Archives for September, 2009

Piper’s Heath, Milton, Ontario

Piper’s Heath is a relative youngster among Greater Toronto golf courses, but its charm is decidedly old-school. Renowned architect Graham Cooke designed the course antithetically to the superficial postcard-type courses one now finds everywhere, and the results are, in a word, lovely. Dave, Rob, Andrew and I played the course on a gorgeous June morning, and it won us over from the opening hole not by artifice or pretense but via the seductive combination of simple beauty, an interesting layout, and a deferential nod to nature that plays much better than an architect’s stamp urgently announcing itself on every hole. Even the fact that my new putter cost me countless extra strokes wasn’t enough to dampen my mood.
  
A number of designers have recently tried to find ways to design links-style courses here in the North American landscape. Developed out of a big piece of flat Ontario farmland, Piper’s gets it completely right, both in look and feel. Cooke didn’t cut down the four-hundred-year-old ancient oaks that stood like sentinels on the land, he designed the course around them. These, along with numerous other elements, like the New Zealand black swans, deep pot bunkers, fescue-covered mounds, grassy hollows and undulating fairways—not to mention the, ahem, challenging breezes that greet you at every turn—help the course achieve something elusive on this side of the pond: the feeling that you’re playing not on the Canadian Shield but somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. It was no small effort; Cooke and his team moved nearly a million cubic meters of earth to create wave-like mounds throughout the course that help conjure the feeling of St. Andrews and its ilk. I find myself often comparing the allure of a golf course to the allure of women. To me, courses whose main features are their picturesque fountains, gleaming clubhouses and lightning-fast greens can make powerful momentary impressions, not unlike a woman made up to the nines, but give me an interesting course whose surprising charms I discover along the way, and I’m hooked.

From right to left, me, Dave, Rob and Andrew, ready to tear up the course—literally.  The ball retriever Rob is holding will prove the most important tool of the day.

Dave assessing a challenging sand lie at the fourth.

Dave taking a practice swing and trying to convince himself he has an angle to the hole.

Dave measuring how close his ball is to the lip.

I don’t remember exactly what Andrew was saying here, but I believe it translated to “Doesn’t matter what you try, it’s hopeless.”

Dave finally hitting out. Andrew was right; it was hopeless.

Dave hitting out of another trap two holes later. If he doesn’t see sand again in his lifetime, he’ll be thrilled.

Andrew lining up his second shot at the sixth out of high grass…

 

…and hitting tentatively out. This was a good shot; it got him back to within three miles of the proper fairway.

Dave looking for his ball among the fescue on eight.

 

Me looking for my ball among the fescue on nine. Did I mention I hate fescue? 

Cart girl extraordinaire Brittany. No, really, she’s one of the special ones.

Rob felt it would be amusing to take this picture. I’m trying to remember why I’m friends with these guys.

 

The divot that resulted from my attempted 5-iron at the eleventh. The ball went about as far as I could throw an anvil.

 

Dave and Rob, amused with themselves after loosening the straps on my bag and making it fall off the cart for the umpteenth time in the round. Like I said, I’m still trying to figure out why I’m friends with these guys.

 

Rob showing off the swing that would make any lumberjack proud.

 

Me teeing off at thirteen. There is no possible way to describe just how severely I sliced this ball.

 

Dave teeing off at fourteen. Even his shadow has nicer form than mine. I despise him.

 

The pot bunker in the middle of the sixteenth fairway. Yes, my ball found it.

STARTING AND FINISHING HOLES
The first at Piper’s Heath, a 407-yard par 4 from the blues, lets you know immediately you’re in for both a treat and a challenge. Get past the large lake running nearly half the distance of the hole up the right side and you still might find the lurking fairway bunkers. It’s no accident that three out of the four of us carded 8’s. The second hole, deceptive and snake-like, conveys something equally meaningful: you aren’t often going to encounter consecutive holes that feel the same.

The finishing run is pleasurable and keeps you working for your score until the last putt is sunk. Sixteen is a reachable par-3 and rated the easiest hole on the course, but get lazy or overconfident and you’re going to be punished. It must be said that my foursome is made up of putrid golfers in general, but still. The 17th is a short but tricky par-4 in the same vein as 16. Consider your shots a little longer than you think you need to. Eighteen, a slender monster at over 500 yards, brings you back home the same way you left—soaking in a course that has a little touch of magic.

OVERALL AESTHETICS
Piper’s Heath is a true aesthetic treat, but akin to the way an accomplished still life stirs you, as opposed to the more shallower and more fleeting satisfaction of a paint-by-numbers done well.  The course’s various features mix gracefully and harmoniously, hearkening to the elements that make links courses so seductive: fairways that rise and fall, hollows ringing the greens, bunkers hiding in unsuspecting corners, wide corridors, plateaued greens, and plenty of grasses happy to eat your ball when you aren’t looking—or, sometimes, even when you are.

REAR VIEWS
The course’s rear views offer the best testimony to its diverse design. Back-facing scenes change on almost every hole.

TRACK
This is a highly walkable, subtly dramatic, distinctly crafted course. Some courses feel jumpy or jarring, with moments of consistent rhythm interrupted by those when you feel you’ve lost the thread. The best-designed courses, like the best-written books, catch you up in their flow from the first instance and keep you there until it’s over. Piper’s Heath is a shining example of the latter. There’s a decent chance even my dad wouldn’t find anything to complain about here.

“NICE HOLE” FACTOR
While the impression of Piper’s Heath is more an overall one than that cast by individual holes, there are plenty of memorable moments, in particular the three-hole stretch in the middle of the back nine: the par-3 thirteenth that demands you carry a valley (I didn’t), the par-4 fourteenth requiring you to avoid a wide bunker off an elevated tee and then execute a perfect long iron to reach the plateaued green (nope), and the Goliath fifteenth, a 585-yard dogleg featuring the kind of wetlands that prompt a critical decision should your ball land in them: accept the penalty stroke or drench my new FootJoys.

DEGREE OF DIFFICULTY
The type of golf course I most admire is the type that challenges but doesn’t demoralize. Piper’s Heath achieves this delicate balance and caters to games of varying levels, with tee blocks ranging from 5,000 to 7,000 yards. It also pleasantly avoids the driver-followed-by-mid-iron repetitiveness of many modern courses, in which most par 4’s feel interchangeable. At Piper’s you’re going to need to employ your fairway woods (if you can hit them), your pitch-and-run (if you can perform one), your course management (if that means anything to you), and your green-reading skills (if they exist).

The most prevalent factor, and the one that will play the biggest role in your club selection, is the wind. Don’t try to plan your round for a calm day, because a calm day wherever you’re coming from probably isn’t a calm day at Piper’s. The wind was present from the moment we teed off at the first—one of the chief reasons I started the round 8-7-8, which tends not to set things up for an impressive score. Not that my score didn’t make an impression. Just, you know, the wrong kind of impression. Course designer Cooke estimates that the wind can alter shots by as much as seven clubs on certain holes. I said he’s a talented designer, not a kind one.

COURSE MARSHALS
The entire staff at Piper’s Heath, from the girls at the front desk to the men roaming the course in their carts, have the right conception of customer service. They’re there to help you have an enjoyable day, contrasting pleasantly with other courses whose marshals see themselves as Louis Gossett Jr.’s character in An Officer and a Gentleman.

PRO SHOP AND AMENITIES
Piper’s Heath is a first-class facility. There’s a 20-acre double-ended practice academy with a two-tiered tee deck, a smaller teeing area for lessons and larger clinics with a series of target greens and traps, a chipping green, a practice bunker, and a putting area the size of Australia. An attractive clubhouse, service with a smile, clean-as-a-whistle bathrooms. A day at Piper’s is a great day.

BANG FOR YOUR BUCK
The Gruehl family, long-time landowners and residential developers in Milton since its urban expansion, made it their mission to provide quality golf at an affordable price when they opened Piper’s Heath. At $89 per round, they’ve done a lot to achieve this end. If you want to get a taste of links-style golf without putting too big a dent in the wallet, Piper’s is your best bet in or around Toronto. By contrast, Eagles Nest, approximately the same quality and in the same general vicinity, will run you $185. Enough said.

My Bag

It’s been a few months since I’ve swung a golf club (outside my living room), and it will be a few weeks before I’m in Florida seeking out some new courses while at the same time trying not to be devoured by gators.

Normally this hiatus would have me in the kind of funk experienced by all northern-latitude golfers between November and April. But the usual symptoms aren’t affecting me this year, for three reasons:

1) Winter in Toronto this year has been just the kind of winter one hopes for: great heaps of snow since early December with temperatures just south of zero degrees – in other words, cold enough to make you remember why a perfect winter day is better than any other day in any other season, but not so cold that you can’t take the kids tobogganing for fear that they’ll come back with their features permanently set.

2) The NHL season has been nothing short of outstanding thus far, making it much easier to endure the golf interruption. I can’t understand why Americans have never taken to hockey. It demands unquestionably the most complex skill set of any professional team sport, harnessed at higher speeds (unless you count downhill skiing a professional team sport – which you shouldn’t). It is the only sport that combines the balletic grace of basketball with the elemental, and undeniably gripping, violence of football. The athleticism, passion and resilience of its players rival that of any other sport’s competitors. (Don’t believe me? Play a 48-minute basketball game, a 60-minute football game and a 60-minute hockey game, and then tell me which leaves you more wrecked.) The best hockey plays are just as jaw-dropping as the best highlight-reel dunk or Hail Mary pass. (Here’s evidence: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQOmJ09Pg58.) Like I said, I just don’t get it. NASCAR has zillions of devotees, but hockey can’t buy a viewer? It’s beyond me.

3) My new golf bag. I’ve been using the same bag for…ever, and last season, during a dawn photo shoot I was doing for Golf Canada in which I somehow agreed to wade waist-deep into a water hazard, the old nylon Wilson got quite muddied, turning its pervious faded-ivory to a tone best described as Gray Extra Dull.

I took that as the sign that I deserved a new golf bag, or at least that I should tip off my wife that it would make a great birthday present. (I’m pretty sure I also deserve new clubs, but I can’t come up with a reason why.) The big day came, the ice cream cake was brought out (that’s one point for the wife), the sports channel was put on (that’s two), and then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted it: something wrapped in the unmistakable form of a golf bag, or maybe a Chinese contortionist pretending to be one. My sons helped me tear off the paper, and though I believe they were disappointed a four-foot-high transformer wasn’t revealed, my eyes lit up at the Datrek Iron Cart Bag before me.

This is a tremendous golf bag, one sure to transform my game. On the label is an animated picture of a musclebound, striated golfer having completed a beautiful follow-through. He looks nothing like me, but that shouldn’t matter. Just check out these features:

• Integrated Putter Sleeve
• 14 Individual Divider System
• New Ball Drop Design
• Insulated Cooler Pocket

I know, it shouldn’t even be legal. And I’m not finished. It’s got all this, too:

• New Dual Slope 14-Way IDS Top Design
• Individual Full Length Dividers
• 11 Convenient Pockets
• Vibrant Tone-on-Tone Colorways
• Integrated Cart Strap Pass Thru

You can’t compete with a bag like this. I’m looking forward to the expressions on my playing partners’ faces when I break it out for that first round of the season a few months from now. Will the gawk-worthy moment happen in the parking lot, me slowly lifting the bag out of the trunk, their faces blanching with envy? Will it happen in the clubhouse, them having arrived first, me casually entering, the bag slung jauntily over my shoulder? On the practice range, me the early arrival, them noticing the bag after a few minutes but unable to say anything, me grinning in smug satisfaction? I’m busting.

There is, of course, the matter of my game, which remains, in a word, superbad. But I just can’t see myself playing poorly with a bag like this. Now, I know what you’re thinking: IJ, the quality of your golf bag has nothing to do with how you play. And I’ll be honest: I just don’t even know how to answer that.