For anyone fortunate enough to take an overseas golf trip to Scotland or Ireland, or even to stay in North America and make it to Bandon Dunes or Cabot, you know that there likely is no amount of rain, wind or cold that will keep you off of the course. You’ve planned it, taken the time off and invested in expensive rain gear, so you’re going to play whatever it takes, damn it. Several years ago, I was on an August trip through Northern Ireland, where we sidetracked into Ireland to play Ballyliffin, a club with two courses in the far north, hard on the North Atlantic. To say the weather the day we spent at Ballyliffin was awful was a true understatement. It was miserable, bitter cold, wind and rain – everything we had heard Ireland golf could be in August and that we hoped it wouldn’t. And encounter it we did, but we also didn’t let it stop us as we slogged through not just the first 18 but went back out for 18 more punishing ones. Mercifully, the pro shop handed us not only dry scorecards for the second loop but also several complimentary miniature bottles of Irish whiskey for each of us.
Even though it was at times miserable, I can’t say that we didn’t somewhat revel in the conditions, as we could forever say we had experienced true Irish golf. But as we tried to manufacture swings throughout the day, I felt sorry for our caddies who had to plod along with us with bags that were getting heavier and heavier with each new drop of water absorbed. My caddy was a local lad who claimed he was a low single handicap. After several holes where I likely struggled to make meaningful contact with the ball, I asked him what he would shoot in those conditions. He laughed, looked at me with water dripping off of his hat and said, “I would never play in these conditions, mate. I’m only here because you’re here, and I’m getting paid to do this.” Needless to say, I made sure that I tipped him well.
Over the years, though, I’ve thought about his comment and while it strays somewhat from the norm as most golfers in the British Isles do play through rain, wind and cold (in my caddy’s defense, the weather that day in Ballyliffin was pretty extreme – Saturday at the 2002 Open at Muirfield extreme), it unfortunately is the approach taken by many here at home in the U.S. Thunder and lightning aside – nobody should ever attempt to play through when their safety is in question – most of us are somewhat soft when it comes to playing rounds in rain and wind. Of course anyone would rather play on a cloudless 70 degree day with a light breeze, but when the weather turns for the worse, many of us turn around and stay indoors. And maybe that’s not the best approach.
Kiawah and Bonnie
For most of my life, I was the same way. Light drizzle was ok, but heavier rain kept my clubs in the car. Over the past few years, though, I’ve started to try and keep my appointed tee times no matter the weather, sometimes to a fault. As with that day in Ballyliffin, I’ve also found these rounds to be some of my most memorable ones. I may not remember a random mid-season round on a daily fee course with calm conditions, but my rounds in inclement weather tend to stick with me.
Aside from Ireland, it started five years ago at an outing I was signed up for at the Ocean Course on Kiawah Island, where it actually didn’t rain. The problem was that a rare May preseason tropical storm, Bonnie, sat off of the coast battering the area with strong rains and wind the day and night before our event. Gradually and then somewhat en masse, participants looked at the conditions and forecast and pulled the plug on playing. I had driven down that day for a dinner in Charleston and golf the next day, so I tried to remain optimistic, citing the noon shotgun start and the tendency for storms to blow through fairly quickly once they hit land. I really wanted to get in that 18 on the Ocean, so I held pat and said I would play, but prospects didn’t look good.
I awoke the next morning in Charleston to continued strong winds and pretty serious squalls, but the satellite maps seemed to show that skies were starting to clear up south of us. I packed up the car for the drive out to Kiawah, and as I reached the island, I hit a pretty strong downpour that made me question my choice. But since I had gotten that far, I kept on for the drive out to the Ocean Course. When I pulled into the driveway, I saw the first signs of the skies clearing, but the winds were still strong, even for Ocean Course standards. I was greeted by two others – only three of us out of probably 16 foursomes had decided to stay and try and play. The course was ours if we wanted it, so we said what the hell and headed out. And while my game struggled in the wind, we made the right decision. Aside from the wind, waterlogged bunkers and the saturated course, we had an incredible afternoon – only a few drops of rain fell on us throughout the entire round, and the sun came out for most of the back nine. Technically, the storm made landfall earlier that morning, and even though it had been downgraded to a tropical depression, nobody is going to take away the round I played on a course with origins tied to a hurricane in the midst of a tropical storm.
Pinehurst and Matthew
Over the next few years I made an effort not to abandon plans for golf in inclement weather or forecasts of such (and by inclement weather, I mean such weather during the normal mid-Atlantic golf season, so this does not translate into playing through ice and snow – I do have limits). Even if the forecast called for solid downpours, I would try not to cancel. As a DC area resident involved in government affairs, two of us had planned to play 18 on a recent Election Day. We even finagled our way as unaccompanied guests at a private course, but the day dawned with a forecast of solid rain. And while the forecast unfortunately was accurate, we still went out (my partner’s water-absorbing cotton-denominated outfit still makes me laugh) – even though it was clear we were the only ones on the course, we were committed (maybe at times we should be committed). Months later, I attended a conference where a number of people usually play golf before the event gets going. With solid rain and chilly winds pounding the area, everyone bailed, but I trudged through 18. Pride, badge of honor, whatever, I have no idea, but I worked to keep up this commitment to play through the rain.
A few years ago I had an October trip planned to Pinehurst to play the recently-renovated #4 course at the resort. But as the trip got closer, so did the track of another tropical storm, this time the remnants of massive Hurricane Matthew that only a day before had devastated parts of the Florida panhandle. Matthew was moving quickly through the Carolinas, so with my Ocean Course experience top of mind, I decided that by the time I got to the Sandhills, Matthew would be gone. So I drove south into the storm, through squalls and winds as I got closer to Pinehurst. Along the way, my partner for #4 (a Pinehurst resident and member) bailed, so I was on my own if I decided to venture out for 18 that afternoon. When I pulled into my hotel parking lot, rain was still falling but I checked the radar and thought it still looked like it would end soon.
It was now early afternoon but given it was October, daylight was limited. I called the resort to see about getting out on #4 but they said it was basically closed, and while I probably could have gone out on another course there (but not #2), I instead called around to see where else I could play. I settled on Mid Pines, a Donald Ross design that also had recently been renovated, but one I had never played. Most importantly, it was open, so I headed over. I could tell the pro shop folks thought I was crazy as I went out with a comment about how it looked like the rain was ending soon. Unfortunately, my amateur meteorology had not taken into account rain bands swirling back around and hitting the area again. So, it rained pretty much most of my Mid Pines 18, not to mention the tropical storm force winds that occasionally gusted and a few times sent limbs falling to the course. Probably not the safest 18, but there was no lightning, and I nodded to the Ballyliffin scotch and tucked a few mini bottles of bourbon in my bag at the turn to help me through the last nine. The rain finally abated as I played the last few holes and a few rays of sun even shone through as the remnants of Matthew moved away. I have no idea how I scored, but it was an experience I will never forget, again proving that memorable golf doesn’t depend on perfect or even mediocre weather or conditions.
Not All is Lost
Late last year, after finally getting schedules aligned, three of us were able to set aside a day for 36 holes. As with best laid plans sometimes, the weather didn’t cooperate and the forecast was for 100% rain throughout the day. But none of us used that as an excuse to bail, and we all showed up at the course as planned. Through relentless rain, we teed off (of course there were breakfast balls) and trekked around the course. On the back nine, I unfortunately started seeing emails from work that demanded more of my attention and time. So after we walked off of the 18th, even if the clouds had parted and the sun had shone down, it was clear my golf was done for the day. But while I smiled and a tear rolled down my face (likely imagined) as I saw my partners dry off and get ready for their second 18, I was secretly jealous. And as I drove off into the rain with my desire to play through squelched by reality and not a lack of desire, I realized that maybe not everyone here is soft, and that there are those who will play on regardless of the conditions. My only regret is that I didn’t send them off on that second loop with mini bottles of whiskey.
