The Best In Golf » Drives

The Best Drives In Golf Part IV

thebestingolf — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 00:23:00 +0000

Flipping around the TV aimlessly last Sunday because of 110 + degree heat outside, I came across the Jeld-Wen Tradition.

Apparently “Tradition” means anything over a year old, whether a golf tournament or a golf course…the greatest example of all is “Old Memorial” opened all the way back in 1998…but I digress.

Somehow the Jeld-Wen is is a major…the winner gets a swell trophy and a bunch of cash…but the kicker is an 8 X 8 bay window for their sun porch.

But alas that’s not the point of my post today. The resort and the area the Tradition is being held…Sunriver in Bend, Oregon is.

As no one really cares, sans my Mother, sainted woman, I used to be a honcho at a major monthly golf publication…my title was Vice President of Resort & Travel. What this meant is I spent 5 years as that tired sap in First Class sitting next to another tired sap in First Class trying to get home from a week in Phoenix, or was it Florida, or was it Hawaii?

Honestly they all looked the same..and only the post-911 crowd would understand…travel is not glamorous…in fact, it sucks.

But I really digress…

The site of the Jeld “When Will this Get Exciting” Classic is Sunriver Resort in Bend Oregon. Sunriver sits in the high desert tucked in close to the Cascades. incredible beauty all around…Mount Bachelor, The Descutes River full of trout, and several world class golf courses, Crosswater the star of the bunch.

What in the world does this have to do with Best Drives In Golf? I’m getting to that, just relax.

My pal Noel Lucky covers Oregon among other important customers. She’s been going to the Beaver State since before the Spotted Owl messed up the entire economy…don’t get me wrong, I like owls, but throwing a state out of work seems slightly excessive to me.

The highlight of my year, and I think Noel knows this, was my annual to Oregon. Lucky for me, Bandon Dunes opened in this period, so three trips there are still burned in my memory. But the Best Drive In golf Part IV happened by accident.

We stared in Portland, a nice enough town if you have really good Gore-Tex. From there we headed for Bandon Dunes, then up across the Cascades to Bend. Finally here is where a Best Drive in Golf happened.

To get to Bend and Sunriver you can fly from Bandon Dunes via North Bend to Redmond, but as we learned this is not the way to do it…driving is the way…longer but when you are surrounded by rivers and 200 foot pine trees who really cares?

We left Bandon in the early afternoon and were in Eugene for a corn dog and diet Snapple. As we left Eugene the country changes dramatically. It honestly looks like a Lexus commercial for he next 150 miles. Wet roads winding through forests, rivers running along the highway the entire time…funky little stores, including a Christmas store open every day of the year showing the way.

Up over the Cascades and into Bend…if you have the time, take it. Fly into Bandon for the best golf experience imaginable…more details coming in TravelBlog Oregon…drive up to Bend and Sunriver, equally great…and the drive is, without a doubt, The Best In Golf.

The Best Drives in Golf Part II

thebestingolf — Sat, 17 Mar 2007 22:36:00 +0000

The mountains of western Virginia hold two of the most famous resorts in the world…I’m talking about The Greenbrier, and less than an hour away…10 minutes if you happen to be a crow…lies The Homestead.

Depending on the direction you are traveling, the drive in can range from sublime (from Charlottesville and the east) to malodorous (from Covington and the south). Once you pass the paper plant thouhg the latter offers you a drive that still gives me goosebumps just sitting here typing this. More on that in a minute.

A young colonel in the Colonial Army spent some time in these parts surveying the land around the resort…finding out just what the far west was about so he could report back to the King.

The father of our country may also have been thinking just how beautiful the state of Virginia was…that is when, thanks to him, it would become a state instead of a colony a couple decades later.

The Homestead has been welcoming guests since 1766. It was built to take advantage of the hot springs that pop up here and there in this section of the Shenendoah Valley.

In fact you can take a 10 minute ride up to the Jefferson Pools…two round wood structures in desperate need of some paint looking like a good breeze could knock them into history…after 225 years that’s probably a bit unlikely though so go for it.

You walk in and hang your clothes on a hook…there are separate houses for boys and girls…and jump into water that doesn’t smell particularly good, a little like Covington in fact. I’m not sure why but you just float in the water…maybe it’s the minerals.

On my first trip I noticed a door in the water on the perimeter of the pool. I asked the attendant (Gene) what it was and he told me to get out and he’d show me…we walked down a wet hallway until there was a flat rock seat against the outside wall of the pool. Next to the seat, about head high, were two ropes, one on each side. I sat down and surmised that the function of the ropes were to hold on to.

When I got situated on the rock, with it’s indentations in the perfect shape of butt cheeks Gene told me “hold on now!” so I did.

He pulled the door up and the water from the pool came rushing in beating the absolute shit out of my back…it was heaven!

As I was sitting there I couldn’t help but think that my ass was in the same place as several of the Founding Fathers…all there for the same reason…to have Gene lift up the door on this 18th century jacuzzi.

But as you drive up from Roanoke, about 45 minutes from the resort, the world starts to change…you’re going back in time…pastures, horses, winding mountain roads changing from sun to shade.

Then Sam Snead’s house and small family graveyard off to your left. You can almost see him running through these hills barefooted, probably with his dog not far behind.

There’s one place where you come around a curve and in front of you is the 4th hole at The Cascades…I don’t claim to have played a ton of mountain golf but for my money, The Cascades is the finest example we have.

The last time I was there was with my partner, Blair Leburn. We were on a week long road trip covering parts of western North Carolina and Virginia.

About a mile from the spot I told him how beautiful I thought this one place was in the road…and when we got there he knew just what I meant.

I can’t tell you why or what makes this place so special…it’s like the golf course has it’s own personal shade of green.

It’s like no other place in golf.

The Best Drives in Golf Part I

thebestingolf — Sun, 04 Mar 2007 14:32:00 +0000

I only know a few, but some of the drives I’ve been on are extraordinary.

I’m talking about roads and sometimes driveways. The place you find yourself at the end of a journey…where a great golf experience awaits…or at least the anticipation of one.

To make my list, and it is only my list, a drive in has to be a place I love and have great memories of…this would exclude some very pretty places, which while beautiful, just don’t evoke any emotion.

Here’s an example. The entrance to Belfair (above) in Hilton Head is awesome, in the correct useage of the word. It consists of a small guardhouse followed by a lane of Live Oaks that must be 300-500 years old. Amazing in their beauty and elegance.

enough about what’s not on the list, here’s one that is, and why:

Magnolia Lane- my friend Bob Dillon in Chicago took me to Augusta National one December many years and many pounds ago…my driver was a Big Bertha (not a Great Big Bertha) and my ball was a Revolution…coming into focus?

The story goes like this. I was in Myrtle Beach for the week when I called back to the office for messages. There were several voicemails in my inbox including one from Bob…when I heard his voice I skipped to the next message…sure he was just calling to check in.

As I’m sure you have done on a Monday with a long week ahead, I prioritized my messages and thought I’d just call him back when I was back in the office at the end of the week.

Well I almost “prioritized” my way out of two days at ANGC!

Upon my return to the office Friday morning I went back through some old voicemails including Bob’s. In a nutshell it was an invite to Augusta National.

I had been going to The Masters literally since birth but had never seen Augusta National as what it is…a golf club. And for all the years I could remember it was on my Life To Do List.

For anyone reading this who has been there to play golf, you remember where you were, what day of the week it was, if it was sunny or rainy when you got “the call”…don’t you? I know I do.

Luckily for me Bob goes to work at dark-thirty ( Chicago time) so when I called he answered on the first ring.

“Bob Dillon”, he said.

“Bob, it’s Rick” I responded with fear and loathing, wondering Am I in? Am I out?

Holy Shit! Surely he replaced me with someone else by now…someone who felt like a call with an invitation to the home of The Masters, Bobby Jones, and all things deep-fried was worth returning.

A long pause ensued.

“I thought you died” is all he said.

Brilliant! If I had left someone a message inviting them to the holiest of holys and he didn’t respond in the next five minutes, I would have called 911, the city morgue, or The Betty Ford to see if my friend was in residence…and this was a week later!

In the end we played…Bob and pal Greg Glyman flew into Bush Field in a plane Greg had chartered for a fast getaway back to Chicago…you see his wife was a week past 9 months pregnant, but that’s another story for another day.

When we pulled up Magnolia Lane in my sassy new Nissan Altima (or Al-Teema) as I used to call it, the security guard gave us quite a suspicious look…guess he didn’t see many Altimas with three guys in it…the one in the back with his clubs in his lap!

Our host, Ed O. Douglas (gotta love the South), came out with a big smile and handshake and after a warm “Welcome to The Augusta National” in his lovely Georgia drawl he continued…”Is that y’alls rental caaah?”

“No sir it’s mine” I muttered.

“HMMM” is all he came back with…but he let us stay anyway.

Next: The Homestead and Hwy 220