I am sorry to come in late, obviously I could have save you all a lot of time and effort. During the late 1970s I was stationed in Toamasina, Madagascar at a tortoise research park. This was before my interest in golf design, but during my interest in the study of reptiles. We were there with a herd (yes herd) of Sulcata tortoises, a giant variety that grows to more than 30-inches in length. They are the second largest of the land tortoises.
While there — and as an avid golfer — I found a local bartender who had a first-generation Ping putter behind the bar. Routinely he would use it to gather empty mugs and corral them to the end of the bartop where the glasses would clank and collect above an old rusty sink. I nearly forgot his name until this thread: Mutîn L'ecule. I inquired to Mutîn about the putter and he told me it was left as payment for a bar tab a few years earlier. Having known the Solheims for years I recognized the putter as one of their popular double bent shaft models — these were eventually banned by USGA equipment rulings.
Mutîn asked if I played golf and I told him I did, but had not played since arriving — at this time perhaps four months. That was all it took and Mutîn invited me to "his club". I was initially shocked as no ond had ever mentioned a golf course in Madagascar, or even a driving range. He said Fridays would be the best day as most Madagascarites took off early then — but to drink and ready for dinner, apparently not to play golf. Mutîn was not a drinker, and single, so he informed me this was his day to golf whenever he found a reason. I was that reason: An American starved for golf and stuck on an overgrown seacoast with more wind than rain — unusual in Madagascar.
Mutîn offered to drive me as he said it was quite a difficult set of instructions. Besides, I only had a Moped and it was good for just 50 miles before I'd have to re-fuel. The course was "about 60 kilometers" and I would be stuck there if no one had gas. So I prepared for Friday and really, at the time, knew very little other that it was an 18-hole course and Mutîn was either a member or had a contact. He assured me they would have clubs and we could take a dinner there afterward.
I received permission to finish my field counts of Sulcatas early on the Friday and met Mutîn at his work. From there we bravely set off in Mutîn's Citron "Micro-auto", a sort of pick-up truck which made all Citrons look beautiful. What was amazing is that it was in such great shape for a 1961 that had literally been driven 250,000 km before Mutîn bought it. The odometer had broken, he told me, the second day he drove it. His estimate was about 350,000 km. (It smelled of beer, as did Mutîn, even though he did not drink. It was my guess that he washed his shirts in with bar towels as both he and the bar smelled alike.)
Yes, I arrived at "Foulpoint Athletics & Mongoky CC" after some 60 km of rough roads. Mongoky is a small settlement near Fianarantosa, a town I had been to twice to pick up some aerial photos. There is a small airport in Fianarantosa as the town is upland and not subject to as much wind. Fianarantosa also is known for its night life, although this is in context to the balance of the country, which is nothing until you reach the capital of Antananarivo — unfortunately for me and three other researchers there were no wild Salcutas within 100 miles of Antananarivo so we found it hard to justify the tiring trip there just to party. besides, we had Mutîn and his pseudo pub.
I still have the score card for MutînCC, but cannot find it at the moment. When I do I'll try posting it. What I can tell you is that Mongoky CC is just over 6,000 yards and the athletic club part is the real business enterprise. Foulpoint (no "e") is, I believe, a reference to a peak that houses several military installations and the locals began calling it "Foulpoint" as it ruined the silouette of the multiple rock jutting peaks as seen from town.
I'd place the entire grounds of what everyone referred to as Mongoky at only 300 acres of range land covered with large kiku-biki trees, which are like desert mesquites only four times as large. They are, I believe, a relative of the mesquite.
Interesting, Mongoky CC was measured in fathoms — just over 1000. I always found that amusing, especially when introduced to the brains behind this quirk: Hans Bjorklund, a transplanted Swed who ran a dive shop until rupturing a vessel in his arm and took up golf. His wife, who's name I cannot recall, ran the restaurant and also, of all things, sold American Civil war figures made of pewter. Very weird, but I believe if she had had e-Bay she might have been very rich off the trade. As it was she shipped these collections all over the world and most were well guarded behind glass cases.
My first round was marked by Hans' taking us on a tour of the entire grounds which nearly took two hours. Mutîn and I walked while Hans rode a small riding tractor, the kind of thing you see in Sears, but this one made by some Spanish concern. Mutîn was never easy around Hans, whom he described as "possible a Mob figure who had once lived in America". I was never certain when Mutîn made such comments as it was MY feeling that, if anyone, Mutîn may possible be in the local Mob! Anyway, we set off with Hans and arrives at the first tee after