Our first round of golf in Scottsdale had us on the renowned Troon North Monument Course, the highlight of which was calling my shot on the 544-yard  par-five third hole, where a red sandstone monolith right out of 2001 A Space Odyssey except for the monkeys divides the fairway where the hole doglegs off to the right.  I discussed the shot with my playing partners– Brett Brooks , the manager of marketing communications for Troon golf; fellow Golf Road Warrior Terry Moore; and PR wizard Jerry Rose, of Communication Links.  They seemed to take pleasure in my indecision as I tried to guess whether I was going to hit a low-running draw that would skirt the rock on the left, or a cut shot that would track toward the rock and then swerve in the direction of the hole just before impact.

Deep down, I figured  that whichever shot I decided upon I’d probably hit the monolith and end up with an unplayable lie at the base anyway.  But I muttered something about going with the fade and stepped up and hit about the best tee shot I’ve launched since Sputnik.  It left me with 230 to the green and perhaps for the first time since the invention of the cell phone I hit my second shot OVER the green on a par five, chipped close, and walked away with a clean, easy birdie.

None of which has anything to do with cigars, but did you expect me NOT to tell that story?  My front nine score of 40 inspired me to pull a stogie out of the bag.  I opted for Certifresh’s  Oliva Series V Torpedo, singly packaged with a photo of the Monument Course.  It’s a rich, deep, mahogany beauty from Nicaragua dressed in a Habano sun-grown wrapper, oily and nutty, with a clean, cedary freshness to it and hints of coffee, chocolate, and other delicious flavors.  The shapely torpedo exudes an air of power even before you fire it up, and mine burned like a champ, retaining its ash even after I set it down on tee blocks and greens to hit a few more no-less suprisingly good shots.

While I got a bit of a nicotine lift early on it leveled out and proved a calming cigar that accompanied me like a good caddie, not speaking much but there when I needed it.  A strong cigar can sometimes send my short game and putting packing, but the Oliva was a steadying influence.  Was it a good match for the day– a crispish sunny afternoon with a nip of Arizona winter in the air?  Well, I shot 40 on the back nine with a double on 18 that I can’t blame on my devoted Nicaraguan friend.

For me, it’s easier to picture dinosaurs roaming the earth than to imagine that just 25 years ago, even seasoned travelers actually lugged wheel-less suitcases through airports.  But just as  sea-dwelling creatures eventually evolved onto land, so too did luggage develop wheels.  Say happy 25th birthday to Travelpro’s Rollaboard, the suitcase that marked a Darwinian leap forward for travelers across the planet.

It began with Northwest Airlines pilot Robert Plath, who first changed the physical orientation of luggage from horizontal to vertical, added wheels and an extension handle, and brought man forward and out into the light.

Plath eventually began piloting the new company know as Travelpro and providing Rollaboard pieces to airline flight crews and pilots.  The early adaptors took to the product with such fierce dedication that Travelpro launched the product commerically through retail stores in the mid 1990s.  Inc. Magazine recently ranked the Rollaboard as one of the top innovations in modern history.

Plath didn’t invent the wheel: he just figured out one of the best possible ways to use it.  And just like a good pilot, the product took off from there.

This in the parking lot of We Ko Pa Golf Club, one of the best courses we played on the recent Golf Road Warriors (GRW) trip to Scottsdale.  I’m posing with my 28-inch T-Pro Bold Expandable Rollaboard, which is ready for action as I head for Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport directly from the golf course parking lot.

We Ko Pa was a perfect last hurrah as Peter Kessler and GRW videographer Jamie McWilliams joined me on a crisp morning with fog rising off the golf holes when we arrived just before nine.  The others left early providing me with the first peace and quiet I’d had during an over-stuffed trip full of great golf, terrific lodgings, belt-tightening meals, superior cigars, and more.  I played the last three holes alone in the warming afternoon, enjoying the spaciousness of the surrounding desert and views of the Verde and Salt River Valleys and the Superstition Mountains, communing with a few saguaros and an inquisitive coyote who watched one of my tee shots in amazement, as if to ask: you actually hit one straight now that nobody’s watching?

The Cholla Course at We Ko Pa, designed by Scott Miller, plays out into a desert wilderness that stirs the spirit and challenges the golf senses with a series of thre- four- and five-shot puzzles that require concise decision making: when to attempt a carry over the desert, and how much to bite off; whether to lay up in front of well-protected greens or to carry a few hazards in an attempt to arrive earlier.  The holes are all well-considered and challenging without being cruel.  The rhythm of holes is well-balanced and the scenery pristine, with no housing to mar the backcountry experience– just a cozy clubhouse  inspired by local Yavapai Native culture and built with sloped entry walls and a wood-beam entryway to create a natural, embracing, canyon-like feel.

The elves asked us to tell you that Santa never liked your cookies, anyway.

Actually, the problem extends to many pro shops, which are happy to stock a humidor on the counter but not always as happy to remember to put water in it to keep the cigars fresh.

Enter our friends from Certifresh, who have begun packaging some of the best smokes available anywhere in sealed little cigar condos complete with mini humidifiers.  The cigars stay cozy and moist for up to a year, so if you buy a dozen and stash them in your golf bag, your office, you car, your gym bag, or wherever, as long as you come back to them within a year they’ll still be in perfect smoking shape.

And if you’re a golf pro or a tournament organizer, Certifresh can package each stick– or a pack of four– with a logo, photo, card, or other branding.  In fact, they don’t generally sell directly to the public unless you’re hosting a large golf event, so make sure to ask your local pro to begin stocking them.

We’ve been smoking Certifreshes all of this week in Scottsdale.  Pictured above is beloved beer and golf writer Tom Bedell on our outing this morning with Desert Wolf Tours, who allowed us to drive crazy off-road vehicles on a remote desert trail that crossed streambeds and climbed mesas and took us past ancient ruins and a turquoise mine.  More on this adventure coming in another post.

The cigar smoker’s highlight of the tour was watching Bedell seize an unusual opportunity: our guides were preparing a piece of strawberry cactus for us to taste, and to get it ready they had to burn the spines off.  The moment a flame appeared, so did Bedell, with Certifresh in hand.

We recommend against trying this at home.

While we’re on the subject of cigar-smoking golf journalists, here’s a shot of Peter Kessler and myself enjoying a Certifresh stogie at the Boulders Resort’s south course this afternoon.

Today during an afternoon round at The Boulders South Course, playing a nine-hole skins game which he failed to win with a four-footer worth $32, we discovered they’d already named a golf hole after “the voice of golf.”

Front nine leaderboard at Troon North Monument Course. Check out El Jefe (but ignore 9th hole)!

I am not a golfer who thinks that rangefinders are a good idea, or who enters my greens-in- regulations and putts-per-hole into a phone application.  In fact, I usually leave my phone in the car during golf rounds.

But this week, during the epic Golf Road Warriors siege of Scottsdale, we agreed to use a scoring app provided by Grow the Game Golf, which recently debuted real-time leaderboard scoring and other features.

Today we took on Troon North’s highly regarded Monument Course, a Tom Weiskopf design that includes several enticing driveable par fours, great short holes, a few carries over desert flora and fauna, and an overall aesthetic that defined great desert golf when it was first built.

We had two foursomes, and one player in each group entered all scores on the app.  As the day progressed, we were able to track our progress against the other group in a one-best-ball competition, and I was able to keep a close eye on my golf nemesis, Peter Kessler, in the match we were playing, despite the fact that we were in different foursomes.  The Grow the Game Golf app allowed for gross and net leaderboard watching of all players and teams in our little group.  And I took great pleasure in knowing that each time I made a par, Kessler, in the group behind me, was watching my score on his phone and cursing his luck and generally wondering how I was able to post an 80 on such a difficult course.  The beauty of the app is that it lets the golf do the talking for you, if you’re playing well, and you can enjoy the fact that everyone else in your party– whether there’s ten or one hundred– will know when you eagle #15 as my partner Terry Moore did today, or you knock down four 4s in a row, as I did to start the back nine this afternoon.

The app also keeps track of all players’ net and gross scores in addition to specific games you might be playing.  Future versions may even allow you to trash talk to the group behind you when they look at their phones to see how you’re doing.  And what, really, could be better than that?

I took the class this afternoon with fellow Golf Road Warrior Tom Bedell, who grunted his way through the poses in a way that led me to keep my Iphone close at hand in case we needed to call 911.

Having taken my share of yoga classes in the past I was impressed by Dodie’s ability to lead us through traditional poses such as standing pigeon, warrior, plank, and others, and explain concisely which golf muscles they stretched and how those muscles are engaged in the the complex motion we know as the golf swing.

And she managed to do it in a relaxed, non-pressured environment that pushed us just enough to understand how much we could improve our range of motion, without causing much any more pain than you might feel after shanking a pitch shot.  With a personality as easy and fluid as her poses, Mazzuca makes a strong case for combining strength and flexibility to improve your game.

I can only wonder how much better I might have played if I’d taken the class before golfing Troon North’s Monument Course this afternoon.  We’re hoping Dodie is going to join the warriors later this week for a round of golf and we look forward to her company.  In the meantime, we’ll be practicing a little downward dog and child’s pose in the hopes of hitting a few more fairways and draining a few more putts.

Here’s a quick view of a few things that awaited the warriors upon arrival . . .

Pillow Treat, Golf Road Warriors Style.

Nightcap courtesy of our friends at the Four Seasons . . .

Just getting started: socks, underwear, shorts, golf shirts.

As a professional travel writer I’m supposed to be cat-like in my stealthiness, moving through the world with nothing bigger than a Ziplock bag to hold a week’s worth of clothing, toiletries, electronics, reading material, and enough Ibuprofen to numb a pack horse.  But the fact is– as I’ve learned from my many trips to Bandon Dunes for warrior-like golf outings– that the guy who’s most prepared for a trip, usually performs best on the golf course.  So at Bandon, carrying three separate rain suits, as well as a variety of under-layers, golf shirts, and fleeces, has always paid off.

Packing for a week of golf in Scottsdale would appear simple until you check the weather forecast and discover that hot, sunny days await, but so do crisp winter nights.  Temps are expected to swing from mid-seventies in the afternoons to mid-forties after dark.  And since we’re already paying the airlines for the privilege of actually taking belongings with us on trips these days, we might as well push those bags to their weight limits.

I start with the essentials of my itinerary: six days, eight rounds of golf, three formal dinners, a moonlight bike ride, yoga and fitness classes, massages, some crazy desert adventure involving driving SUVs and shooting firearms.

So, three pairs of shorts each to be worn twice each, plus an extra pair that doubles as a bathing suit.  And the rain pants I chose for this trip have unzippable legs that turns them into another pair of shorts.  Six golf shirts– one for each day.  Three with stripes, three solid, to be mixed and matched with shorts.  A casual ox blood belt that looks great with any color or pattern.  Six pairs golf socks.  Dark hat (from Ballyliffin Golf Club), light hat (from Bandon Dunes).  Funky old-school cap from Puerto Rico’s Royal Isabella.  Seven pairs underwear, because you never know (one pair goes in carry-on bag).

Two wind shirts that double as sweaters in the evenings, and one fleece, plus two sets of Smartwool under-layers and one pair of long underwear for cold mornings and/or biking and yoga.

Two pairs shoes, one brown, one black.  And a pair of Keen’s for wearing with shorts, biking, desert wildness, etc.  Another belt for evenings.

Jeans and sport coat for plane, making up-grade more likely due to respectability factor.  Three slacks for evenings, one more casual pair for golf on cold day.

Three dress shirts, two short-sleeve shirts to go under wind shirt/sweaters for evenings.

No friggin’ tie!  We’re not going to be dining at the Royal and Ancient clubhouse.

Sleeping outfit.

And then all the electronic paraphernalia, from Iphone and accompanying chargers and cords; digital camera; laptop; notebook and pens; reading materials.  Crucial documents.  Stack of business cards.  That sort of stuff.

Toiletries– with enough varieties of drugs to fight anything from scurvy to anthrax, earplugs in case screaming kids (or adults) live next door.

Squeeze it all into two of Travelpro’s newest and best suitcases– one for checking, one for carrying on, and I’m good to go.

I’m comforted to know that most hotels will have a toothbrush at the front desk.

I start with golf shoes  (two pair, one white, one black); golf towel (I’m going with a brand new Sunriver towel in a rich blue that matches my golf bag); a dozen golf balls (Callaway); two fabulous Herzl golf gloves; my new Callaway Razr X set with Odyssey putter; tee bag from Castle Stewart (a nice plaid); cigar carrier and cutter and lighter to use on the box of sticks waiting for me at The Four Seasons Scottsdale care of our friends at Certifresh cigars; band-aids, allergy pills, marking pen; rain gear (Nike’s Storm Fit tops and bottoms and a Goretex bucket hat from Chambers Bay Golf Course).  I think that’s about it

I’ll pack it all in my Club Glove golf travel cover with the towel wrapped around the heads, headcovers on, and rain-cover employed, as well.  The best part of taking the golf travel bag– despite the $25 fee for an additional bag– is that I can fill it with laundry, gifts, and other items on the way home.

One word: Scottsdale. Which the Robb Report once called the best place to live in the US for golf. I’ll fly business class and begin my trip with a warm-up round on the Kierland Golf Club just because it’s fun, then make my way to a Kiva suite (outdoor shower, fireplace, plunge pool) at the Four Seasons Resort, where I’ll walk the two terrific Troon North courses at least twice or until I’m out of golf balls. I’ll eat pillow mints to make the money last longer and begin checking world-class courses off my list: We-Ko-Pa (the Saguaro course is shown above), Grayhawk, The Boulders, TPC Scottsdale, and every course with the word “desert” actually in it, including Desert Canyon, Desert Forest, Desert Highlands, and Desert Mountain. When I’ve tried all the dinner entrees at the Four Seasons’ Talavera Restaurant I’ll move to the beloved Fairmont Scottsdale Princess and squander the rest of my funds at the Willow Stream Spa. I won’t leave until my pockets are empty and security escorts me to the outer gate with a stern warning.

Excerpted from the December “A List,” available at The A Position.com.  See how more than a dozen other writers at The A Position answered the burning question of how they’d spend $10,000 on golf.  And don’t expect to see my name on live us open golf scores listing.  It won’t be there no matter how much I spend.

Here’s an ironic fact: the players who can successfully pull off these shots are also the least likely to need them.  Sure, I can bury an approach in the sand, trickle my tee shot into a shallow creek, or spray a long iron into dense shrubbery.  But once I get there, I’m the guy who might slash at the ball three times before using the Johnny Unitas wedge– which is to say throwing my ball back onto the grass.  That’s why I’ve consulted some of the West’s best golf instructors, who offer the following advice on how to hit a few of these seemingly impossible shots.

The only thing worse than having your mile-high wedge shot fall two feet short of the green and plug in a bunker (the well-known “fried egg” lie) may be to have it sail over the green and plug in the back bunker—on a downslope.  For a good visual of a golfer hitting an impossible bunker shot, consider Ernie Els’s nearly mystical escape from a bunker beside the 13th green in the final round of the 2002 British Open at Muirfield.

For guidance on how to hit a plugged, downhill bunker shot I turned to Tim Mahoney, Director of Education for Troon Golf and an instructor at Talking Stick Golf Club in Scottsdale, Arizona.  Mahoney, who is a GOLF Magazine Top 100 Teacher, offers some general advice before getting to the specifics.

“First and foremost, never hit two shots in a row from a bad lie,” he advises.  “Get back to the grass.

“Second, never attempt a miracle shot after you’ve hit a bad shot.  Take your medicine and get back in the game.

“To hit this shot you need to understand how a sand wedge works.  It’s built like a shovel, and is the only club that has bounce.  The worse a lie is the more sand you want to take with your shot.  Here, to take a lot of sand, tilt the club up by closing the face at address or leaning the shaft forward, toward your target.

“Then position your body to swing along the slope by setting your shoulders parallel to the slope.  On a downhill lie, lean left and put more weight on your lower foot.

“Finally, trust your shot.  The golf ball will fly in the direction of the slope.  And remember that there’s no rule that says you have to fire at the flag.  You can always go sideways or backward.”

Mahoney adds that this is really an easy shot—but that’s why he’s Troon Golf’s Director of Education and I’m the one who buried it downhill in the bunker to begin with.

Doug Hammer, Director of Instruction at Troon North, says, “Out here in the desert the greens are firm and fast and often elevated.  They also have false fronts with hazards and heavy bunkering to hit over, so you need to know how to hit the high, soft shot.”

When trying to launch shots likely to be approved by NASA, Hammer recommends a full swing with the ball positioned forward in your stance.  “Keep your lower body quiet.  If you slide you’ll catch the ball on an upswing.  Try to pinch the ball between the club and the turf and keep the clubface from closing, like on a cut shot.  Inside of 100 yards, take less than a full swing with a slightly weaker grip and an open stance. You want to slip the club under the ball and above the turf.  Try not to take a divot, and just brush or sweep the grass.”

The high-flier may prove especially helpful on Troon North’s Pinnacle course, where the front nine features holes with forced carries over arroyos; or on the second hole of the Monument Course, a par three of approximately 150 yards that plays to a very elevated green with bunkers positioned short and right and a big false front.  If you’re short, the ball will roll back down to where you can’t even see the hole.  Which, at least, will give you another opportunity to practice the short high shot again.

A lot of resorts– particularly those built back in the boom of the 1980s– have grown tired enough to be forced into retirement, especially with all the great new boutique properties popping up  full of eco-engineering, flat-screens t.v.s as thin as the 600-thread cotton sheets, and animatronic deer walking past your room on cue (okay, I’m making that up).

Which is what makes a visit to The Boulders Resort, north of Scottsdale, so refreshing (I mean, in addition to 36 great holes of golf, a Golden Door Spa, Four-Diamond Restaurant, and newly renovated private casitas).  Few places on this planet are just inexplicably magical.  That said, The Boulders— not coincidentally located in the town of ‘Carefree’ outside Phoenix– is the destination you hardly dared dream of.  The resort and golf courses have collected scads of awards, including the coveted Platinum Resort designation from GOLF magazine.  It is the rare property that just keeps getting better with age.

Of course, the sublime setting on 1300 acres of Sonoran desert foothills has not changed much since, well, the Mesozoic era, and it still provides the perfect atmosphere to see The Stones play– no not those stones: I’m talking about Fred and Wilma, Barney and Betty, who would have appreciated the surroundings.  While geology provides the backdrop, comfortology is the operative word in the public rooms and casitas, which blend native American crafts, the scent of mesquite from ubiquitous fireplaces positioned perfectly around the resort, and the enticing perfume of the Southwest-accented New American cuisine being created by new chef Stephen Jones at Latilla, the AAA Four-Diamond restaurant– one of six eateries on property.  Start with the grilled romaine salad with Spanish white anchovies, cotija cheese, piquillo pepper marmalade, Kalamata olives, croutons, and Mexican crema dressing.  Follow this with the venison short loin in fire-roasted poblano butter and encourage your dinner companion to order the sea scallops with roasted cauliflower, Japanese eggplant, pistachio pudding, and several other incongruously brilliant flavors, so you can steal tastes of that, as well.

After which you might want– as our host at Latilla suggested– to enjoy dessert and a glass of ice wine back at your casita while leaning back in the big leather club chairs by your own fireplace, with the patio doors open to the occasional yips of coyotes asking whether you are finished with that gingersnap crumble, and might they help?  The 160 sand-colored low-rise casitas boast 550 sq ft decorated with hand hewn wood beamed ceilings, wood burning fireplaces, decks, earth tone furnishings, glazed tile, and fresh, original artwork.  They’ve just been upgraded with new finishes  in browns, beiges, and subtle desert hues, and received technology enhancements at the same time– something I am awaiting for myself.

My advice to you is do not let the coyotes in your room, as they have a reputation for refusing to go back out to the desert once they taste the interior luxuries.  They will be unimpressed by the fact that the casitas have won the Urban Land Institute’s environmental award of excellence.  In my own experience, they’ll be far more interested in borrowing your key to the mini-bar.

While celebrating The Boulders let us not forget the 36 holes of Jay Morrish-designed golf comprising the far under-descriptive “North” and “South” courses– which might have benefitted from more fitting names such as “Rock Garden” and “Oh, My God,” for example–and which artfully curve through pure desert with tough penalties, an occasional pulse-quickening carry, and views of the granite boulder formations all around you.  Playing well here honors the architect, yet you’ll be intoxicated enough by the terrain that you’re unlikely to really care about your score.  Both courses weigh in at just under 7,000 yards from the tips, but there’s no reason to play from back there, as you may recall that golf is supposed to be fun.

Highlights include the first  hole on the North Course, which proffers a double dogleg of 513 yards with a forced carry on the second shot.  The south course features back-to-back par threes of 151 and 198 yards at the fifteenth and sixteenth holes—possibly to make up for the impossibly long 601-yard eleventh.  Keep an eye out for wild javelinas—and don’t embarrass them by flubbing a drive.  The so-called signagure hole is South #5, a narrowing par five with dramatic rock outcroppings sheltering the green.

Equally well camougflaged as some of the putting surfaces is a world-class Golf Academy commanded by top-100 teacher Donald Crawley, which offers a variety of clinics including a “scoring zone” school and lessons for beginners, women, and other constituencies, ranging from one hour to three days.

Following golf you’ll also want to consider rock climbing, biking, horseback riding, hot air ballooning, hiking, or just a stroll through the organic garden.  Or not.  Perhaps lying by the pool and listening to the plash of a waterfall dropping through a crevice in the rock will have exhausted you to the point where only a visit to the 33,000 sq ft Golden Door spa will revive you.  The spa is an oasis within the oasis of the property itself, quiet, private, with a labyrinth, tipi, and views of Black Mountain in the distance in addition to private pools and treatment rooms featuring services like an underwater Watsu treatment or a Native American turquoise wrap.

Ahhh. The Golden Door.

Gearhart Golf Links.

During the same month that Oregon, my home state, has garnered the honor of being home to the #1 golf resort in the US (according to the recent listing in Golf Digest that would be Bandon Dunes), there’s other good news for Beaver State golfers as well (though being the Beaver State, in the first place, isn’t such good news).  The Oregon Golf Association (OGA) just announced a spanking new deal called the ExploreOregonGolf VIP Card.  We agree that’s a lot of words to string together via capital letters, but it’s also the best deal on golf we’ve seen since the days when we played our college golf course for fifty cents for all the holes you could squeeze in during a single day (and the answer to that question is 63 if you attended your early Irish Literature class and still wanted to make it to dinner in the evening).

The OGA is only selling 1,000 of the cards, for $125 for OGA members, $200 otherwise.  It buys you a round of golf at 55 different courses throughout the state for $30 or less, including a golf cart.  And there are some great courses on the list, including Bandon Crossings, Black Butte, Eagle Crest, Sunriver, The Reserve, and more.  But don’t try to play them all in one day, since you have the entirety of 2012 to cover all 990 holes (and to save up to $2,500).

Because the OGA is a non-profit, a portion of the proceeds will go to allied association and charitable organizations who help to grow the game.  For more info or to cash in on the card before they run out, visit vip.exploreoregongolf.com

All photos are post-renovation.  I’ll write an update of my more recent visit in the next few weeks.

Even if you watched this year’s Accenture Match Play Championship at La Costa on television, you may have missed my exciting match against a Texas golf writer who hit the flagstick with a sculled chip shot as hard as anyone has ever hit a flagstick in the long, storied history of golf.  Somehow the ball dropped into the hole for birdie.  You didn’t see this miraculous trick shot (the pros don’t even attempt stuff like that) because the Texas writer— whom I’ll call “Art”— and I weren’t actually able to make it to La Costa for the tournament.  We played our match several weeks later, when the crowds had already left.  I won’t give away the outcome, but let’s just say that a dollar was supposed to change hands and it wasn’t supposed co come out of my wallet.  So it wasn’t the blue Wedgwood Walter Hagen Trophy (or the $1.3 million) that Geoff Ogilvy pocketed this year when he beat Davis Love in the Match Play finals 3 and 2.  But sometimes squeezing a buck out of a tightwad can feel just as good.

Okay, I’m lying.  But it was still better than losing a buck.

Professional golfers have been teeing it up in tournaments at La Costa virtually since the toney resort opened in the rolling, coastal foothills 30 miles north of San Diego in 1965.  Designed by Dick Wilson and Joe Lee (best known for their work at Doral), La Costa’s golf courses have hosted events ranging from the Haig and Haig Scotch Mixed Tournament (1965-1967) to the Tournament of Champions (1969-1998).  In the early days, names like Hope, Martin, and Crosby showed up regularly on the tee sheet at this resort that was the first in the U.S. to boast a full-service spa.

La Costa added its second golf course— designed by Lee one-half at a time in 1973 and 1984— and eventually paired new nines and old nines to create the North and South Courses.  The Accenture Match Play Championship, which was held here seven times (it will move to The Gallery, outside Tucson next year), took place on a composite course that is available to guests several times each year.  It consists of the back nine of the South Course as the front nine, and North 1-3 and 13-18 as the back nine.  La Costa’s charming and efficient Director of Golf, Desi Howe, says, “Our guests who play the composite course really enjoy playing and visualizing the same shots the tour professionals faced only a few weeks before.  It’s a great way to make a personal connection to the history and tradition La Costa has enjoyed with the best players in the world, dating back to the 1960s.”  And also with some of the worst players in the world, if you take Art and me into account.

In addition to myself, winners at La Costa include names such as Love, Woods, Kite, Miller, Nicklaus, and Trevino.  Nicklaus has said of the course, “You’ve got to start out fast and hold on at the end.”  San Diego Magazine reported, “The players . . . think it is a fair course, challenging without bordering on ridiculously difficult.”  Nobody thought to quote me, perhaps for good reason.

Both layouts feature Bermuda grass in the fairways and roughs, and Bent grass greens.  They play through mature trees of seemingly infinite variety, with generous fairways, rounded grabby bunkers ingeniously placed, man-made lakes, and small, elevated putting surfaces.  North plays a bit longer while South requires a little more accuracy.  Wind is a factor throughout and you must have an aerial game to survive on either venue.

Art and I played our entire match on South, where he started aggressively by power fading into the topiary to the right of the first hole, an easy 357-yard opener where he meant to hit to the edge of water, leaving a short chip to the green.  Speaking of water, his approach to the second green would have ended up in the pond behind it had he not slammed the pin and sucked down into the cup for an ill-conceived birdie.  I assumed neighbors were dialing up 911 when they heard him cackling not far from where children played in grassy yards.

Number three is the toughest on La Costa’s South Course, an uphill three-shot par four with five bunkers clustering around the green like Tony Soprano’s cousins.  Both of us avoided these dangers en route to bogies. The fifth hole presents a bit of trickery, which Art fell for.  This 406-yard downhiller features wind blowing toward a ditch, where Art’s ball likely still lies, and which led our playing companion to call him “Baranca Obama.”  I overcompensated for my slice by yanking one far left, leaving an amusing lie that forced me to lay up, though I didn’t know that until after striking the shot.  Following my three putt, our droll third told me I was “no Two-Putt Shakur.”  But I still won the hole.  And told him to shut up.

After that, my wheels spun off for a couple of holes that I will not describe to you except to say that the widest part of number six is the hot dog shack beyond the green, which I hit easily.  Number eight presents a fine par three with a swampy waste area to the right, and though Art hit to 12 feet and I was in a bunker we both made pars, which deflated him faster than a parade float.  Art then shook hands with the snowman on the ninth hole to leave me one up for the front side.

On the back I began to realize just how diabolically La Costa’s bunkers are placed, and thought about tracking down Joe Lee if he’s still alive.  I also learned—twice—that five wood isn’t always the best way to escape said bunkers, especially when you’ve still got 200 yards to a green protected by trees, lake, and other bunkers and you need a perfect angle and an air drop to end up in the same area code as the pin.  I hit into another bunker on eleven to add to my collection.  Fourteen, an excellent uphill par three with elevated green and four deep bunkers, cries out for loft, which I delivered.  I guess I never heard it cry out for accuracy, as well.  I missed a short putt for bogie, but my opponent’s growing portfolio of flubs conspired to award me the hole.

Nobody knows better than me and Art why they call the last four holes of the South Course “The Longest Mile” (it plays 1847 yards into the wind).  Art made it seem even longer by dropping an 18-footer for birdie on fifteen and executing a dance step the likes of which I can only hope to never witness again.  On sixteen and seventeen we took turns hitting into water, leaving our match even going into eighteen—which the fans would have loved if there had been any fans.  Even our cynical companion could barely stand to watch us any more.

La Costa South’s par-four closing hole plays 460 LONG yards uphill into the wind, with water fronting the green and an excellent restaurant lying in wait behind it.  After swinging harder than men our age should ever swing anything without a chiropractor close at hand, I lay 150 yards from the pin in the middle of the fairway while Art was about 225 out in the rough.  Most guys wouldn’t have laid up into the fairway bunker from there, but Art is not most guys.  If his plan from that point was to hit his wood 75 yards short of the green, he executed perfectly.  I won the hole—and the match—unprettily with a bogie.

I soon discovered that beyond the two golf courses lies a resort as beloved by guests as the courses are by tour players, local sticks, and many others who are not Art.  Coming off a $140 million renovation, the property boasts 474 remodeled guest rooms; a new clubhouse and 8,000 sq ft fitness center staffed by dieticians and exercise physiologists; two new restaurants (BlueFire Bar and Grill and Legends Bistro); and a 28,000 sq ft spa designed in the Spanish colonial style with feng shui features, 42 treatment rooms, and a roman waterfall pounding massage.   La Costa is also home to the Chopra Center, an additional full service spa the goal of which is to align body and spirit.  That was the last place I saw Art.

Flexible Flyers

There’s always been a huge gap between two schools of instructional thought– the technocrats, who believe that technical mechanics are the key to playing great golf, and the mystocrats, who believe that great golf is all in the mind and you need only access your inner-scratch-player to succeed.

At La Costa, PGA member and certified yoga instructor Roger Fredericks is now playing the music that will bring the two together.   The magical theme song with the power to conjoin them is flexibility, something that both sides are talking about without really saying it.  Mechanical instruction peddles it when touting shoulder turn, hip rotation, and arm extension; new age instruction addresses flexibility of the mind in terms of opening up to new ways of thinking.  Fredericks, who employs knowledge and techniques from physiology, biomechanics, kinesiology, yoga, swing videotape, and other sources, has used it in his work with such luminaries as Nicklaus, Palmer, Player, and more than 60 other touring pros.

Traditional golf instruction often tells players to do things that they are physically not capable of because their shoulders are too tight, their hips don’t flex in the way that Tiger’s or John Daly’s do, and their general range of motion is limited.  Most golf students are entirely unfit (literally) to execute the things they’re being told will make them better golfers.  The only thing traditional golf instruction stretches is credibility.  On the other side of the dance hall, the mystics encourage golfers to let go, to stop thinking, to BE the ball, for godsakes.  But how can you act in a certain way if the metaphor of your body is tightness, stress, tension– in a word, inflexibility, whether to new ideas or the kind involved in bending over to tie your golf shoes?

Fredericks’s approach– which is both simple and so obvious that it hurts (yes, literally)– may be the real key to not only bringing together technocrats and mystocrats, but also to improving the performance of golfers on the course and in their lives in general.  Flexibility promises to deliver many of the things that technical instruction and mystical new-age chanting have promised in terms of golf performance, but it may also complete the missing piece in a puzzle in which golf and life really are parallel.  Because being more flexible in your body also translates to being more flexible in life.

The farther I can get from the obvious trophy courses when visiting Scotland, the more authentic my visits always prove to be (and the less likely it will take more than 3.5 hours to play). I hesitate to mention 120-year-old Brora Golf Club in northern Scotland, and only do so because you are unlikely to venture 52 miles north of Inverness, past Dornoch, to play a 6,156-yard course that isn’t particularly famous. But Brora is the sublimest of Scottish links, shaped by the genius hand of James Braid and cut by the Clynelish burn, which runs past the fine whisky distillery of the same name. Brora’s greens are mined with deep, revetted bunkers and surrounded by electric fences to keep out grazing sheep and cattle, and golfers must step carefully over these fences to reach the putting surfaces, thus adding a dimension of potential danger that golf usually lacks. Around the corner lies the rock-solid Royal Marine Hotel, where the manager once presented me with a blue-striped Brora Golf Club tie that I still cherish and wear with pride on special occasions.

From the first tee golfers begin to interact with the landscape and history– a stone wall left of the green is like a doorway to what lies ahead.  The second tee shot– at least in my case– caromed off a similar wall because I mis-judged the line toward the hole 588 yards away and ending on the edge of a peninsula jutting into breaking waves, with a round stone tower beyond and the ruins of a castle further beyond in the distance.  To the right cliffs dropped down to the water.  The third hole is a wonderful par three that plays as long as 194 yards: anything short kicks off an invisible slope toward a pot bunker that you barely notice while setting up the shot.

While I am never a fan of reading hole-by-hole descriptions of golf courses, it’s almost too difficult to just pick a couple at Tralee to showcase.  I’ll skip a few and tell you that the 157-yard seventh offers another distracting castle view and three lovely pot bunkers lurking to the right of the green.  Anything left can be considered an offering to Poseidon.  But wait, I have to also mention number eight, a 399-yarder that my notes say– with exclamation points!!!– may be one of the worlds best par fours, with ruins visible in the left corner, beach all to the left, and wind coming in off the water, challenging you to choose the best shot at the best angle.  A narrow neck between dunes and cliffs is right about where you’d hope to hit a drive.

Your humble scribe.

On the back nine the eleventh finds golfers wandering along curling fairways carved into high dunes, wheat-colored on top, daunting from ground level, and no place to leave a golf ball.  The thirteenth must clearly rank with the best par threes in the entire world, which would be fine to write if I hadn’t already said that about a couple on the front nine.  Let’s just say that you’ll need a rope and harness to find anything hit short, which will disappear into an abyss so deep and dark there may well be a dragon and a wizard down there.

The 13th. Do NOT go in there!

The closing holes here are among the most fun you could find anywhere, and they actually relent a bit in length and difficulty, providing for a strong finish, which all golfers love.  The 300-yard 15th requires a bunt driver lay-up to a platform between dunes and bunkers and then a possibly-blind, perfect high-lofted pitch to a small green.  And no, I didn’t only love it because I made birdie here.  It’s followed by a solid par three set against the Atlantic, a mid-range par four, and a reachable par-five at the final hole where the drive must be hit boldly between bunkers angling into the fairway from both the right and the left.

While we enjoyed a Guinness in the clubhouse, as required by Irish law, I happened to look out the window at a man being rolled onto the putting green in a wheelchair.  We were told that the noble gentlemen, who played off a nine handicap and traversed the links at Tralee about five times a week– as would anyone with any sense who was lucky enough to live nearby– had recently suffered an aneurism and for a while wasn’t expected to live.  We were witness to his triumphant return to the course to hit his first putts since his injury, and I was very moved by his bravery and fortitude, and reminded of what golf means and has meant to people.  My father was one such person, and his recovery from cancer was driven by his unrelenting desire to play golf again.  Years after this, when my dad realized he would not be able to play any more, I believe he decided that he’d reached an acceptable end.

A genuine, true-to-life hero, about to knock down some putts.

And so the Golf Road Warriors wish this gent great success in putting, chipping, and all other golf related endeavors and will offer a few prayers that he’ll enjoy further birdies in a successful future.

Killarney’s The Malton.  And Good-bye to the van!

Even in Ireland, in July, it eventually gets dark outside.  And even the golf road warriors must eat and sleep at some point.  I can think of few cities that provide a better place to golf, eat, and sleep than Killarney.  And after five days of changing hotels each night– which required packing when we finished work at 2 a.m. and grabbing a quick continental breakfast as we headed out the door the next morning before the dining room even opened– arriving at Killarney’s The Malton was like glimpsing the promised land.  We’ve been here a couple of days now luxuriating in the huge, soft double-beds with rich, patterned leather headboards, and the grand public rooms of this classic former railway hotel.

Even better, it’s located walking distance from Killarney’s High Street, a veritable show-off of a narrow, atmospheric lane full of pubs and bookshops and bakeries, as well as great hotels and restaurants.  Walking along you can hear live Irish music and be drawn in for a pint of Guinness before you even realize it’s happened.

Tom Harack and Peter Kessler frighten a little girl outside Hannigans bar the day after our evening there.

Killeen House Hotel and Rozzers Restaurant

On our second night our new mate and host Rory M. (no not the one who won the US Open), shuttled us to Rozzers Restaurant at the Killeen House Hotel where we fell into the devoted hands of Geraldine and Michael Rosney, whose hospitality was somehow exceeded by the food,which is really saying something.  I can also say that the Chateaubriand, medium rare, was among the best steaks I’ve ever had, served with three kinds of sauces, though it didn’t need any.  Michael explained that they source their meats so locally that he could point me to the very field that particular cow was raised in.  While I carefully protected my meal from my dining companions I simultaneously coveted the rack of lamb being protectively consumed across the table from me.

Ah, the beloved filet, with a smooth Cotes du Rhone, at Rozzers.

We decided to further discuss dinner and various golf-related subjects in the hotel bar, where we tested to make sure the Bushmill’s was in good shape, which it was.  Unfortunately we didn’t have our golf bags with us, as the bar accepts logo golf balls as currency, and the walls have been decorated with thousands of balls, bag tags from clubs worldwide, and various other golf/travel curiosities.  While the dining room was lively and cheerful, the bar was more contemplative and cheerful, and we sipped and talked until it seemed too easy to just ask for a room upstairs, even though we already had one at The Malton.

Our good friend and Golf Road Warriors sponsor Gordon Dalgleish, president of the fine PerryGolf travel company, is a fan of Bricin Restaurant.  Gordon says, “Bricin is located upstairs over a craft shop and has combined a warm atmosphere with down-to-earth food since 1990.  The large restaurant is broken up into smaller, more intimate spaces.  It has an old-fashioned character and an informative wine list.”

Its always worth listening to someone as well-traveled and accustomed to quality as Gordon, and so eight of us tried Bricin last night.  The room is decorated with old prints and photos on the rich red walls and has several fireplaces, some located in the smaller, cozier spaces, and one in the lovely main dining room.  Our orders ranged from starters such as a goat cheese tartlet and the seafood chowder to main courses including steaks, fish, and a perky curry that went perfectly with Murphy’s on tap.  Let me just say that we didn’t skimp on desert, either.

The super-cozy dining room at Bricin.

Tonight we’re at The Malton for a media reception and dinner (note: we ate in The Malton’s restaurant on our first night, upon arrival, and I am hoping some lamb may find itself in my general vicinity), the kind of event at which nearly anything is capable of happening, and usually does.  I’ll report back on this– right now I have to go downstairs and be polite by drinking several Guinnesses, and then perhaps smoking a cigar on one of the gravel paths in the garden.

The best two shots I had all day.

Well, it wasn’t pretty out there for me today, although it sure was pretty– the Killarney Golf & Fishing Club provided a meticulously maintained venue for the pro am for the Irish Open this morning.  We teed off at 8:25 on the eleventh hole and faced daunting challenges early, as the course played long and wet and I played like I was underwater.

By the time we’d warmed up fans began to gather, and I was hoping that tournament organizers were including helmets with entry fees.

The highlight of my day came at the 1st hole, when after knocking mm drive just into the second cut into tall, wet grass, my new coach Arthur Spring Sr.  recommended six iron for the difficult 160-yard shot.  A crowed of on-lookers had just finished clapping for the approach of our touring pro John Parry.  My goal on the approach was not to hit anybody hard enough to send them to the hospital.  But my shot cut crisply through the grass and launched the ball over the corner of beach I needed to fly and bounded once short of the green and then high up onto a ridge at the left edge of the putting surface.  At first I didn’t recognize the sound, and when I did, assumed it must be for Rory McIlroy, who was actually teeing off on an adjacent hole.  But no, the clapping was for me.  It was enough inspiration for me to knock the double-breaking 25-foot downhill putt to three feet and solidly put the next one away for par.

No I didn't reverse the negative. Cybergolf journalist Steve Habel plays from the other side of the ball.

I must also mention one other highlight, since you weren’t there to see it.  Just after passing Padraig Harrington, who pretended not to even recognize me, we came to one of the shortest holes on the golf course.  Coach Spring wisely took driver out of my hand and suggested perhaps a rescue club hit with a little draw.  I responded by scuffing a half-sculled, half-shanked low-runner which came to rest– as if I’d intended this– in the center of the fairway about 160 yards from the green.  I stepped up confidently with a seven-iron and hit the identical shot onto the green, although there was no applause, and in fact people seemed to be trying to look away.  Then I left my twelve foot putt about six feet short and knocked in the next one for one of the worst pars ever witnessed by someone who purposely came out to watch other people play golf.  But the best part is that I beat our touring pro on the hole.

The perfect form of Euro tour pro John Parry. I actually out-drove him here (so what if he started from 70 yards farther back).

Many of the pins today were set at the top or bottom of equally impossible ridges, which made for much entertainment and consternation, a strange combo.

We finished at eight under par, which sounds somewhat impressive since I am not going to explain what the format was for the event.

The last time I played Ballybunion’s Old Course– one of the world’s premier links courses– rain was falling so hard I barely looked out from under my rain hat.  Today our caddie rued the suntan he’d gotten on a day that must have hit 75 without a cloud in the sky.

The author, who's shirt nearly matches the flat.

We started on possibly one of the best opening holes in golf– a graveyard protects the right side, quite literally meaning death for slicers.  To the left you actually have to drive the ball over another green, and the starter maintains control of traffic to prevent inadvertent injury.  Two more holes in the first six tee over other greens and rather than an annoyance it builds a sense of camaraderie among the passels of golfers who’ve come here from around the globe.  Ballybunion has an inexplicable attraction and builds a kind of joy throughout the round.  Part of this comes later, from the seaside holes, but even at the crowded beginning, being close to town, there’s a feeling of community, like you’re playing golf in a giant adult playground lacking only a tilt-a-whirl that dispenses Guinness.

At number three you first glimpse the bay and breakers in the distance– the 214-yard hole is protected by three pot bunkers and several dips and swales in front.

Decent backswings and follow-throughs, excellent grammar.

The quirky routing adds to the attractions.  Back-to-back par fives challenge at number four and five before number six turns directly toward the ocean, with a green perched on the edge of a drop-off down to the beach.  The green itself, like many here, has a soft side and a dangerous side– my surprisingly well-struck approach hit the wrong side, leaving a delicate pitch to the putting surface.

The seventh presents a difficult choice: tempt the water on your tee shot by taking the ball out on the edge of the sea and letting the wind blow it back to the left, or hit to the right and face an approach that risks flairing off right into breaking waves.

I played the course in the company of several other golf journalists as well as Rory Mathews– the other Irish Rory M.– a representative of the Irish Tourist Board.  We had many laughs, applauded great shots and rued bad breaks and bantered with master caddie Adrian Carr en route.

Number thirteen was perhaps my favorite hole on the course, a short par five of 476 yards that presents the greatest of golf dilemmas on the second shot: whether to lay up or carry a burn short of the green.  It precedes a par three that our caddie guessed that maybe one golfer every two weeks hits the green on.  And we left that opportunity to others.  Fourteen precedes another par three  that requires a stout driver to reach the putting surface.

We found Ballybunion Old to be eminently user friendly, especially compared to some of the other links courses we played this week.  The fact that it is difficult to understand exactly why it’s so good is just part of it’s charm.  But experts obviously agree, as the course is listed among the top 20 in the world.

Finishing with the starter.

The stellar 16th at Carne Golf Links.

Welcome to the modern era, where—armed with a TEP wifi device and a Canon G11 camera) I can post several stories onto the golf road warriors website from the backseat of our VW Transporter while Peter Kessler snores beside me in the back seat and Hal Phillips and Tom Harack argue about directions up front.

We’re on our way from the outpost of Carne Golf Links via a five hour drive to Killarney, where we’ll meet up with a group of other journalists for an organized five-day press trip around the Irish Open.

We arrived at Carne this morning from Enniscrone after a ninety minute drive  to find fog and light mist, muted colors, dripping eaves, and a general pall in the atmosphere.  We pulled on our waterproofs and went to the first tee which overlooked a fairway disappearing into distant dunes and mist like something out of a tale of knights and ancient battles.  Our modern battle was a skins game that greatly deteriorated later in the round, along with the weather and the state of our nerves.  The only real color came from wildflowers growing brightly in the rough—purple heather, tiny yellow and blue flowers, ivory hued  Burnet roses, thyme, primroses, and more,  but you really don’t get a chance to appreciate their beauty because if you’re in the flowers you have more important things to worry about, such as finding your way back to a fairway someplace nearby.

Carne is quite generous off the tees, especially compared to some of the other venues we’ve sampled this week.  Eddie Hackett crafted the layout on the grounds of a former racetrack.  Although the current course was opened in 1993, the Bellmullett golf club which calls the course home was founded in 1925.  And which sounds as much like the name of a haircut as a golf club.

That first wide welcoming strip received our drives with great hospitality but offered little in the way of a look at the actual green still a solid mid-iron away.

During our round at Carne we were also field testing a set of Adams hybrid irons that had been made to Peter Kessler’s specifications but since Peter’s injury earlier in the trip, the rest of us were now competing for a chance to use a variety of the Adams clubs.  I’m not making this up when I say that on the second hole I hit the driver off the tee and following a very pleasant CRACK I watched my ball launch itself aggressively down the fairway.  On the second shot I pulled out the Adams hybrid six for a shot of 165 yards uphill into a slight wind, heard a similar Kaboom, and watched my Titleist fly toward the pin like a kid running happily out of the classroom on the last day of school, and stopping about eighteen feet from the hole.  Needless to say, I won the skin.

As I did on the next hole as well.

The holes at Carne, in general, were good solid fun without the wow factor we experienced the previous day at Enniscrone.  It occurred to me today that if author Frank Herbert had been a golfer he may have set his famous sci-fi novel Dune at Enniscrone, because they’ve got some of the biggest dunes I’ve seen on the planet.

On the eleventh hole the routing at Carne turned outward to where we could first hear the ocean and see distant breakers way out beyond the dunes.  The  hole played about 330 yards and required a tee shot delivered through a passage between two giant sandhills followed by a second shot hit high in the air to a welcoming platform green.

Toward the end of our round wind and rain and fatigue won out and we staggered through the final holes thinking about seafood chowder, which was in our near futures.

Quite Possibly the World's Most Inviting Green.

After midnight on day four, cool and crisp with salt on the light breeze here at the modern and luxurious  Diamond Coast Hotel just up the road from Enniscrone Golf Club.

The day began many hours ago with a trip to Letterkenny General Hospital to retrieve ailing golf road warrior Peter Kessler.  After a few hours of driving we reached the Enniscrone golf links early—nearly unheard of for the warriors—just in time for our 4:20 tee time.  And off we went, out into possibly the most enchanting and unexpected golf course I’ve ever played.

From the very first hole, which starts in a flatland beside the car park and curves past the clubhouse before disappearing into the high dunes, we were mesmerized.  Though the amphitheater green looked to be miles away and uphill through a narrow hallway we grappled with long woods and got close enough for two of us to make pars.  Number two proved equally extravagant, calling for a drive into a receptive tureen of fairway, and a second shot just short of or into a narrow neck from where an uphill shot to a blind green perched on the edge of the ocean awaited.  The third presented a daunting uphill par three with a steep front ready to repel puckish approaches.

At number five the feeling of a stunning mountain backpacking trip gave way to a series of holes out in the flats, the relenting nature of which felt like a vacation.  We breathed a little easier, though even these open holes were terrific, featuring elevated greens that successfully deflected winsome shots and demanded instead high, bold soft-landing approaches.  The ninth presented a scythe of a par four wrapping along the mudflats of the bay and aflutter with flocks of birds.

By the first hole on the back side the course transitioned into low marshlands beside a scenic bay.  From the tee no fairway at all was visible, testing your faith in driver.  Upon finishing twelve, pictured above, I wrote in my notes that it was the money shot—requesting a controlled tee ball of about 200 yards and then a flier hit into a shadowy theater where the green lurked, with just a scattering of sunlight, and deep, dark shadows cast by massive dunes.

But then thirteen proved even better—another gorgeous, rollicking roller-coaster ride downhill with a green site worthy of any painting.

By the closing holes we were spent due to beauty and challenge and the delight of playing Irish golf in warm sun in a beautiful place with good friends.

Delightful Donegal

Seeing how the golf holes at Donegal sit so contentedly in the low dunes beside a round bay you’ll think they’ve been tramped and played upon for centuries.  But these sublime links were actually designed with the help of Eddie Hackett in the 1970s, proving that you don’t have to be old to be great.  Donegal has the wide, open, inviting feel of the great Panmure in Scotland, with surrounding pines and a feel somewhere between true links and heathland.  Recent Open Championship winner Darren Clarke proclaimed Donegal as one of his favorite in the world.

The course opens with a stout 520-yard par five that leads you off from civilization and asks for a couple of well-struck shots off the turf to a green protected by a figure-eight bunker in front.  Two crossings of a dry burn foreshadow a major strategic element that will reappear throughout the day.  The course presents various moods and recalls some of the other great links courses of the world, as at number six, where the 500-yarder with the ocean paralleling the fairway just beyond high dunes evokes Turnberry.

The front nine loops in a returning outer circle around the back nine, which plays in a tighter loop.  Expect to hit some great shots and be punished for them if the fates have deemed you undeserving of a kick that– had it been two inches to the left– might have avoided danger, but also expect cleverly crafted green complexes with bunkers that often ask for a high, soft delivery– in our cases often hit out of tall fescues.  The grasses release the ball more generously than expected and so shots you worried about delivering to the green may well sail over them leaving similar shots– though shorter– out of similar grasses.

The burns which wind parallel and across many holes set the limits of sensible landing areas, which is great if you’re paying attention and maddening if you just want to step up and crush a shot, as the Golf Road Warriors seem apt to do.  Upon delivering my second shot on number eleven into a burn I turned in frustration to Hal Phillips, who shrugged unsympathetically and told me I should know enough to expect such vagaries from links golf.  Which was good advice quickly ignored when he soon cursed his own fates and the unfairness of a bounce that would render his rather open-faced and pushed tee shot unfindable.

The other interesting moment in today’s round was when I observed Peter Kessler fall to his knees following a sand wedge into the green that found the front right bunker.  I watched as Peter writhed for a few moments and then crawled back to the cart on his hands and knees.  This was in great contrast to his patently annoying “victory dance” delivered when he makes an impossible up and down out of a bunker or grass taller than he is, or some such inexcusable miracle.  I assumed the crawling and writhing were due to the fact that my ball lay fifteen feet from the pin and Peter knew I was about to go one up in our match.  I’m still not entirely convinced that the whole hospital visit, etc., that followed wasn’t a ruse to escape from a match that Peter clearly recognized from my new-found vigor and sudden and unexpected purity of swing was unwinnable for him.

It turns out after much driving about the country to doctors and hospitals that Peter tore a muscle around his hip and will be out of golf action for some time, though like any true golf warrior he’ll be staying with us for moral support as well as– we hope– assuming the burden of much more of the work involved in this trip while we traipse around the golf course smoking his cigars.

Must grab a quick curry before the drive to Eniscrone.  More soon.

Here’s a quick tour of the Golf Road Warriors van on day two in the parking lot of the Ballyliffin Golf Links.

Great downhill par three at Ballyliffin Glashedy. The green was reach by several players who shall remain nameless.

Nearly eleven in the evening here at Rosapenna in northern Ireland and the sun is just setting over the golf course and the round bay beyond my window at the Rosapenna Hotel.  We’ve just finished a fabulous four-course meal in the dining room, met some nice locals at the next table who were eager to trade golfing tales, and now, finally, it’s time to get to work!

A long day for the warriors began in Ballyliffin over the full Irish breakfast, followed by golf on the fantastic and difficult Glashedy Links.  As we approached the ninth green– essentially from the four directions– General Manager John Farren drove up in his truck with a special delivery for Peter Kessler: the brand new set of Adams hybrid irons we’d been waiting for.  The clubs were built by Adams on Monday and shipped to the very remote location for this morning– a tribute to our friends at Adams, who were so thoughtful as to include an umbrella with the set!  Kessler took off the plastic factory wrapping on the driver and proceeded to crush one down the center, to the rest of our dismay.  Peter sends along a giant thank you to Adams golf.  I am withholding comment after losing two matches to Kessler today, and going down three in our lifetime series.  Tomorrow, I’m hitting the Adams clubs!

John Farren delivers the goods to Peter Kessler.

Following a great lunch at the Ballyliffin clubhouse (I recommend the Tandoori chicken washed down with a Guinness) we hit the road, hard, for the two-hour drive to Rosapenna.  Much gorgeous Irish scenery along the way, from high cliffs and granite strewn green fields, rocky brooks, stone ruins, and plenty of chip shops in the small towns.

Hal Phillips amid the massive dunes at Rosapenna.

They were waiting for us at the clubhouse at Rosapenna and we teed off on the Sandy Hills Links at just before five in the evening with the weather delivering an extra pleasure and the boys in shorts.  Cigars were lit, balls flew, and occasionally some found the fairways and greens, though there was much tramping through the gorse on one of the toughest courses any of us have ever played.  Some hysteria ensued, such as when Tom and Hal, both lying something like fifteen in the fairway, haggled over whether one of them had hit the other’s ball.

Highlights of the day included two shots struck by Hal Phillips that hit the pin– one on the par-three fourteenth at Ballyliffin that gave us all a chill, although the ball bounded eighteen inches away leaving him with a birdie rather than buying drinks.  But the afternoon shot, hit from the fairway about 150 from the hole dunked in and stayed for an eagle.

Clouds swirled and shifted, sunbreaks warmed us, and we carried on despite aching backs and bruised egos to play the full course and finish at nine, fifteen minutes before the dining room closed.

Tomorrow calls for an even earlier start for a 7:00 a.m. breakfast and the drive to Narin & Portnoo for the morning round.  More soon!