Last year about this time I drove by (but didn't enter, because it was just a construction road) the Streamsong site. Based on that drive-by my preconception was of a totally desolate flat backwoods central Florida site. Scrub land and berms not nearly hiding mammoth mining dredgers. Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago and it was time to make the long drive from Naples to Toronto with a few golf stops along the way. Where better to stop first than Streamsong?
It took about an hour and 45 minutes driving up from Ft Myers via Hwy 17. Along the way there are miles of flat plains and small towns like Wachula.
The dreary drive occasionally gave way to flat orange groves.
The final stretch of road, is of course, flat on the left and bermed on the right. The east end of Streamsong is just a few hundred yards to the right over the berm. Where the heck is all this elevation change that people are talking about?
At least there is the requisite railroad track denoting a real golf course. Too bad there is no station (or probably service) or you could really feel like its been modeled after the UK.
The GPS wasn't new enough to map the place, but there was one unprepossessing direction sign approaching from the south. There was certainly little traffic to worry about while taking pictures.
The entrance signage is equally low key rusty iron.
The drive through the twisty long entrance road is equally low key interrupted only by the hotel construction (which seems far away from the clubhouse). There is certainly no lush landscaping at this point along the road like you would find at most Florida luxury resorts.After a long curve that overlooks a plain plain you come face to face with a huge sugar white dune with the clubhouse peaking through a gap.
The whole check-in process seemed a little over the top to me. Everyone was trying super hard to be friendly and accommodating although the process was a little disjointed I thought. First you drive to the bag drop, and then circle back to the carpark which is about 200 yards away. They send a cart out to transport you back to the clubhouse. Check-in was smooth although they were confused about the mandatory forecaddie with the power cart which muddled things up as they sorted it out on the first tee. After check-in it's out to the bag drop again, so they can either stage your bag to the first tee or take you to the range if you want to go. I went to the range - another 200 yard ride to opposite the car park. The range is utilitarian but fine at this point, although it sure looks flat out that way. The chipping green is massive and wildly contoured. It'd look good on the course. They had a guy in a cart who sat and watched me chipping and who went out and picked up the balls as soon as I was finished. A little unnerving having someone waiting and watching when you're the only person on the range.
Anyway, then the cart comes to take you back to the bag drop where they take it from you through a tunnel to put on a cart or give to a caddie or take to the other side if you are walking. Back through the clubhouse and out the other side where there is a putting green. An oddity to me is that the green is supported on the cart path side by a stacked sod wall. Curious.
Putt around a bit while waiting for the pull cart to come up. The putting green is in really good shape. Wander over at #1 Red tee which is very close to the putting green and take a look at that opening tee shot and am thankful that I chose to play the Blue course. I'll have to get back to try it, but it sure looks intimidating at first glance. Take a look at the 19th hole just to the right of the cart path with 7 Blue and 16 Red just down the lake. Kyle Harris happens by. The 19th green is his work. Oh, and he says they've just finished top dressing the greens for us.
Now, on to the course (after the starter drives me up to the 1st tee). In another curious move they sent me out as a single, which was fine with me, and then sent another single out after me. They didn't ask either of us if we wanted to join up.
......... to be continued.