Their turn left or right does reveal a favored side
of the landing zone, but the movement is never
so sudden as to eliminate an approach angle.
The theme of the tricky topography continues
through the remainder of the round. Holes that
measure brief yardages are never simple in their
resolution. A mound in the fairway might kick a
ball off toward the rough, or simply impede its
progress forward. An elevated green might feature
a side fall-off toward a chipping area or bunker.
The putting surface itself might reveal an internal
spine that compels balls away from the flag,
threatening a three-putt if care is not taken. The
walk around Southern Pines is bucolic, and the
golf will certainly be enjoyed. In its natural state,
though, the course will rarely be overwhelmed.
A mad dash from the eastern USA golf world
to the west coast is in order, as we complete
this final installment of Diverse Drives with a
look at one course in California and two more
in fabled Oregon. In the middle of downtown
Ojai, California, home to artists and their wealthy
patrons, awaits the municipal Soule Park golf
course. Located 90 minutes north of Los Angeles,
in the hills above Santa Barbara, Soule Park was
marginally redesigned by architects Gil Hanse
and Jim Wagner in the mid 2000s. The course
was deluged by flooding from the San Antonio
creek that bisects the golf course. Turf was
washed away and repairs were necessitated.
Hanse and Wagner restored many of the holes
and flipped the nines, but the playing order has
since been restored by the club. The greatest
change came when the old 17th and 18th holes
were completely reversed, creating an intriguing
finish that brings the closing holes down toward
Ojai’s main street and employs subtle ground
movement to force final decisions on the part
of the golfer. They are a nice way to close the
round.
Before we get to those holes, though, another
16 holes merit our attention. Many is the time
that a golfer leaves a course and recalls that
certain lengths of hole were the strongest feature
of that particular layout. In the case of Soule
(pronounced ‘soul’) Park, it is the par 4s and 5s
where the identity of the track is forged. The
movement of the course, etched by WF Bell and
refined by Hanse, runs below massive canyon
walls, along a floor. The holes seem flattish, yet
are subjected to the slight tilt of the hillside’s
influence. Greens are located at spots that appear
unremarkable, but are absolutely appropriate
when looking at the holes in reverse. These twoand three-shot holes often use natural features
like the aforementioned creek, or a well-found
copse of trees, to create a driving angle where a
play for a better approach is tempered by the risk
associated with challenging the feature.
Soule Park is an affordable oasis in a mountainous
region near lala land. The rates are ridiculously
pithy, even when a cart is included, and the
course plays fast and firm on most days. There is
no fast and easy way to get there from here, or
anywhere, but the drive up into the hills is part of
the attraction. For an East-coast boy, Soule Park
and courses of its ilk are stunning in their natural
surroundings. Tall pine and oak trees are quite
noticeable in the Carolinas, but actual mountains,
adjacent to the golf course, are quite another
when it comes to intimidation and simple awe.
Our final two courses of this segment of the
tour are appropriately located in what might now
be considered to be a home of American golf.
It is not the oldest locale for golf, not by a long
shot. It is barely 15 years old. And yet, what the
Bandon Dunes property in central Oregon, hard
on the Pacific coast, has done for the spirit of the
game, is immeasurable. Mike Keiser’s incredible
double gamble, on both an isolated location and
an untested architect, has paid off not just in
financial reward, but in a re-evaluation of what
the guiding principles of good golfing grounds
should be. Gone, for the most part, are lush and
expensive fairways, disappeared are gnarly, clubtwisting rough; absent are massive carries over
water, where balls meet their doom; removed are
the elevated greens where long iron and hybrid
approaches are demanded (with a required carry
over sandy wastes, for good measure.) Keiser’s
return of the golfing keys to the bump-and-run
and the low approach has been a welcome aboutface from the transgressions of the 1960 and
1970s in American golf course design.
The original Bandon Dunes, opened in 1998, saw
the arrival of David McClay Kidd on US shores.
Kidd and Keiser worked together to create
this American links along the Oregon cliffs. 4.5
hours south of Portland, even farther from San
Francisco, Bandon was played-out timber country,
fallen on hard times. The golfing grounds were
hollow, elevated links land, covered in gorse. It
was impossible for the golf ball to not trundle
off, run out, bound along firm, sandy soil. Kidd
was given run of the best pieces of the property,
and his original course stands the test of time.
Volume 3 • Issue 36
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