Peru Disc Golf 2009 (post WILL contain an ace)

We arrive, bags loaded...

But let's go Big Picture first:

SIX ROUNDS: (2 Pieradise, 3 Honeybear Hollow, 1 Maconaquah)

Sean: 5 wins, 1 second place.
Mark: 1 win, 4 second place, 1 third.
Rob: 4 third (including a tie with Andy), 2 fourth
Andy: 1 second, 2 third (including a tie with Rob), 3 fourth

[Note these tallies (especially the 3, 4 positions might be one round off. I did not get round three (the initial Honey Hollow round) scorecard. Andy, Rob, Mark, do you have it? I know I won the round, but other places might up for grabs? This might be critical to Mark and Andy. Did Andy get second this round? We need the scorecard.)]

My big picture impressions:

Sean: Game is pretty sharp. AZ trip helped me. Need to work on putting. Missed many make-able short putts. Drives good, not great at this point. Driving accuracy pretty solid. Most of my scoring came on parking drives or mid-range discs for birdies. I did hit more trees than I would like. I need to hit less trees.

Mark: Game is sharp. Putting OK. Makes most every short putt. Like Sean, not many long-ass putts going down (though some--Sean made no long putts, period). Approaches very crisp, many runs at basket. Drives good, not great at this point. If Mark cuts out the low, short drives (worm-burners) his drive game is spot on.

Andy: Drive is good, often excellent. Forehand really improved. Seems Andy is adding a few tech skill-shots to his arsenal. Needs to crisp up the putting stroke. Andy loses strokes near the basket, not far out.

Rob: The drive is solid, but the hammer-throw (usually a lethal strength) a bit off. The long putt is damn near amazing. I'd say Rob made ten looong putts in 6 rounds. Impressive. Rob actually led at the turn (after 9 holes) in many rounds, but then would fade on the back 9.

OK, let's blog this thang...



Let's get some plastic, folks. This is Allen Pier's (a kind, wonderful disc golf advocate and owner of his own amazing course) pro shop. He has all kinds of sick discs, specialty items, weird plastic, stamps and crazy tourney discs and so on.

Wonder if anyone grabbed anything cool for Ander...? I guess he'll have to wait and see.

Round 1 of the Visit, Pieradise:

Mark is in the mother-fucking zone!!



(OK, not technically Pieradise [this is honey] but a shot of Mark's sweet follow-through)

I shit you not. He grabs the lead, keeps the lead, kisses all our sad selves goodbye. Mark is the star of this round.

Mark: +1 for the big win!
Sean: +6 for second place.
Rob: +7 right behind Sean.
Andy: + 9 right behind Rob and Sean.

What I Remember: Mark dominated. Very impressive round. Sean a bit nervous (I should know), hit trees, missed putts. Rob even at turn, then got a little loose. Andy with many bogies, but did throw in two birdies. Sean wiped out on hole 15, crumpling into a pile and grabbing his L knee after his drive. Mark almost killed a disc golfer on the same hole, as the dude walked right into our fairway as Mark let go his drive. Lots of action.

After the round, Sean is steaming inside so just gets quiet. He needs a beer. It is now after 12 (noon), so Sean is allowed to drink beer. He downs one, grabs three more and shoves them in his bag.

D golf tip: Ander showed me a new great beer for disc golf. Super light. Really hydrates and allows a buzz.

Round 2 of the Visit, Pieradise:

Get your popcorn ready. Showtime very soon.

Sean: +1 for the win.
Mark: +3 for second.
Rob: +7 for third.
Andy: + 9 (again) for third.

WIR: Well, I (sean) is blogging this, but whomever, I hope the highlight of the round is clear. See this hole? It is hole 12 of Pieradise. It is 230 feet, narrow drive, up a huge-ass embankment. Why am I standing on this tee pad smiling, holding up one finger?


From here...


To there!!

ACE ACE ACE ACE ACE ACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Having good pals as witnesses, very sweet. Thanks guys. Nuff said.

Round 3 of the Visit, Honey Hollow:

This is the mysterious lost scorecard. I know I won, and I think Mark mentioned he got 3rd here, with Andy 2nd. I could certainly be wrong. So as for scores, sorry.

Honey Hollow was, uh, insane. It is a campground and it is Memorial Day Weekend. Wow. The D golf was excellent, but the other D golfers? Again--wow.



(Irony alert. Honey H loves rules. Signs everywhere. But no one follows any rules here. It's like the rules are an affront to these people.)

WIR:

* Young girl on bicycle pedaling directly up our fairways. Her dad says, "How you guys doing?" Note the sign above concerning bikes on the course.
* Drunk woman leaves cooler at our T pad. I yell to her and she hikes back to get the cooler. Then, on her way back to her tee pad, she wipes out, much to the delight of her drunk boyfriend. They embrace in glee.
* People drive on us, once, twice, three times. Discs whip over our heads. Thunk through the trees above us. Clank off garbage cans and T pads. We do not hear the word "Fore." Two drunk guys show up and proclaim, "We are going to drive on top of everyone." OK. Great play, gentleman. I wish you un-well.
* We witness our first 12-some. Twelve players, one T pad. A whole lot of Miller Lite.
* Lots of bad tattoos.

Having said all of this, the disc golf was rad. Hammer time!



(Rob's patented hammer. Do not attempt at home.)

Round 4 of the Visit, Honey Hollow:

Sean: -6 for the win.
Mark: -1 for second.
Andy: +1 for third.
Rob: + 2 for fourth.

WIR: Our finest round of the day, as a group. I am beery now and so went way low. Mark goes under too. Rob and Andy battle it out with fine scores. We had star birdies in this round, many star pars. Good work guys.



Classic Honey Hollow shot. If Mark leans back, he will tumble to his death. Good save, Mark. Believe me, he made the putt.

Round 5 of the Visit, Honey Hollow:

Sean: -1 for the win.
Mark: +2 for second.
Rob: +4 for third.
Andy: + 7 for fourth.

WIR: We are pretty tired by this time, but Hollow is short (and very techy) so the arms are OK. I don't remember too much, except the course was more crowded, but with a more "good-natured" grouping of campers (I will not call them golfers here).


Andy drops it like it's hot. Big Honey Hollow downhill.

We head to the hotel. We rest (we're going to need it). We wake. We play...

Round 6 of the Visit, Maconaquah Park:

Sean: +6 for the win.
Mark: +9 for second.
Rob: +12 for third.
Andy: + 12 for third.

Did I mention the LONG tees were in today? Did I mention the water?



Oh, that's where my drive went.

WIR: I've never seen this course with these pins, and this is possibly the hardest course I have played (excluding the Lemmon Course in Tucson). EVERY shot was a challenge, with drives over water (often two creeks), elevation changes everywhere, and most every putt was on the side of a severe hill with baked dirt floor. We had discs roll 100 feet. We had people shooting 6s and 7s! We had many, many splash shots. Rob planted a drive over a tall fence and into a giant baseball field! Sweetness.

To sum up the course in these long pin placements, I will repeat what I said the whole round, "Oh man, I wish Ander could be here for this."

Hole 18 was a dream or maybe nightmare. Drive over water into landing area. Approach shot (turnover or forehand) over water into "green" of hillside rolling into creek. Every shot on the hole is thought-provoking, challenging, risk/reward, a tad crazy--a microcosm of the course.

WHAT A TRIP!

Thanks to Rob and Andy for driving down. All went well. Scores were low and high and low. I think the course beat us more than the other way, but some great disc golf all around.

See you jags in Mad Town soon.

S

Added bonus: Disc Golf in the /Oxford American/

Friends, if you care, here's the full text of an article I wrote about Bowers Park, one of my favorite disc golf courses, in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. It's coming out in the new issue of the Oxford American, which is a southern mass-market semi-literary magazine. It's their Best of the South issue. Of course you're obliged to include a paragraph on the rules of disc golf in any piece you write about it, which is kind of annoying. The actual published version is a little different in that they cut some stuff for space, which sucks.

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ODE TO DISC GOLF
by Ander Monson

Drive into Bowers Park just off I-20/59 in Tuscaloosa, off the McFarland exit, and you will not be impressed: long expanses of grass, kids, dogs, beer, bugs, space, girls, sin, Frisbees, heat. You’ve been to parks before, right?

But be assured: This course, this disc golf course (not to be played with Frisbees, a brand of recreational disc made by Wham-O, but with discs designed specifically for disc golf, a different game by far; disc golf is to Frisbee as PGA Golf is to putt-putt) is a killer, probably not a good choice if you’ve never played this entirely kick-ass game before, if you like milk in your coffee, Zimas in the evening. If you’re new to all things disc, try George Ward park in Birmingham. Like Birmingham itself and the urban South, it’s more civilized, shiny, citified, ruined. Bowers Park, (unfortunately not named after poet Neal Bowers) is for the serious, the Marines, actual fans of the Chicago Cubs, the British Open, an easy war in Afghanistan. This is what defines disc golf: Bowers Park in Tuscaloosa circa 2003. So spin up the flux capacitor. Go to the dance. Don’t kiss your mother and steal her heart away.

Tuscaloosa is the site of several golf-related bests: The best mini-golf I’ve played in the South, Bama Mini Golf, with thirty-six holes, replete with sand traps and water hazards, no bullshit windmills or hokey obstacles in sight; the best and most half-assed ball golf course in the South, Mimosa Park, featuring long-horned bulls wandering confusedly around the fairways, basically unputtable “greens” cut into said fairways with weed-whackers, a thousand angry geese who nest off the shitty “greens” and attack all comers who might want to even try to putt inaccurately toward the hole, and a lot of drunken shirtless assholes—myself included—playing slowly and badly through the spring mornings, shanking balls out onto oncoming traffic on I-20/59, all for five dollars to play, as far as I can tell, as many holes as you like for as long as you like, including, but not limited to, forever). Something about Tuscaloosa gives rise to this shambling and essential loveliness. It is sadness. It is purgatory for real athletes. It is Richard Yates’s later years. It is where you learn to give up, or give in, and eat some ribs and become one with the earth.

But for disc golf, Bowers is essential. The first three holes are a first kiss. They stretch out in fields, easy, pleasing, visible, playable, among straight rows of pines, a tongue piercing, a promise.

But know this first before going: Wear long pants, no matter how hot it is. You might want a parka, poncho, a pack mule, a warrior penguin, or a Dungeon Master’s Screen to protect you. Get out of the car. Give up all hope, ye, etc. Bring some water. Maybe a couple beers. Bring a tank full of DEET. Probably a couple days of judicious napalm before playing would improve your score.

The rules for disc golf are the same as ball golf. You throw a shot, however you want: forehand, backhand, thumber, hammer, reverse hammer, turbo-putt, upside down, backwards. Your shot sucks and is punished. You throw your next shot from the location of your first shot (no more than 22 centimeters from the front of where your disc resides). This shot is also punished. You hit several trees. You end up deep in rough, or in water (penalty stroke for the latter, or for OB, or any unplayable lie). Eventually you putt into a chain-link basket rising up from the ground (or in odd cases suspended from tree limbs). Play all holes as par 3 or be mocked. Learn to love the double-bogey.

Even after they’d put in the baskets on the front nine and stakes to mark the location of the back nine holes and started to organize the chaos, the course was more theoretical than actual. Hole seven was simply a wall of trees with a basket on the other side. There was no fairway, no green, no place to throw your disc. It was like every battle scene in Lord of the Rings. It was ridiculous. Actionable. A welt on a model’s face. I purchased an axe from the slowest-shopping Super Wal-Mart I have ever seen, staffed entirely by amputees after 11P.M, and used it to cut down no less than forty trees to make a disc-sized path through the wall. I returned the axe to Wal-Mart, my arms limp, my fingers ringing with work. I was berated by the amputee at the returns desk for my weak arms, my haircut, and my northern accent.

I returned to the course to get in one more round. The next day I was harassed by locals for making the hole “playable.” This is the ethos of disc golf, ball golf, and maybe all things in the non-urban South. It is a DIY experience. It’s the early days of civilization. It is free. There are no beer carts. There are no pro shops. You make do. After the first three holes, the course goes like this: beautiful, interesting, diabolical, subtle, insane. The rough is poison ivy and other malicious plants I do not care to identify. The deep rough is impenetrable trees staffed by poisonous and ornery wildlife. Past the rough are the Swamps of Sadness from which discs do not return unless you are entirely righteous, which is not likely. One hole plays two hundred fifty feet along and across a creek perforated with gnarls of thorned bushes to rival jumping cholla, the Arizona cacti that move through the air to penetrate your arm and curl their spines like fishhooks or dreams into your body, seeking blood. If you put your disc in the water, it’s a penalty stroke and you might be injured going in to get it, not to mention the water moccasins. Yet, you will go and get it. You are a disc golfer.

Needless to say, the course is totally fucking great.

I played with my friends Ehling, Eliot, and Sean, other grad students at Alabama looking to vary our weekly punishments from workshop. Because of Bowers, I think of them as brothers. Ehling didn’t make it out, unfortunately. I still think of him when I hoist my KC Pro Roc ace disc that split in half on the third hole one winter morning (if you’re wondering, the rule is that you must play your next shot from the largest remaining piece of disc). I pour a little of my Bell’s Two Hearted Ale on the first tee of every round I play to remember him and the lack of good beer in Tuscaloosa.

The description of Bowers park in the Professional Disc Golf Association’s online course directory is “fun and challenging.”

Used condoms litter the rough, stretched out like snakeskins. Someone had some fun here before dying, or maybe they were raptured in the act. Broken glass and litter surround trash cans as if to say we understand the idea but reject it. Occasionally you’ll find teenagers having sex on blankets on the cart paths between holes, haloed by cheap beer and clouds of flies. Their bodies glisten in the little light that makes it through the trees. Do not disturb, taunt, or feed them.
Like your own teenage years, your round will be primal, confusing, a kind of ritual humiliation. It is good to know your limitations, you will find. These experiences build character, hair chest, fortitude, masculinity (even if you are not a man). You learn discretion, manners, how to retreat judiciously, how much to burn to the ground and when to burn it. Bowers will be your finishing school.

This course, this barely tamed forest, will not remember me. The nicks in the bark of the cottonwoods left by repeated application of discs at high speeds will vanish soon enough, the bark of the cottonwoods gnawed off by thousand-toothed night beasts, the small seeds shaken down from my discs’ impacts eaten by birds. If I died here, I would be so soon consumed that it would be as if I was never there at all, and I would haunt this place, particularly hole ten, forever, my clothes shreds, my welts bright and growing, glowing in the dark. So much do they pain me, my plaints weakening, as I plod on trying to get up and down for par.
Note: it is not possible.

You would do better to forget it. There is no par. There is no course. It exists only in memory, beautiful and unattainable.

The staff at the Books-a-Million a mile away did not recognize the name Flannery O’Connor when I asked them to direct me to her stories. That’s okay. Come down to Bowers park for an education. Pick up a couple Wal-Mart night employees on the way. I’ll bring the axes and the beer.

My Mount Lemmon Disc Report

We need a sign. Here is one.

Only one way up the mountain...

Well, here are my excuses:

1.) It was fucking hot.
2.) My toe was infected. So I was on drugs.
3.) Snakes, dust, tequila, holy saguaro.
4.) Ander made me drink beer.

Also, if you add total strokes, for 6 rounds, 3 days, Ander finished 4 strokes ahead.

Ok, that sound whiny. I'm now done whining. Dude beat me, OK? Protected his hot house. And to be honest, he often pulled shots on 18, or other clutch, and that's how he beat me. So kudos. Etc.

Did I mention cacti?















Another beaten metal day, sultry, like inferior heroin, or Werner Herzog the day he was shot while giving an interview.



Heat piled on heat, the blue eye of the sky glaring, feverish with ill will; headaches hammer; sand becoming animate, grasping, swirling--alive. The desert is a dessicated whore. Every aspect is with harmful intent, not even recognized in its total oblivion of life; it just is. Like a stone. A flood-washed board of nails. A cactus, thorny, waiting. Ander (on right, below) appears from the cauldron, the devil's abyss, after finding his Beast impaled on the teats of Satan.















The discs refuse to fly; they melt in the air. Plastic tears. On one hole a spiny lizard--it's skin the color of prostitution and dried caramel--swallows my Star Wraith and trudges away fulfilled with hate and venom. The cacti laugh at me. The tee pads fling dry spittle and Mexican curse words. (rough translation: "Fairways are for the gringo-ass!")

Huh? Drive it where? Seriously. This is a tee box. If you think that is opening on left, you are wrong. It is a sliver, and the hole is right.

Fuck this course. We serpentine up the mountain.













Ander hands me a dank ale and notes every other disc golfer has hiking poles as essential gear. He has the best quote of the day: "Well," he says. "We might not be the best disc golfers here, but we will be the drunkest."















We ride the lift. We start the wretched descent. Disc golfers with spears drift into the whispery ghosts of occasional shade, the jumbles of sharp rock, the scree and scream. Ander and I round a curve and come upon a group of disc golfers roasting a DX Valkyrie over an open fire. The polymer drips from their fangs. Another has a strange brown substance in the bowl of an Aviar putter. It resembles Spackle rimmed in seagull shit. Smells similar. Ander takes a pic but his camera would later tumble into a crevasse, so no go. We trudge on. A night-blooming Cerues pricks Ander as he reaches for a Star Sidewinder. His thumb swells into the shape of Richard Nixon's head. He bleeds the bleeding of the blooden.















A scorpion in my bag again. Brown and black and curling--it looks like a cigar a dead man has choked on. I hear a rustling next to my tricked-out Roc and then a sting that makes my index finger go red, purple, black, then red. The type of red you find inside carcasses, or volcanoes. Something falls onto my shoulder. Vulture shit? No, all vultures here have been eaten by dust and the sun. Another scorpion. I try hitting it with a Wraith and the disc goes rolling, over a cliff, an incline Ander is hiking up.

I catch my foot on a whiptail lizard, fall over a fuck-ton of scree, and hit my head on a boulder. Ander plays out the hole.

Hours later I wake, shivering. The temperature has dropped like housing value. The sun is still out, though. Mirrors of heat trapped upon the mountainside. What would happen if my disc bag--seeping heat against my right hip--exploded? Around me snakes are chewing the skulls of rabbits. An odd soggy sound. I notice a quail swallowing a quail. One blue throat squawking from another. I stand. I take yet another lorcet and miss my putt.
















Uphill? Cliffhanger? A limping burro approaches our group and two starved D golfers leap upon its flesh and rip it limb from limb. In a deep valley I yell to try out an echo. There is no echo. My voice and will are swallowed. After the burro slaughter, I am shaken up and settle my next drive into the top of a raggedy aspen. It stays there, cackling. I pick up a femur and throw the disc free. The sun is a terrifying father.

Upshot this photo below, by-atch.
















Downhill to here? See that basket in front of the tree? Hit that tree or kiss your ass goodbye. One disc golfer starts rolling--head over teakettle over ass--past this basket and just never stops. We never see him again. Ander asks his group, "Aren't you even going to look for him?"

They cackle and reply, "Why? What would we find?"
















I must have ten thousand prickly thorns in my ankles, my socks, the epidermal lining of my shins. The skin resembles paper in a fire, curled black and stinging. My body is on fire. The earth hums below me, a turbine, a tumor, an undertow of sand and rock. 17 looooong holes later. Everything is silent, dead. Poisonous. One wrong step, you die. A right step, you are painfully injured. A perfectly placed step, you're just uncomfortable...

Fun though:

S

Okay, so you want to know scores?

Thursday, 9:45am. I pick up Sean at the airport. We get lunch. We head out to Marana to play the full 18 (see earlier blog on that course). First round: Sean is up something like four strokes early, but those strokes erode. Ander deuces hole 18, and Sean misses a 50 footer for the win, settling for par, resulting in a tie:

Ander: +6, Sean +6.

Second round the wind comes up. Another close round. These are decent scores on this course, by the way, where you can easily shoot +10 or more. I got a +2 and a +6 in with Erik Sather last week. Was happy with the +2 but still I feel like I can shoot this one at even par or under.

Anyhow, second round: Ander +6. Sean +8.

Ander again deuces 18 to seal the win. By the time we finish (3pm) it is about 103 out. Sean's marathon training pays off. These were good rounds. Still plenty of strokes left out there, but solidly played on both parts.

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Day two (my scores here are probably off, since I didn't write these down--Sean did though--but the results are correct): we get up early and put in a round on the B tees (much more interesting than the trivial A tees) on Groves. Ander's winning this one, a stroke up going into 17. He has a forty-footer for birdie which should more or less seal things. However, he blows it by. Then proceeds to blow a couple more by. Takes a frickin' triple bogey on a fairly easy hole, giving Sean a stroke or two lead. Same thing on 18. Sean wins this one, or possibly, Ander just loses this one on putting. Jesus Christ. Score (approximate): Sean +5, Ander +10. I'll try to forget this one, I think, as we get beer and drive up the mountain to our 1pm tee off a the Lemmon Drop (which does not have an Ander/Sean rivalry result).

If you're interested, the temperature in Tucson at 11am was 98. Up the mountain at noon, it was 71.

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Day three, we get up and are on the course (Santa Cruz River Park) by 9:15am. Temperature: 84. Santa Cruz is a lovely desert course. Probably the least interesting of the bunch, but still plenty of difficulty. Lots of birdies are out there playing from the A tees. Our first round we play the A tees. Sean hoses an early hole (#4?) and double-bogeys it, giving Ander a big lead. However, he chips away at it, hitting birdie putts, as Ander hits every part of about ten baskets in a row without making putts. Going into 18, they're tied up. Ander parks the drive on 18 and birdies for the win.

Score: Ander -4, Sean -3.

Second round we play the B tees, which are demonstrably harder (many blind shots, for instance, more distance, different kinds of shots required). I end up in the Santa Cruz River on hole 7 (which is a big-ass turnover shot to get to the fairway, which I do not manage to accomplish). It's dry, at least, but it's quite a shot to try to get back into the hole. Saw a six-foot snake down there. Sweet. Other than that I'm in command this round, something I cannot say about any of the other rounds we played, which were all close, 1-2 stroke wins.

Score: Ander +0, Sean +4. It's now about 101 out. We get some tasty ass Mexican for lunch. We put in one more round at Groves from the B tees before retiring back to the house for a needed break in the pool (see video and photo from previous post). Close round again. Sean again double-bogeys hole 10 (a bitchy long hole) and loses his disc in a forest of cactus. Ander helps out and gets some cholla in the left foot. Jesus. That is exceedingly unpleasant. But again I manage par on hole 10 (same as the previous Groves round) and get my two strokes back from Sean. From there it's decent play by both, but results in another victory for Ander.

Score: Ander +4, Sean +6.

Weekend totals: Sean 1 win, Ander 4 wins, one tie. Looks to be quality play coming in Madison. But in the meantime I look forward to the Peru report. And Sean's take on the courses played this weekend.

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And to ice the cake, here are two photos of Sean on the Lemmon Drop:

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Lovelace Makes a Putt

So, a mid-round update: Lovelace is the undisputed king of putting on the 19th hole at the East Seventh Street Course in Tucson:


The key is levitation, homes.

See also this:

We are sure to see this deployed in Madison.

Lemmon Drop First Half

Ah, the Lemmon Drop. Sean came to town (more on that next) Thursday-Sunday. Actually I blog this as he's in the air back to Indianapolis. Suffice to say this is one of the most difficult courses I've played. Huge dropoffs, massive downhill holes, heavy trees, and the steep inclines make for some treacherous play (you could easily wipe out walking down these holes; we showed up for the random-draw doubles on Friday, and every single player besides us had hiking poles; clearly they were used to this).

Some statistics: the course tees off at 9,150 feet. The total distance of the 17 holes we played (the doubles played only 17 holes) was about 6000 feet. The duration of the round was approximately 4 hours. Sean and I were paired up with random dudes. His team shot -4. Mine shot -3 or possibly -2. The winning pair were at -8, which is a good (but not great--playing doubles there are lots of birdies out there, but also bogeys because there is ample opportunity to fuck these holes up intensely) score.

I'll blog the first nine here. First, here's the course map (accidentally pilfered by Sean). We played only 17 of these holes (the full tourney plays 27 per day Saturday and Sunday).

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And the view from the chairlift up to the first tee (you take the chairlift up twice to play the course):

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First time on a chairlift for me. There's apparently etiquette and technique involved in getting on and off these things. I took the ride up with this kind of crazy guy (more on that eventually).

A shot from the top, overlooking Tucson. Because of the burn a few years back you can see all the way down:

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So, to the actual course. Sean's group was in the front. Mine teed off last. First hole's a beaut.


About 350 feet, but downhill some so it's drivable with a Buzz or a Roc if you wanted. As you can see you've got a great gap on the right that's designed for a drive, but if you miss it, don't get enough distance, or hit anything, your disc could roll down 400' without much trouble at all. Many dudes were hiking down to get their discs. You could also play a turnover shot along the left (or a forehand), but it's tough with a forehand, or for a lefty, to get it to stick on the pathway so you have a putt. Don't leave it too high, and don't undershoot. A difficult birdie but a reasonably easy par. Real nice hole to begin. I drove about 50' left of the basket on the road and we putted but missed the birdie. On to the second:

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Similar sort of idea, about 280, but also downhill. Follow the gap on the left, it plays to the right a little. Of course my partner and I both winged the first tree, and had to scramble for par.

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Three's a shorty, easy birdie, maybe 220 or so, a little hyzer. Not worth photographing, apparently. Nice to get a break from the serious damage of the first two holes, but if you miss the gap you can (as I did) roll about 150' down the hill. Which would be terrible to play from. My partner parked this one, thankfully. Hole 4's maybe my favorite on the course: it's a huge hyzer shot that drops off a lot to the left. You have to throw a pretty big, tall shot, keep it on the right and let it fall forever down. If you don't get enough distance, you'll roll right back and down into the precipice.

Too much and you're in the trees with a bitch-ass putt downhill (this next shot is a view from the corner):


and the coup de gras is that the putt is just exceedingly nasty. You cannot go 6 inches past the basket, and god forbid you catch an edge. Groups were rolling 300' past the basket after chaining out:


A real lovely hole, the kind you almost never get to play. That's what this course is about, actually. You just don't practice these shots (Erik Sather knows this from playing the Snowbowl up in Flagstaff). But this course is even more like that. Big downhill shots like this don't require drives, a lot of times, just really stable Roc shots. The only way to play these holes is to practice them, and if you've played the course last year (as 90% of the players who showed up did) then you've got a big advantage.

Sean claims to have parked this hole. I actually was only about 25' off it with my drive, but after my partner's putt rolled on down, I had to play it safe and settle it under the basket. Par's a good score here.

Speaking of downhill bomb shots, here's a great one, hole 5:


It plays 510' downhill. You can't leave it right (on the right you can see dudes teeing off on hole, what, 8?). It's a turnover shot, but it drops off so much it's hard to get used to teeing off at a major downwards angle. You don't need to kill it. Just give it enough spin to level off and preferably tail right a little. I didn't play most of these drives properly at all. The best part of 5 (above) is that once you get through those tall upright trees, it drops off significantly. You can blow past (as I did) and have a fine shot, but not much of a birdie chance unless you barely graze the crest. Keep it fricking low, homes. And here's the reverse angle on it from the bottom:


A super-fun hole. My response to this course was that I'd love another shot at it. Unfortunately you can only play it for the tournament itself. Sean and I didn't want to do the whole tourney (he left this morning, so could only get the first round in, and really, we'd rather play together) so we did the doubles instead. Downside: our scores were not against each other, and were as such meaningless in terms of the rivalry. Upside: playing doubles here is super satisfying. You can go for a lot more, obviously.

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Hole 6 is another big downhill hole, 420'. Again, if you have a good turnover drive, then you're set. Generally the rule for this course:

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Hole 7 is "short but steep," 201' but uphill 72', so it's a big shot to get up there. Not that fun of a photo so I skipped it. I parked this hole with a big destroyer shot. Also the kind of shot you don't get used to throwing. The Snowbowl has a lot of these holes. They're worse at the Snowbowl because it's so grueling. This is a grueling course too, but on the Snowbowl you have to hike up half the time. At least this course you take the lift up.

Hole 8 is the easiest by far on the course. 123', straight ac ross, or maybe up a little. Ace run. No one aced. Kind of a lame hole except as a breather, which you'll need. But anything less than hitting metal you don't feel good about.

More to come.

Calvary-Like Disc Golf Course Review of Nor

Yesterday Mark Neely asked if I have seen this course. I said no. But I will. Soon.

Calvary Disc Golf Course

I am always wary of church courses. Will they be purposely easy (lame) to make everyone feel righteous? Will they only have 9 holes (churches love them some 9 hole D golf). Will they put bible verses on the tee signs? Will someone proselytize as I am trying to Hammer a utility disc up and over and around a tree?

Like here, where they actually link the bible messages to the actual hole you are playing...

(Hole 1: "In the Beginning," etc.)

So, Calvary, Calvary. Heaven or hell? The New testament (forgiving; we all throw bad shots) or Old Testament (You sin, you die, Wham-O.)

An easy drive, exit the car, and my first thought is groan. It looks like one of those "courses" where people just sow baskets in a field.

I walk to hole one. Hmmm...

Not a great sign. But no bible verses either. And the baskets have been in 2 weeks, so I am in an absolving mood for the course. They are going to install concrete pads and tee signs and all that jazz in the future. (I met the pastor on the course, so I think I should know. He said, "Before the baskets, we just had nets." Nets? There is nothing like the sound of a disc hitting a net. Whatever.)

Here is their flier announcing the opening of the course, and if that is the typical Calvary member, Mr. Lovelace just might attend a little church.

Wait a minute. Inside this bucket is a map and scorecard.

*Yep, 9 holes, with multiple tees. So 18 that way. Ah, the art of the church course. I am hoping their future course includes 18 actual holes.

* Wait a minute. The map shows a big-ass lake. The map shows tablet after tablet of trees.

Stay tuned for details. You do realize this disc golf course is named after the site of a crucifixion?

Here it is, hole by hill by hole.

Hole 1.) 285 feet out into a field. Ditch on right, with brackish water. One shrub to avoid. Yawn me a song. I drive it, miss a short putt because I suck, and settle for par. You have to cross several skinny-ass planks to get across this ditch.

Immediately it was apparent the actual baskets are Judas. No inner chains. I had one putt betray me, kiss right through the center chains, and you can most likely expect this once a round, I feel.

As you can see, I snatched Aden out of school. Disc golf with dad trumps school all life long, folks. The kid carries a fishing rod pretty much everywhere he goes...

2.) 400, level 5 drive over the sulking little ditch, and suddenly I learn that ol' Calvary snore-fest might just be a tad bit Ted Haggard--as in a bit off, pharisee-ing, as in hiding something (like Meth?). Actually the course and rural church here are much kinder than cynical Mr. Haggard. I don't want to press the analogy. What I mean to say here, in disc golf vernacular, is watch out.

Wow! Hole two's basket is clearly insane, and meant to turn anyone picnicking nearby to a mound of salt. This will later be hole 11 for even more approach angles to maim, thunk, clean, and/or decapitate. I LOVE this hole placement. The first I have seen seemingly planted with intent to disrupt human gatherings. Now this do seem Old Testament to me.

I play a light yet succulent Hyzer over the shed on the right. Par.

3.) 245 feet. Did I mention a lake? Aden said, "Dad, can I fish!?" I said, "Aden, fishing is the most biblical profession. Go ahead." He fished. I threw. Here you get a first chance to just skim over the lake as you park a Roc. But the lake was in my mind a bit, naggling my synapses, but just wait until later, kind folks. And how do you feel about that Roc, Sean? Hot pink and about 2 weeks old. A disc I have heart for; its allure quivering when I grip it in my hand. You like that Roc don't you, punk-ass Sean?

Birdie, and Sean is -1 and feeling all Kelly Clarkson.

4.) 205 feet. Wow. A mid-range nothing, right? Uh, wrong. We now bring in the lake seriously, and the trees. This is your Calvary appetizer, one of the minor plagues, those little frogs, the days of hail, straight-line winds, whatever, or having to attend a parent day luncheon, that kind of pain.

I park that thing like a Maserati. Sean is -2 and drinking the red Kool-aid flecked with chiles.

Does that look a tad nasty? Just wait.

5.) 525 feet, over water. Huh? (They call this a par 5 at the church, but I play ALL disc golf holes as par three, the way Ander Monson taught me.)

Did somebody just tell God about a hardening heart? Why must I sacrifice my pink Roc? Why? Don't question. Don't. Good bye disc, and my score. Wateriest of graves. (Sean is now, in a flash of lightning, + 1)

Don't see any sea parting either....

6.) 500 feet. Highway fence on your right, then a busy highway. Lake on your left. A fairway the size of Pharaoh's staff. Well, whatever this course was, it is now way Old Testament. Fire and those weird ash-sacks people wear and fish swallowing towns and the day the daughters or some angels or something slept with their drunk dad, all that, add salt. (Sean is now +3)

7.) 400 feet out into a field. No big deal except the tee pad is tucked into a forest of arthritic trees. I par.

8.) 325 from center of field to center of field. As boring as a standing cow. I easily par.

9.) 185. OK. Major Deuteronomy. Stone the disobedient children! Once again, Calvary attempts to maim. The ol' throw the disc over the tractor-tire playground move. Major ace hole, though you would feel a bit sheepish at 185. I'd just like to say how impressed I am with placing the basket just past a child's play area. Diabolical. Did I design this course in my sleep?

Please don't throw. That is my child scrambling up those tires. (Throw comes from BEHIND the tires, OVER them, toward the photographer here.)

(Sean parks, takes his birdie. +2)

10.) 590 feet!!! Jesus. Seriously, Jesus? Good look with your par here. The basket is way back into shrubbery, but pretty open (except the lake behind). I take a bogey. (Sean at +3)

11.) This was # 2 basket earlier. Now 175. Ok. I bounce one off a picnic table, almost in. Birdie. Sean is +2.

12.) Out into a field (hole one basket). It is listed at 245 but even the bible is open to interpretation. About 315 to 330, I'd think. Par.

13.) 532 feet. Another field bomb, then into nasty trees. A net of trees, a honeycomb and locusts. I eat a double burger and now at + 4.

14.) 500 feet. Oh the drive? Over water. After the opening 9, I went to my car and grabbed some "water" (code for don't care about) discs. Goodbye DX Valk. Center shot, deep. Sinking still. How do you like this drive, disc-golfers? The FAR LEFT (not the one on the right) basket is the hole I am playing...

Sean is now physically warm inside. I feel jumpy. And down. Shooting a + 6.

15.) 500 feet. Again, you drive OVER the lake. I cut the corner and took a bogart.

16.) 370. Weird hole. You drive out of a tree-chute. Pretty tech, and I like it. Par.

17.) Damnation! I'll let the photo talk here. That is lake of sulfur in front, woods in back, basket on a stale wafer of earth.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.......

I play it well and proudly par.

18.) I will vote this hole as the worst finishing hole in the history of disc golf. This is my nominee. Any challenges? I would have taken a photo (should have) but was lulled unconscious while approaching the tee pad. 175 feet of throw your putter straight at the basket.

Fun.

Uh, I birdied. If you ace this hole, Way To Go. Really. What a spoiled wine way to end a course.

So, Sean runs a + 6 and loses TWO discs. Wow. Beat down like a money-changer in the temple. A truly biblical course, as in odd. I kind of hated it and loved it, too. I am going to return, more than once, just to shoot a good score. And I am going to buy a floating disc.

What is the best floating disc??

Revelation: NEVER throw your best discs on these lake holes. I had wind today, and it was gospel. Without wind, still. So.

Pray.

(at least Aden stayed happy)

S

Also, if you haven't

checked out Sean's Jesus-related disc post:

http://seanlovelace.com/2009/05/05/calvary-like-disc-golf-course-review-of-nor/

Marana Rock now a full 18 + nice bench!

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Word came in that Marana Rock, certainly the premier course in Southern Arizona, has finally been expanded to a full 18 baskets. Previously it had 18 holes, played two ways to 9 baskets. Normally I disdain that situation, but the beauty of the landscape and the general excellence and difficulty of the course (even at 2x9) overrode that. They've got nice concrete tee-pads on most holes (certainly will have then on all 18 eventually), good mowing, elevation change, and a lot of wildlife.

In Arizona in May you have to get up early to play. I don't get up that early, but I try. I got to the course around 10:30, to 85 degrees and zero clouds. Clouds are infrequent here, I've found.

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Hole 1's the same as before, but just as bitch-assed. Elevated tee, elevated green. Not that long, but there is very little landing area to have a drop in. I've birdied this a couple times, but bogeys are more often. My first round I double bogey it. You can clink one off the basket and half the time it'll go rolling right down the hill. Second round I almost ace it. Almost means I missed it by a foot and shot by about 80 feet. Parred it though that time. Your shot upwards at the basket, sir?

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Word on the street is that you want to get your birdies on the old 9, because the new 9 do not sound easy. Par is fine for hole 1. 2 is long, back uphill to an elevated green:

332 feet is a long way to go uphill. It's a tough drive because on many holes here, location is king. You can end up being behind palo verdes or mesquites and end up thorned just trying to get your disc, not even giving you a shot. Many of these baskets are located just on the top of bluffs, meaning you don't want to blow by. Both rounds today I have a birdie putt and miss it. Eh.

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While you're up there, you have to birdie this one. Easiest birdie on the course. One of the few must-have birdies. I birdie it probably only 40% of the time because I blow. 241 feet downhill to that sandy green area on the left. A putter, really, or a roc. Easy to blow it by. And sometimes this course gets flooded and a number of the holes become very difficult to play. That makes this an island green, and the mud and water is just awful to trudge through. You'll lose a disc if that happens. Word, according to the Army Corps of Engineers, is that it flooded this last year only accidentally and should not again. We hope. Usually there's water only on 18.

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4 is a perfect shot for me. They've cleaned this hole up a lot. When it's not mowed, there's 4 foot tall plantlife that is in the entire fairway. Aside from possible disc loss, there are real fears of stepping on a rattlesnake when you can't see where you're walking. The hole culminates in this lovely backdrop of evergreens:

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I have to assume that they will certainly have an alternate basket placement back under those trees. There's a nice little slope up and then away.

Okay. Hole 5, first of the new 9, is an excellent departure. For the most part this course is (was) pretty open, with distance, wind, snakes, lizards, elevation, and various thorned plants as the major difficulties. 5 isn't that tight, nor technical. It plays 383 feet past that first clearing (below) with the bush in the center, then up to the right.


Tough for righties, since you do not want to be in the deep rough. If you drive to have a shot, easy par. A real good drive might give you a birdie run. None of mine did today, but I had an easy upshot both time around that resulted, more or less, in this:

Note the palo verde just pre-disc. These are extremely cool trees. They flower yellow in what, April? And they have no leaves. They are thorned, of course, like everything else in the desert, and their bark is green (that's where the chlorophyll goes). Inventive desert shit.

Okay, nice. Hole 5 is good. But hole 6 might be my favorite hole of disc golf I've played this year. It looks straightforward, except for the yardage:

What you can't see is that you're driving down from an elevated tee, eventually to an elevated basket. But the area you have to land your drive in is difficult to locate from the tee pad. It's a decent sized fairway, more left than right (though there's some crazy fairway out right). See the brown area in the center in this shot:

The basket is beyond. You probably want to throw a disc with some hyzer. My first disc, my fav beast, got launched. Monster drive, I thought. Awesome, I thought. But the fairway was not where I thought it was, nor was my disc anywhere to be found. This whole area--just mowed--felt like snakes. The ground gets rougher when you get down in the bottom fairway area. More on that in a bit. I look for 30 minutes. No beast. I am not snakebit at least. The second round, good news, I throw a better drive, with a wraith that tails just out into the fairway. I have a decent look at the basket, and get down in par. Also I find my beast wedged high in a tree. I get it down. Second round looking way up.

So from the fairway you have probably a 100-200' shot over a bunch of trees to a slightly elevated green, located conveniently on a little ridge:

It makes for a difficult, and essentially unbirdieable (with a putt anyhow) hole. Even if you have a monster drive, there's almost no way (unless you're a flat-out pro) you're driving the green. A good drive, 300-400' puts you in the fairway with a decent upshot, but birdies here will be very lucky. Punishment abounds left and right. The plantlife does not love you. If there's a headwind, even worse. But if you play it right, it's a great hole to par and feel good about.

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Hole 7 is a little similar, but shorter, with a much bigger fairway, and not as elevated of a green. More mountains in the background (not much of one by Arizona standards, admittedly). The trees in front of you complicate things so you can't throw a flat drive all that far. And there's a lot of far left for you. Get your drive out in the fairway past the trees...

and find:

Kalichi! This shit is nasty. This is the ankle sprain village. You can't quite see it here, but the gaps can go a foot deep. Probably your disc could get swallowed if you got unlucky. Of course it's hard as rock. It's clay, superdried. It's more or less under everything in Tucson. It's the reason why the rainwater doesn't get absorbed all that well. It's also the clay that sucked my Croc off when I was foolish enough to play with Crocs, trying to save my shoes, with Jeff and Josh when we played this course and waded through a lot of water. Kind of fun actually. Keeps you cool. But still. This fairway is filled with this crap. It's a huge fairway. A fairly easy shot up to the basket. Not a real hard hole, except that the distance is hard to get on the drive because of those trees, and you'll need a long upshot to get par.

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Hole 8 plays along a side hill. Pretty straightforward, though not short. Keep your disc in the fairway and you'll have a decent shot up for par. Basket's on the little ridge thing of course. Lots of crap right. Don't go right:

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One of the nice features of this course (as is; I imagine there will be more official signage as it gets worked in) is that almost every hole has an obvious directional pointer towards the next tee. It's easy enough to find your way around. Since I've played a couple courses lately that are impossible to self-navigate, I get pissed when you can't find your way. Disc golf, while not a tourist sport exactly, does inspire travel. I travel for disc a lot. And I don't usually want to play with the locals if I don't want to. Tucson is of course a big tourist spot during the winter anyhow, so this is good thinking. Here's an arrow:

See? Nice. Other courses should do this too. Other holes on the course have lined pathways with logs to indicate the way to the next tee.

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There's a little less to hole 9. You can't quite see the basket in this image, but it's a big hyzer shot to the basket. This one's doable. A very reasonable birdie. Maybe the best birdie on the new 9? Not the most interesting hole on the course. I deuced it and then parred it.

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Hole 10 is shorter, but harder. It's uphill, probably a little turnover shot. Basket's up on the right a little--not visible in this photo, but you can see it in from the tee. Maybe a huge hyzer if you have it. I don't have it, I don't think, but I might give it a shot next time. If you miss right, there's a huge pile of tree over there. Definitely enough not to play it that way. But it's a little long uphill for a roc turnover. And with the wind coming up, not an easy hole.

Note also that a lot of the non-concrete tee boxes are framed by logs and branches. Nice.

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Okay. So hole 11 is nicknamed Titanic. I've been looking forward to this, a real test of distance:

However, it's probably the most disappointing hole on the course. It's 773 feet. That's what it's about. If you get your drive on the fairway, then just, like throw it again until you get it to the basket. There's not a lot in the way. A couple scrubby pockets, but once you clear the plants on the drive that's about it. Should be parrable with two big throws. I was bored. Bored bored. Seems like they could have done more to locate the basket better or make you do more than just launch and launch. Hmmm. There's a lot of sand on this hole...?

Of course, having proclaimed my disappointment, I did not par this hole. I threw my drives--both times--into the only plant life you can hit on the drive (that make the hole less than trivial, I admit). So further play is required. But still, man, I want some stimulation!

Hole 12 has a little more to offer, but not a lot. It's not 773 feet, at least. It's a turnover drive, what, 364 feet?

Not particularly difficult. It's an attractive enough hole. I threw a big-ass hyzer on it and had a long birdie putt which chained out. Eh.

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13 is much more solid. It's the end of the new 9. It plays to a drive on a slightly elevated green. Actually a very pretty hole though you can't tell by the photo. You probably want to throw a hyzer drive that finishes left. You can't throw it directly to the basket, even if you could throw it 413 feet, because there's trees in the way. You'd have to go big hyzer to try to get there, but an easier shot is to lay up a little, just let it finish on the left in the fairway. Tempting to go right, but there's a shitload of cabbage out there and who knows what else.

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So, back to the original 9. See my earlier post for more details on these. 14 is a breath of air, a birdie hole. They've cleaned the rough and plantlife out a LOT on the left in this hole, making it much more humane. You used to get seriously punished if you went left. In fact, left wasn't even an option on this hole. Now it kind of is. Actually this hole looks entirely different:

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And then 15, a big stretch of a hole. Close to driveable for me, but never quite so I have a makeable putt. The photo doesn't show too clearly, but it's a beautiful hole, spreads out in front of a slightly elevated tee, and down to a protected green. When you used to play back to this basket on the "back 9" before we had 18 baskets, it was actually one of the best holes on the course:

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Evidently I skipped 16. It's a birdie hole with a big hill backstop. Fun little hole. By this time you really need a birdie.

17 is a bomb-ass hole. 402, big and downhill, then the basket's back up on a raised bluff/ledge thing. Lots of options here. The key is to throw it real frickin hard, and then not blow your putt by so you'll have to putt back out onto the drop off:

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And the finishing hole:

75% of the year the low-lying, dried-out area on the right is filled with water which makes this hole more interesting. Even so, you don't want to be down there. Nor do you need to. It's not that long a drive. The water just adds much drama, a real penalty in case you fail to make the shot that you're pretty sure you can execute, that without water, you'd do it every time, but that water, it changes the psychological calculus. As water does for Arizona and the West in general, of course. So it's odd to have water in the equation here at all. This course is otherwise an excellent example of a desert course.

I'd love to have a couple more technical holes, but that would be tough to execute in this landscape. Maybe if Titanic gets revisited... but that's unlikely. The designers put this course together with a lot of love. I for one am glad to have it. There's so much space out here, I can't imagine we won't get a 27- or 36-hole version at some point, as the place and space deserves.

In the meantime, it will test your skills. Word is that the current singles record here is +4. I shot +14.

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It's good that there's a water fountain up past 18. You'll need it here. I went through 4 24-oz bottles of water over my two rounds. It's not cold water--it never is in Arizona except in the winter or the mountains. And you'd be better advised playing morning or late afternoon. But I didn't want to wait. Now I await friends coming to town to test themselves. Sean arrives in a week and change. Erik and Nicole and Zoe come in Friday. Better to return to the pool and the mister on the porch and conserve my energy.