes for a great golf outing? I believe there are three essential ingredients:
- You need a great venue, and Caves Valley is certainly that. We stayed "on campus" in a couple of clubhouse rooms and one of the cottages. The golf course isn't in very good condition, a victim of the blight that has struck so much of the Middle Atlantic and Northeast areas. But the operation at Caves more than makes up for a merely average course condition.
- You want a good bunch of guys, a group that can get along well and enjoy each other's company. This crowd, from two different parts of the country but held together by an appreciation for the game, showed affection for one another and rapier-like jabs too. A good combination.
- You need a good competition, fair but challenging. Brother Brad is especially good at setting up - and keeping up with - this element, and we had a number of winners. Brad likes a modified Stableford system, one that rewards birdies and, especially, eagles. It's probably not the fairest system when there are higher handicappers, but our group this time had some pretty low handicaps - the highest was 11 - so it turned out pretty well.

We didn't play as much golf as this group of guys used to. There was a time when 36 a day was normal. Now most of the group plays 18 holes, then heads off to a gin table or a nap. And there aren't many occasions to find them on the practice tee. I shot this early Sunday morning.

Believe it or not, this was my last trip for a good long time, and I'm ready to settle down for a bit.

Cypress Point - August 30, 2005

Kirk Davis wasn't the first to tell me his favorite course is Cypress Point. But he was perhaps the most persuasive. Shot for shot, hole for hole, it's spectacular.

We started on the fourth hole in order to get ahead of a group of 20 older gents having a kind of member and guest outing. It's a slight dogleg left, not very long, and I put a drive in play only 150 yards out. My 7-iron ended up just below the hole, and my birdie putt - 10 feet, up the hill, breaking left to right - lipped out.

What's the big deal, you might ask?

Well, the tee shot was slightly uphill, and the landing area was maybe 25 yards. Miss it left or right and you find a bunker, one that probably would have required a pitch-out. And the green, like almost all of Cypress Point's greens, slopes aggressively from back to front. You really want to limit the times you're putting from above the hole, believe me.

The fact is, for fourteen holes Cypress Point is a subtle, wonderful architectural treasure. Hit the right shots, and you'll have a few good scoring opportunities. The others - namely, 15 through 18 - are four of the most beautiful golf holes I'll likely ever see. They weren't designed; they were carved out of the most magnificent topography on earth.

Fifteen is a short (135 yards from the back tee) par 3. The green has three peninsular areas, and I'm sure the pin is always in one of them, making the effective hitting area decidedly small.

Here's Darryl Leech lunging at a 9-iron.

Sixteen is the hole everyone talks about, another par 3, but this one is 218 yards. You have to try to hit, the caddies say; you can't bail left and play for four (though they say Hogan always did just that). But you're hitting over a spectacular formation of rocks and breaking waves.

Seventeen is a classic par 4, if by "classic" you mean beautiful, majestic, and tough as can be. It's only 386 yards, and I hit driver and wedge. But my wedge shot was 108 yards, under a limb, needing to draw about 20 yards to miss the surf and a bunker. (Got it up and down from the rough behind the green.)

And eighteen, though not over the Pacific or an inlet or any water at all, may be the best hole of all. Your drive is a blind shot - you can't see any fairway at all, only trees. "Hit it over that round-top tree, my caddie said." Which I did. Perfect. So all I needed to do now was hit a little 9-iron around another tree, which was hanging over the green, drawing it about 15 yards. That's a lot of complexity for a 343-yard hole.

Kirk said Cypress Point Club is where he would like to play every day. Not close.

I get it, Kirk. If you ever need another to play with, I'm there.