The Ultimate Golf Jet-A-Way

Written by: Dr. Ken Forsythe	3:44 PM PST - 3/10/2009
Photography by:	|  Next Photo

'Hey, Bob!' A senior exec at PG&E and a former, nearly pro golfer from college days, I was a little surprised to get him late on a Thursday afternoon in what I knew had to be a busy week.

'I thought we were playing Whitney this weekend? Where are we goin'? I could hear the smile in his voice. 

'Bandon Dunes, buddy, Frank & Paula are in … We play Pacific Dunes Saturday at 11 and then Bandon on Sunday at a very pleasant 0900. Time for breakfast, sleep, etc. Oh, yeah, caddies and all other already arranged … ' 

Remember John, a.k.a., the 'Captain'? Bob averred remembering his meeting with my friend and long time patient earlier this summer. The 'Captain' referred to is a Southwest Airlines pilot, former Marine with two tours in Vietnam in F-4s, incredibly keen golfer, and now part time pilot for a few friends with airplanes that liked to go to interesting places. Bandon Dunes qualifies big-time. 

The 'Captain' was taking a new King Air 350 up to Bandon to play with and collect some friends who owned the plane. He'd be overnight in Coos Bay, the nearest FBO [airport] for the center, and then be empty except for us back on Sunday late afternoon. That meant that we would be getting a major discount on this super-golf-weekend. Bottom line was that it was going to be right next to first class pricing with half the time and probably ten times the fun. 

We all showed up promptly for wheels-up at 0700. That was a good thing because one of our party, who shall forever be nameless, has a tendency to arrive just a tad late for our outings. They didn't know the 'Captain'. 

Bags onboard, the four of us happily ensconced in plush 8-cabin seating, the door “thwunked” shut at six-fifty-five and I'm pretty sure we were airborne at 0700. Considering the remarkable history of this aviation icon - started by Walter and Olive Beech in 1932 and sold to Raytheon in 1979 after achieving best-of-best status worldwide - the flight was just as expected - butter. A clearance our Captain got to drop down for a close fly-by of Mt. Shasta in its 14,000 foot elegance was amazing. I'd only seen Shasta from the bottom up; top down was hugely spectacular. 

A little over an hour later we dropped in to our FBO, North Bend Municipal airport, about 25 miles from the golf resort. With Enterprise pickup and enterprising care, we were 'spikeson' at Bandon by around 9:30. Just enough time to comfortably check-in, get our caddies and warm-up. 

I'd never played Bandon, but of course had heard about this curious reincarnation of ancient golf traditions along the south coast of Oregon. In terms of out-of-the-way, you have to think of Harriman and Sun Valley in the mid-1930s, Livingston in Africa, or Hillary in the Himalaya. You get it. This place is a destination, and like those others, refreshing and inspirational are the words that come to mind. 

When owner Mike Keiser asked course architect David Kidd what he would do with this pristine property on the Pacific Coast, Kidd said, “No real estate, no golf carts and no clubhouse on the beach.” That was that, and that's what it is. It's a seascape golf links, a soul-satisfying amble in the sun with lots of breeze and, oh, the inescapable gorse flora. 

Gorse? Don't hit your ball there. Or, if you do, forget about it. When Aesop mentioned briar patches, he had no idea what Scottish gorse might do to a rabbit, let alone a wayward golfer. This stuff makes San Quentin razor-wire look like Kleenex. Guess what separates most of the fairways. Right, it's gorse. 

Anyway, we played Bandon's sister course - or is it brother - the first day. Pacific Dunes is a little to the north of the Bandon course and rolls along the dunes for what seems like a relatively modest 6600 yards from the back tees. Try adding 3 clubs of wind and then re-calibrate. I think when we played, Katrina was doing a Pacific warm-up. You had to talk to people down-wind. Nobody was any good at sign language so other gestures sufficed. Happily for the mirth and merriment of all, our lifetime looper Larry regaled us with one story after another about bag-carrying days in his native Scotland, on the PGA and ultimately at Bandon. We all shot larger 2-digit scores than we liked but with 19th hole beer sipping, Larry's Highland brogue and gazing out over a setting sun on the rolling links and sand, all agreed: 'Yeah! We get this!' 

On the drive to Bandon on Sunday morning, it struck me again. This really is St Andrews, USA. I played the Old Course about 10 years ago, and absent the ancient buildings and architecture, the nature of southwestern Oregon is absolutely old Scotland. This morning, the sun was delightfully bright, the wind was delightfully calm, and our scores were delightfully decreased.

Our by-now good buddy Larry came to the airport for a last beer, hail farewell, and the softening light of a late summer day on the horizon. I climbed the stairway reluctantly for our return. On board, smiles beamed from all occupied seats.