In the current thread on Landmand, Rob Collins said something interesting…
“When Ron Whitten visited the site, he made a comment that really stuck with me & was something I had not previously considered. What he said was that Landmand offers people the opportunity to walk around and interact with a piece of land that you wouldn’t otherwise take a leisurely stroll on…it simply wasn’t a piece of land you’d go walk around on because it was so severe. By virtue of the quantity of earth that was moved, it is walkable and allows one to experience that landscape in a way that was previously impossible.”
When I first read that, I was reading quickly about a new course that interested me and remember thinking that it was a fair statement. The more I think about it, it’s a load of fiddlesticks. Bear with me. Ron isn’t being misleading or full of it when they he says this. But it is absolutely the sort of thing someone that’s spent a career in golf would say about a new project. It almost seemed like it came from the Ben Hogan book of golf course superlatives.
I don’t mean this as a shot at Ron Whitten or Rob Collins or Landmand. But let’s have a talk about this whole idea of “the walk” and “interacting with the land.”
I have many miles of walking in my life. Most of the time it’s for transportation, getting from A to B. When I walk for pleasure, I can’t remember often choosing the sort of land one would route a top 100 in the US golf course over as my preference. That isn’t to say that places like the sandy dunes and hillocks of Long Island or the dead flat pastoral fields on Lake Michigan north of Chicago aren’t pretty. Pretty has do thing to do with it. It’s just that they don’t seem like a great place for a hike.
To his credit, Tom Doak does seem to care about the hiking aspect of golf architecture, routing courses in such a way as to increase the chance that one will be wowed by discovery. We’ve spoken before about intermixing grandeur and intimacy on the golf course, much the same as I would like to happen on a backpacking trip, mountain bike ride, or backcountry elk hunting trip. Not coincidentally, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tom on an existing or in-construction golf course without hiking boots on.
All this to say, I think the Good Walk Spoiled is a fallacy. A golf course must flow and be routed with the walk in mind, sure. Severity isn’t desirable. But the mark of good golf course architecture is how the the player and the ball interact with the land much more so than how the “hiker” interacts with the land.