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QUAILS, BIRDIES AND OTHER FOULS
Quail Lodge in Carmel-By-The-Sea
by Anthony
Scaggs
Like a lob shot gently landing on the green and rolling
towards the pin, the Southwest Airlines plane sliced through the air on our
approach to the San Jose, California airport, gently kissed the runway and
rolled to the gate.
Quail LodgeI am here to play golf not hunt. The thought
crossed my mind more than once. I wondered if someone misunderstood my
statement about shooting birdies. Did they think that I was a hunter?
As I drove past the golf course and headed for the lodge, I
noticed the large The Golf Club above the At Quail Lodge sign. I relaxed
knowing that I had the desired weapons for my birdie quest.
What a bonus to arrive at the Quail Lodge when they were
hosting a Carmel Garden show. The Gardeners creativity and imagination enticed
ones thoughts as to what a home or garden could be. The beautiful plethora of
colors staged by the designers was enhanced by the gardens of Quail Lodge.
Walking along the flower-lined lane, I looked to the right
and saw the first tee. It reminded me of sitting on a blanket in a pasture
enjoying a delicious repast with my lady. I basked in the warm sun enjoying all
that life had to offer. (The course is 3.5 miles from the Pacific Oceans fog
belt.)
The tee was just beyond the oak, pine and cottonwood trees
and the wild and domestic flowers in the paradise managed by Denis Kerrs crew.
One can see the left edge of the bunker lying in wait for a miscalculation or
the wrong club or that little voice that whispers in your minds ear you can
cut the corner. Many of us, who have listened to that voice, find ourselves
reaching for the sand wedge.
As I twist in the sand to set my feet for a firm shot, I
think of the Greek myth in which Jason had to sail past the Sirens. Their
singing would seduce the sailors into the rocky shores and to their death.
Perhaps this is a little dramatic for a wedge shot out of the bunker but
effective for explaining why we listen to that little voice in our head. Every
time, that I listen to that voice, I get in trouble. Do you? Why do we listen?
Golfers must be prone to seduction.
Thank goodness that I am blessed with a golf memory. I only
remember the good shots.
The 18 holes at Quail Lodge are beautiful, but I should have
paid more attention to the challenges. I do not mind being sidetracked when the
surrounding is as beautiful as those at Quail Lodge.
I approached Hole number six. Standing on the tee, it seemed
that I was on an island. The Old Man and The Sea came to mind, Water,
water everywhere
One had to use their imagination to look beyond the water to
the fairway and then to the green. The pin was on the back right of the green.
I decided to lay up short and pitch onto the green. Between
the fairway and the green is a creek with a high bank, hiding a watery grave
for the careless or a least a two-stroke penalty. If one does not study the scorecard
carefully, one can turn an attempt for an eagle or a birdie into a turkey. In
the adjacent pictures lower right corner, one can see three fowl fouls that
turned into turkeys when an adventurous golfer tried to cut the corner and
found the stream.
The beauty of Quail Lodges Golf Club is evident at every
turn. Holes 14 to 18 utilize the water hazards not only to enhance the
challenge of the game but the allurement. The architect and the groundkeepers
have created a visual setting that would be the envy of many botanical gardens.
I was fortunate. The course was not crowded and I could
prepare for my next shot while looking at the paradise all around me.
While you are on the tee box waiting your turn, look around.
You might be surprised.
For further information contact:
Quail Lodge Resort & Golf Club, http://www.peninsula.com, 800 538-9516
Carmel-by-the-Sea, Carmel Business Association, 831-624-2522
http://www.carmelcalifornia.org, e-mail carmel@mbay.net
Southwest Airlines www.southwest.com flies into San
Jose and San Francisco from many locations. Golf clubs are counted as one piece
of baggage. 1-800-I-FLY-SWA (1-800-435-9792)
Images: copyright
1999 Anthony Scaggs
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