A Look Back on My Return North, From My New Home in Hamden CT

It was barely two weeks ago that I completed the final miles of my road trip. Exiting off of I-87 and heading west, then finally passing Jiminy Peak, Five Corners, and Mt. Greylock, I knew my time on the road was up. Departing Williamstown six weeks earlier in bitter cold with the promise of a month of Florida warmth felt so long ago, yet here I was arriving back home even before winter had blown its final breath. 

It's difficult to compare my Germany adventure to my road trip, because they were so very different. In Germany, I had the time and structure in place to take things slowly--to not only observe but learn; to not only meet people but build relationships that will last a life time. In my solo excursion down south and back, I took things at a faster pace--attempting to squeeze in as many experiences as time would allow. My focus was different, too. The South is a whole new world compared to New England, but at the same time, it's still America. There's no language barrier, no new system of government or social structure, and no thrill of being in Europe. I didn't have the desire to go out of my way to look at a church or a historical monument. Instead, I was interested in discovering a new golf course; visiting family, friends, or friends of friends; and getting a feel for the broad spectrum of life in a different part of my own country. And after accomplishing all of this, along with the many hours spent in the drivers seat of the Malibu, I arrived home, again. 

This time, it was much easier to answer the question, "How was Florida?" When I was asked the same thing about Germany, I rarely knew where to start. But most people in Williamstown are more familiar with Florida than anywhere in Europe. I could get by with something along the lines of: "The weather was gorgeous; I played a lot of golf; I spent a lot of time driving; it was a lot of fun." And above all, it was a ton of fun--certainly not a bad way to spend six weeks of winter. 

A Few Occurrences While Driving Home

With Dudleyite Rich Maxwell

I cannot be finished with my road trip without writing a bit about my trip home. Five days of slowly decreasing temperatures and a few notable stops later, I reached Williamstown from Dunedin, FL. I took a different and more direct route than on my way down, stopping to see family friends instead of buddies in college. My first destination was Seabrook Island to see a longtime Dudleyite Rich Maxwell. Though I wish I had time for golf on Seabrook (or on next door Kiawah Island), it was still a gorgeous place to stay. And I did find time for a final round of golf the next day in North Carolina, when I drove slightly out of my way to play a course called Tobacco Road. It was a unique course to say the least, and though I'm glad I don't have to play that style of golf every day, trying my hand at the extreme layout that is "the Road" was a ton of fun.

My favorite stop was in Washington D.C. I bypassed D.C. on my way down, but no East coast road trip would be complete without a visit to our nation's capital. I visited to see Charlie and Martha Johnson and received the bonus of seeing the Capitol. Charlie Johnson served an incredible tenure as the Parliamentarian of the House of Representatives. He worked in the Capitol building every day, and a quick glance at his "wall of fame" at their home in Bethesda, MD reveals his connection to the most powerful political figures of this country. Though he retired in the mid-2000s, he still has a small office in the basement of the building and still has access that few even dream of. My arrival included no visitor parking or tourist entrance; instead, I parked in the lot reserved for employees and "special guests" and got to sneak in one of the side doors, with Charlie leading the way, of course. It's an incredible place. I'm as big of a fan of American history as anyone, so I enjoyed walking around and seeing statues and paintings that triggered bits of knowledge stored up in my brain. But I won't go into any detail; simply walking where thousands of instrumental politicians have worked, debated, and compromised is the most important part of the experience.

With Charlie Johnson in Bethesda, MD

Getting a tour from Charlie Johnson does have its perks. Not only did Charlie introduce me to someone in every hallway, but he also made sure to take me to places where normal tours do not go. The photo above is the view from a private balcony on the front of the Capitol looking over the National Mall. The offices that have access to this balcony were property of the Speaker of the House and his cohorts. I know Charlie would like to think he set it up, but just a minute later when he was pointing out the Speaker's office, there was John Boehner walking towards us. Politics aside, it was neat to see someone like that in person. I could tell immediately that he really did respect Charlie, and when I was introduced, he took the extra second to say, "Hi Tom, John Boehner, nice to meet you." Of course I knew who he was from the second I saw him, but his humbleness made him really likable.

It was a tremendous stay with the Johnsons, and the next day, after a stop at the National Cathedral for a few pictures and a quick lunch at Potbelly's, I was off to Delaware to see the other Johnsons for my final stop before heading home. Drew is Charlie and Martha's son, and seeing Drew and his family one more time was a cool way to end the trip. I stood on the beach that day at sunset with Drew and Luke (a soon-to-be Cub at Camp Dudley) and watched the surfers in their wetsuits riding wave after crashing wave. It was beautiful there on the Delaware coast. I'd been going non-stop for weeks, and in that moment, I found it fitting to slow down and reflect on my trip. Phase two of the gap year was nearly over. Though nothing will ever compare to my time in Germany, six weeks on the road were about as good as it gets.

The Delaware shoreline at sunset

Golf & Hockey (And Sunsets on the Beach)

Visiting Grandparents in Florida, Part 2

Though I had seen Mimi and Papa, my grandparents on my dad's side, only a few weeks earlier for a Super Bowl visit, my one night with them in Dunedin barely counted for a visit. Heading north from Placida, Miranda and I hit heavy traffic but made it to Mimi and Papa's in time for dinner. She would have an abbreviated visit, but I would stay for a full four days. As I learned over the course of my visit, Dunedin is a great place to live. While a quiet community like Placida is a perfect place for a relaxing week or six weeks of vacation, many long-term residents choose places in and around Tampa Bay because there is so much to do. I found that out quickly. We filled our days with all sorts of activities, dining experiences, and fun times in Florida's warm weather.

I'll write briefly about golf first. A few weeks back when I first visited Dunedin, I had the chance to join Papa's Monday golf group for a morning round. He also plays on Wednesdays with some of the same guys at a different course: Seven Springs. Two days later, Papa and I played the local Dunedin Country Club, which was a different type of course than the two where he usually plays. In both rounds, I hit the ball better than ever but struggled more than ever on the greens. At Seven Springs I shot an 81 with four three-putts and a few more near-"gimmies" that lipped out. Though it would've been fun to shoot a couple 75's, I had no trouble having fun golfing with Papa.

Outdoor seating is always a nice thing in Florida

One of the highlights not only of my stay with Mimi and Papa but also of the entire road trip was our Thursday night outing to see the Boston Bruins play in Tampa. The evening started with a dinner in downtown Ybor City at the Tampa Bay Brewing Company. Our quest to find the restaurant took us through a really cool part of Tampa; the cobblestone streets, trollies, and plethora of great restaurants made Ybor a fun place to be before the game. My Cuban sandwich was superb (I couldn't pass through Tampa without having a Cuban sandwich), and the fried plantains definitely crack my top ten list of foods I've tried this year.

In the past few years, my Bruins have surpassed the Red Sox and Celtics in order of my favorite Boston teams. Though I grew up visiting Fenway Park every season and also had my seventh birthday party in the front row at a Celtics game, I'd never seen the Bruins live. Who would've imagined I'd see the B's for the first time in Florida?

We arrived at the game with plenty of time to spare; watching warmups, it was clear that Tyler Seguin was the most gifted player on the ice. I think we often forget that he is barely twenty-one, and with the skill and speed he has now, I can't wait to see him a few years down the road. As I stood a few rows back from the glass and snapped photos, I couldn't help but wonder at the sheer size of Zdeno Chara and Milan Lucic. The program listed them at 6'9" and 6'4" with Lucic having the slightly bulkier build, but on skates they both looked like giants. Size doesn't always matter, though. Brad Marchand scored the goal that put Boston ahead for good and was a pest all night long. Nathan Horton was the player of the game, however, scoring the first and fourth goals. He is finally injury-free, and on this night in Tampa Bay, he lead the team to victory.

It was an incredible treat to see an NHL game with Papa. Our seats were pretty ideal, and we got to see a couple close up goals scored down our end. Even better, we sat directly under the lightening machine. Each time the Lightening scored, we could see and hear some serious energy coming out of the metal rods right above us. It was a fun stadium to say the least, and though I've never thought of Florida or Tampa as a place where hockey would be popular, it seems they have no trouble selling out the arena every night.

Plenty of people out on a Friday afternoon at Clearwater Beach

I can't summarize my vacation with Mimi and Papa without talking about the beaches. We visited two located right next to each other; though they were both popular and highly rated, they couldn't have been more different. Caladesi Island required a ferry ride across the bay and through the Mangrove canals to reach the marina. The main building is probably the only establishment on the island, and the rest is pure dunes and sandy beaches. We walked almost all the way to the tip of the island, collecting a few shells and laughing at the pelicans fighting the wind. Clearwater Beach was different to say the least. After a round of golf, we packed up the car and drove down to Clearwater and crossed the bridge that brought us out to the gulf. Whereas Caladesi is a destination for a day, Clearwater could be a vacation destination for a week. There were more than enough hotels, condos, and houses on the island, and on top of that, they had all of the restaurants and shops one would need for a pleasant week of vacationing. The actual beach is massive, extending from the back doors of the restaurants and hotels fifty or a hundred yards down to the crashing waves. Pier 60 is a popular stop along the beach. Basically it's an extension of Route 60, and half of it is covered in artists' tables while the other half is exclusive to fishermen.

We decided to sit down for dinner, take things slowly, and make sure we stayed until sunset. Grouper was the best and freshest fish available, so we took advantage of it. I could barely see the salad part of my grouper caesar salad because the filet was so big, but I enjoyed every bite of it. It was my second-to-last night in Florida. By that time the next day, I had the car packed up and ready to go. Seeing Mimi and Papa was so much fun. Dunedin is their home, and now I have an appreciation for where they live and what they do. There are plenty of fond memories, too. I can't thank Mimi and Papa enough for having me visit, taking me out on the golf course, on the beach, or out to restaurants where we watched the sunset. I waved goodbye on the morning of Sunday the 24th to start my drive north, and I knew it wouldn't be the last time I make a trip down to Dunedin. 

 

Beach Time and Seafood in Placida

Visiting Grandparents in Florida, Part 1

It feels like forever ago that I sat on the screened porch of 406 in the Placida Harbor Club, dining on fresh papaya, strawberries, and melon with my grandparents, Mommom and Babo. Now as I sit in my own room looking out at the brown and snow landscape, I realize how luck I've been to spend time with family down in Florida. I've been just a little bit busy since then, but during my five days at Placida, I had the chance to relax. When I'm near the water, I often get the same feeling that I do on a golf course: wonder and tranquility. There's something about a beach stretching into infinity and the soothing crash of waves that stirs up a certain kind of happiness that's hard to find anywhere else. And being with family in a place like this doesn't get any better. 

I arrived on Valentine's Day night in a downpour, and the weather grew better from there. It was cold the next morning, but not cold enough to stop us from venturing out to the Waterside Grill for some lunch or taking the trip out to Boca Grande to pick up a new bathing suit for myself. I wrote about the next day's golfing experience in a previous post, but we can all agree the weather, at least on the back nine, was far from ideal.

With Babo on Boca Grande's famous Banyan Street. 

I felt the best part began when my cousins, Ellie, Carter, and Rachel, my Uncle Matt and Aunt Jess, and my sister Miranda rolled in on Sunday morning. Placida Harbor Club has two sets of houses--the two dozen or so on the mainland looking out on the bay, and the five beachside establishments out on the island. A ferry makes the short trip every half an hour; only boats can access the island. The day the Storeys and Miranda arrive was cold, and the night was even colder. After shivering my way through two ferry rides on Sunday, I decided the next morning it would be a good idea to break out my puffy winter coat. I rode comfortably from then on, and by Monday and Tuesday, we were back to the gorgeous Florida weather that we all expect. I loved those early morning ferry rides, not only because the cool breeze reminded me of my bike rides to school in Germany, but also because there was always a good chance of seeing a manatee or a dolphin along the way.

The boat docks, dwarfed by the community's signature tree

The two best parts about spending time with family in Florida were the hours on the beach and seafood every night. First the beach: Placida Island is small, secluded, and covered in seashells--perfect for walks, runs, or swims. The girls found some incredible shells, but it was Carter and I who set off in search of shark teeth. And boy did we find them. Well, Carter found most of them. I would pick up one or two, and by the time I stood up Carter would be holding out a handful of eight or ten. I'm sure we found upwards of 800 teeth, and I wouldn't be surprised if Carter brought home a full jar.

It was beach time (and pool time) during the days, but in the evenings when the sun set over the harbor, it was seafood time. I'm sure I've mentioned Mommom's cooking here before, but having the chance to enjoy it for five days in a row was a treat, especially because fresh seafood was available everywhere we went. I love seafood, and it tastes even better in Florida. We had everything from shrimp cocktail to pan-crusted grouper to mahi-mahi on the grill.

I've traveled a lot this year and wouldn't give any of it up for the world. Still, my days in Placida (and the ones in Dunedin with my Mimi and Papa, my dad's parents, which I will write about next) felt like the vacations I remember from my early childhood. I took three trips to North Captiva Island as a youngster, but those were more than half my life ago. Coming back to Florida after all these years reminded me of those memories while I created new ones in the company of my grandparents, my sister, and the Storeys. Thank you to Mommom and Babo for having me stay with them, and I can't wait to see you guys when you get home at the end of the month!

My Maiden Voyage to the New Streamsong Resort

The Best Golf Course I've Ever Played

As I've explained in previous posts, this road trip serves many purposes. I've had the chance to see family and friends, explore an area of this country of ours that I hadn't really experienced before, escape the New England winter, and of course, begin my golf season a few months early. I've played all over the Southeast, but I didn't yet have that feather in my cap of visiting a world class golf course. Not that I needed it. I've never payed more than a hundred dollars for a round of golf, and anything above thirty is a rare treat.

An understate sign welcomes visitors

Still, when I heard about a new resort being constructed in the middle of Florida's mining country--with hopes of becoming the Bandon Dunes of the Southeast--I knew I would do anything to play there. A month ago, I penned an email to the Head Pro at the Streamsong Golf Resort, explaining my passion for golf and golf course architecture. Just before I left for my drive south, I received a reply. Mr. Scott Wilson I was welcome at Streamsong. The excitement started building from there.

The Story Behind Streamsong

I'd heard about this project a few years ago and followed the progress with mild interest. It's not everyday that you see two eighteen hole courses being constructed at the same time by the two "hottest" modern golf course architecture firms--Coore & Crenshaw and Tom Doak's Renaissance Golf Design. And there are few places in this world which feature dunes akin to those in the British Isles, let alone in the otherwise flat and boring Florida landscape. Let me explain. Streamsong sits in the middle of Florida--about two hours from everywhere important, as I've discovered. Leaving the coast, the land can be pretty dull, with plenty of orange groves, fields of cattle, and mining operations. One particular mining site sat untouched for decades, the piles of sand left by the operation exposed to the wind and native vegetation. And it was this landscape--mirroring the Scottish or Oregon coast--that the idea for a new golf resort was born.

Such a prime piece of real estate could only be rewarded to the best golf course architects, so together, Tom Doak and Bill Coore walked the site in attempt to find the space for thirty-six holes. When they drew it up, they used a red pen and a blue pen to distinguish the separate eighteens from each other. When it came time to decide, Bill Coore chose the red eighteen, leaving Doak with the equally stunning blue eighteen. Thus, Streamsong's Red Course and Blue Course were born. Just three months ago, the courses were ready for play. Even with the resort hotel still under construction, the two courses opened to public play--attracting only the biggest and best golf nerds.

A view of the clubhouse, practice green, and surrounding dunes from the first tee

Making the drive to Streamsong is an experience in itself, but turning onto Streamsong Drive and seeing the first of the dunes made me stop to take in the landscape. It certainly did not look like any Florida I'd seen the past few week. The chique clubhouse sits nestled between two sixty-foot dunes, with fairways radiating outwards between the fescued hills.

Tom Doak's Blue Course

Tom Doak is my favorite modern golf course architect, even though his Streamsong routing is the first of his designs I've had a chance to play. His minimalist style opposes so many of the modern Florida designs, which is why he's been chosen to tackle projects in incredible landscapes such as Pacific Dunes, Cape Kidnappers, and Barnbougle Dunes. With a handful of designs already firmly in the World's Top 100, he is arguably the best golf course architect alive. The Blue Course at Streamsong is another one of his jaw-dropping designs, which can challenge any course in Florida and compete with the best in the world. The first tee sits at the highest point on the property, and offers views of the clubhouse, practice facilities, and nearly every hole on both courses.

Holes To Note

Though each hole would seem world class on a different course, I have to limit myself here. I felt the front nine was stronger overall, though the three closing holes offered the toughest test of the round. Had I played in different weather circumstances (I had off-and-on rain before the skies opened up on fourteen and pestered me for the rest of the round), I may have appreciated some of the latter holes more. I'm sure I'll play the Blue again, but for now, here are my favorite holes. (Yardages are from the Black tees, totaling 6698 yards).

3rd Hole - Par 4 - 370 Yards

The third is a moderate par four playing over a marsh to a wide fairway. (Side note: the fairways were the widest I'd ever seen, and the course featured no rough--only fairways and the thick bushes and fescue found everywhere else). A pesky little pot bunker guards the right side of the fairway, which is the safest play and also offers a frontal attack to the green. Playing left shortens the hole but brings the water and sand into play running down the left side. The uphill approach to the skyline green plays longer than it looks, especially when the pin is placed in the back corner.

The green sits high on the horizon, creating a "skyline" effect.

4th Hole - Par 4 - 417 Yards

The tougher of these wonderful back-to-back par fours, the fourth offers ample width for a drive. The direct line towards the green runs along the left side of the fairway, but a massive sandy area on the left steers golfers to aim right. From the right side of the fairway, the approach shot must fly a steep bunker and land softly on this perched high above the fairway. Tom Doak must have laughed a little when he realized he could put the bunker on top of the hill to create this difficult two-shotter.

This par four zigzags upwards, with menacing bunkers on both sides of the hill leading up to the green.

5th Hole - Par 3 - 121 Yards

Outstanding short par threes are getting harder and harder to find in modern golf design, but this green site--only fifty yards or so from the fourth pin--is befuddling enough to challenge any tee shot, regarless of length. On most holes, and on the fifth especially, the tee boxes are merely two stakes on a flat piece of fairway--no rectangular country club style tee boxes here! The green is skinny but nearly seventy yards in length, with a tremendous pin position in the bowl found on the back left corner of the green. I hope to play the Blue one day when the fifth pin is back there!

From behind the long and skinny fifth green, the bowl-like feature on the back of the green is visible.

7th Hole - Par 3 - 188 Yards

Though Tom Doak wouldn't want any of his courses to have a designated signature hole, the seventh is easily the most picturesque hole on the property. Playing from high above the pond, the golfer must carry the pond and avoid trouble on all sides to hit this large and devilish green. Walking across the bridge to the green site, the encircling dunes seem to loom bigger and bigger. The contours of the green are as such that it's possible to chip or putt from the back and have the ball roll into the water. This is a hole where I could hit the tee shot a hundred times and still never tire of it.

As gorgeous as it gets, the seventh is the perfect setting for a dramatic par three.

9th Hole - Par 5 - 541 Yards

The ninth (and eleventh) play in a part of the property where the features aren't as severe. On these holes, Doak exemplifies minimalism--using the soft natural contours to dictate tee and approach shots. The drive on the ninth is a true blind shot--something that many modern architects fear to build. The subtle mounds cause unexpected bounces for lay up shots, and this green accepts shots both along the ground and in the air. This par five may be the easiest on the Blue, but the thrill of hitting a blind tee shot and then climbing the steep hill makes it a memorable hole.

Massive bunkers guard the right side of the hill on this blind first shot.

12th Hole - Par 4 - 390 Yards

The dramatic twelfth green framed by water, sand, and dunes.

The twelfth has all the makings of a world class par four. A driving corridor framed by bunkers and dunes, a lateral hazard that makes the golfer think twice before blasting a tee shot, a picturesque green site sitting in a natural hollow in front of the dunes, and a wild green with two distinct tiers. Even if one can avoid the large greenside bunkers, ending up on the proper tier is a must for any hope of a two-putt.  I managed to stick a four-iron on the top tier, and I certainly wouldn't have wanted a putt up or down the slope. For sheer beauty and strategic design, the twelfth rivals any on the Blue Course.

The view from the dunes behind the twelfth green shows how perfectly this hole fits into the land.

Side note: here on the fourteenth hole the skies decided to open up, and though I was drenched, I did record my only birdie of the day on this double-dogleg par five.

And then the rains came.

17th Hole - Par 5 - 573 Yards

A true three-shot golf hole, the seventeenth is perhaps the most perplexing par five I've played. A wide fairway accepts all types of tee shots, but it's the second that requires all of the thinking. 170 yards short of the green sit three massive cross-bunkers. The decision is this: lay up short of the bunkers and have long approach uphill to the green, or attempt to clear the bunkers for a short pitch in but risk getting caught. Going left to clear the bunker is the shorter route, but it yields a tougher angle into the green. A gorgeous par five, and a very testing hole down the stretch.

A distinctive tree frames this par five, but it's the massive
cross-bunkers that cause all of the problems on seventeen.

Final Thoughts; Another Thank You

Streamsong Blue is the best golf course I've ever played, hands down. It made the day even better when I caught up to Kevin McGinnis on the fourteenth hole. I wrote about playing with Kevin in my previous golf post, and I'll reiterate that spending time on the golf course with someone who knows and loves the game is always a wonderful experience. I'd like to thank Mr. Wilson again for  treating me so well. I know that I will be back; I'd love another crack at the Blue (especially if the sun is shining), and I've heard the Red is every bit as good. I would recommend Streamsong to any passionate golfer, because these courses are a treat to play--and they're here to stay.

A Whole New World

My Vacationing Begins in Vero Beach

It was off the farm, out of New Smyrna, and straight to the paradise that is Vero Beach. I've discovered two things during this road trip: when traveling, it's good to have Camp Dudley, and it's good to have a grandfather who is the greatest networker I've ever known. (I guess I already knew that because of my travels in Germany, but this trip has certainly reinforced it). I had two contacts in Vero Beach: the McGlynns, who have been family friends since my grandfather was at Williams, and Bill Black, a company manager and friend who goes back to the early days of my grandparents' Storey Publishing business. 

I drove through Downtown Disney, just for the fun of it

I caught up with Ronnie and Connie McGlynn first. (They are also the grandparents of my Dudley friend Guthrie McGlynn, who lives out in Colorado). Their gated community on John's Island is one of the nicest places I've ever had the privilege of visiting. Not only do they have one of the nicest homes I've ever seen--complete with a pool and a short boardwalk down to a nearly private beach, but they also have access to an incredible beach club and three world class golf courses. I know if I ever have any desire to retire to Florida (and I save up enough money to make it possible), John's Island would be a dream location to live. 

It was nice to see the McGlynns, and soon it was on to the true center of Vero Beach, where Bill Black would be hosting me for the next two nights. Vero is far different from the bustling surf destination of New Smyrna, and to paraphrase Bill's description of the town, it has a lot of nice restaurants and not much else. Fortunately, Bill was kind enough to take me out to two fine dining establishments, where I began my quest to consume at least one type of seafood each day while I'm still in Florida. (Don't worry, the streak is still alive). At Pomodoro's on Tuesday night, I chose a shrimp, scallop, and crabmeat pasta dish, and at the Ocean Grill the next evening I got to indulge on some tuna sashimi and a filet of grouper. I must note that the Ocean Grill may have been the most elegant restaurant I've stopped at during this entire gap year. I can't say with certainty it was the best meal I've had, but as far as setting and decor goes, this place was exquisite. As a solo traveler on many occasions, I wasn't often seeking out the finest places in town (and we all know that Germany doesn't win any "elegant" awards for their food). Still, thanks to Bill, I got to see what the upscale restaurants of Vero Beach were all about, and my meal at the Ocean Grill is one I will remember for a long time.

I will remember Vero for many reasons, but when I think of Bill Black, my mind will immediately jump to one thing: golf. For some, golf is a hobby, a simple way to stay active, or a chance to escape the ups and downs of every day life for a few hours on the course. Bill and I both fit all of those descriptions, but he takes this passion to the point of obsession. Those are the type of golfers that I want to meet--the true golf nerds, who leave golf books out on their coffee tables, speak of course architectural legends like Old Tom Morris and C.B. MacDonald as old friends, and have their clubs ready to go at a moment's notice. Even though golf has taken Bill places I can only dream of, we can relate through our understanding of the game. Best of all, someone so passionate about the game usually has access to a nice course and is happy to share it with fellow golfers.

Bill set me up for a day at his club in Vero Beach, called Indian River. I haven't played at enough private facilities to become accustomed to the unique level of service, so getting the chance to be treated as a "member for the day" was a treat unto itself. Then there was the golf. I played twenty-seven holes, only pausing to devour a chicken caesar salad after the first eighteen (Bill informed me that the clubs in his area compete for the best chicken salads--not burgers, not club sandwiches, but chicken salads). I certainly felt like I was playing Florida golf, but at a course that offeres plenty of variety, interesting design strategy, and immaculate conditioning, I had no trouble enjoying a day on the links.

Looking back up the 6th hole at Indian River

I had an incredible time in Vero Beach with Bill, and having the chance to relax, play golf, and eat well after two weeks on the farm made it feel even better. I even swam in the ocean. I know I'd join Bill for a round of golf anywhere in the world, and I do hope to get that privilege again soon.

A Few Brief Thoughts on Golf

Golf is universal. The game can be played with anyone; the traditions can be shared by everyone. It unifies us with Mother Nature, and connects us with old friends and new friends. A round of golf, no matter where in the world it's played, is an eighteen-hole journey through sculpted scenery and our entire spectrum of emotions. Most of all, golf is rewarding--each and every time we tee it up. 

I've been referring to this section of my gap year as my road trip. Though it may not equal my friend Dylan Dethier's eight-month forty-eight state golfing journey, I wanted to have a road trip of my own. And since Dylan was my inspiration for the trip, I figured I had to play golf along the way. (Not like I needed any convincing). After nearly a dozen rounds here in America's southeast, I'm starting to see how Dylan was able to stay motivated for a year on the road--and how he was able to connect with so many people to make his trip and golfing experience possible. 

I've sought out golf courses during this trip for many reasons, and I've experienced a vast range of quality, notoriety, and atmosphere during my rounds. There was the twelve dollar town course in Mooresville, NC. On a cold January morning I was one of very few on the course, and walking alone for my first round of 2013, I rediscovered the inner peace that I've found on the golf course so many times before. There was the Monday morning in Dunedin, where I learned what my grandfather's golfing group was all about. The old guys have all come down to Florida and all love to get out and hit the golf ball, and they all have their own story to share. There was the round in New Smyrna Beach, where after hours of quietly suffering from the slow play in front of me, I shared a laugh with another solo walker, who was shocked at the pace of play even though he was a frequent looper. And there was today at Boca Royale with my grandparents, John and Martha Storey (I call them Mommom and Babo). The last time I played golf with them was last summer up in Westport, or even back at Taconic in June. It's amazing to think of how many miles I've covered and how much I've been exposed to since then. 

I golfed with Bobby, a traveling pro who scraped by playing mini-tours all over the country. Coming from North Dakota, he chose to forgo college for a life as a golfer, and though he is not and probably never will be famous, he's used golf to take him places. 

I joined John, an Auburn graduate and fourteen-year veteran in the engineering field. A true Florida native, John talked me through the Victoria Hills course as I plastered drives and snubbed approaches. He was in his element on the golf course, though I could tell he was restless--wanting to know what was next for him. Would he marry his longtime girlfriend? Would he be able to climb the ladder at his new job, or would he grow tired of it like his last one? Though John asked most of the questions, I knew he had a lot on his mind. 

I caught up to Kevin McGinnis in a rain storm on the fifteenth hole at the new Streamsong Resort (the best course I've ever played; I'll devote an entire blog post to that day sometime soon), a senior executive at a renewable energy development corporation out in Silicon Valley. Like me, he was a true golf course architecture nerd, and unlike me, he had the time and the money to travel all over the world seeking out the best golf courses. I hit my shots in awe of the contours and dunes at Streamsong, while Kevin mildly sauntered around the course--rattling off courses he'd played that I could only dream of and "practicing" for the following days when his brother and a few buddies would join him at the resort. 

These were three incredibly different people I met here in the state of Florida, but above all, they are golfers. Had it not been for golf, I wouldn't have had the pleasure of sharing an afternoon with each of them. Each time, as we shook hands on the eighteenth green, I was told, "If you're ever in my neck of the woods, call me up and we'll play another round together." 

That's what makes golf universal. We can all enjoy, but more importantly we can share it. I know that wherever I go, I'll try to bring my clubs, because a round of golf is often the simplest and purest way of meeting new friends. I know now that I at least have to get out to San Francisco to take Kevin up on his offer. 

Life On and Off the Farm

Though my first few days at Back To Earth Organic Farm in New Smyrna Beach, FL were not exactly what I was expecting, I soon discovered that it wouldn't be too hard to adapt to working and living in Florida. I'm now almost through with my second and final week at the farm. Every day, I've grown to appreciate the farm and the way Kirk lives more and more. And being able to escape to the beach or the golf course in the afternoons hasn't been a difficult transition whatsoever. Would I want to keep this up for months? Probably not. But am I happy with the way my two weeks at the farm have panned out? The answer couldn't be anything other than a "yes."

Planting, Watering, and Other Odd Jobs

It's cool being able to say "I planted that." And highlighted
by the warm Florida sun, my work turned out to be beautiful.

I've yet to divulge any details about what I'm actually doing every morning at the farm, mostly because for a while, I was still getting a grasp of the place. After ten work days, I am proud to say that I've had a hand in the upkeep and progression of nearly every inch of the farm. If you haven't realized it already, this place is small, and I don't even know if it fits under the true definition of a farm. Since it's so young (we're only beginning the second planting season), Kirk doesn't yet have an established market for his produce. But in my opinion, he needs to find one soon, because I alone have planted more seeds and seedlings than anyone could eat in a year, assuming the plants grow and succeed.

Yesterday I watered the entire place--a job that took all morning--and as I moved from bed to bed, I was delighted to see that so much of my work was already sprouting. The peas, which were a two-day project, were just poking through the soil. In a week they'll latch onto the fence and then there's no stopping them. And the squash plants, pictured above, were all growing taller atop their mounds, which I had shaped to begin with. Everywhere I looked, I could point and say "I weeded here" or "I planted there." After fewer than two weeks of labor, looking across the farm gives me a huge sense of accomplishment. I see why farming and gardening can be so rewarding--not just to be able to pick and eat the final product, but also to be able to say "I was in it from the beginning."

Kirk and I have become friendly, and though I still don't usually know what to expect from him, I value the times when I sit down on the couch with him after a long day and he opens up to me. I know this isn't easy for him--he's not a farmer by trade--but he keeps an attitude of "we're all learning together." I feel absolutely no pressure when I'm working for Kirk, but at the same time, he tried to stress that we should all take pride in what we're doing. He told me a few days ago that it's too bad I won't be around when everything I've planted is ready to harvest, and that was when I knew he valued my efforts. 

Read, Run, Golf, Eat, Write, Beach

Right there is a list of just about everything I do and think about, in order of importance, when I have free time. And I do have plenty of free time. I work every morning, from eight until noon, and then more often than not I'm finished for the day. New Smyrna Beach has a lot going for it, and though I'm not your typical vacationer, I think I've discovered a lot of what the town is about. So let's quickly go through the list.

• Read - There isn't much to do on the farm after dinner, so I've been happy to devote my evening hours to reading. So far I've finished This Side of Paradise and Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk--two very different books, but both easy to read and thought provoking. 
• Run - If I was here for longer, I would've looked into a soccer option. But for these two weeks, I've been all about my daily runs. There's a huge town athletic complex right across the street from the farm, and I've gone there plenty of times to use the track. And I've found that runs on the beach aren't bad, either. 
• Golf - For me, Florida and golf go hand in hand. I chose a February in Florida not because it would be nice enough to go to the beach, but because it would be nice enough to play golf. I've played a few afternoons each week, none better than my round at The Deltona Club. Florida soil is all sand, so when this course was redesigned a few years ago, much of the rough was replaced by white sandy waste areas (see the photo below). I'd never played a course with this look before. It didn't hurt either that it was a gorgeous day and that my drives were going straight. 
• Eat - I've enjoyed a lot of good cooking from Anna, a fellow WWOOFer from Poland, but it's also been fun to shop and cook for myself. Though I like to cook, I'm not the type of person who wants to prepare a meal for two hours before getting the chance to enjoy it. I'm pretty good at crafting quick, simple meals. And once in a while, I treat myself to a dinner in town. Last night I grabbed a few tacos at The Taco Shack and ate them overlooking the ocean as the sun set. 
• Write - I already knew I loved to keep this blog, but having another adventure so completely different than the first has been a great experience about which to write. I usually come to the public library after lunch and hunker down for a few hours of typing and catching up on the internet world (no wifi at the farm!). 
• Beach - I think it's fair to use "beach" as a verb here. The New Smyrna beach is a cool spot, good for runs, walks, or grabbing an ice cream cone slowly eating it in the warm ocean breeze. I have yet to throw a towel down on the sand and "sun bathe"--an idea that doesn't really appeal to me or my skin. Though I'm not dedicated to coming back home with a mid-summer tan, I've still had plenty of fun on the beach. 

Sandy waste areas replace nearly all of the rough at The Deltona Club

So there you have it, my life on and off the farm in New Smyrna Beach. It definitely feels like it's drawing to a close. I'm not ready to be done with Florida yet, and thankfully, I have two whole weeks more--this time with even fewer responsibilities. There are plenty of rounds of golf,  stops in Vero Beach, Placida, and Dunedin, and a whole lot of fun planned for everywhere I go. 

A Long Awaited Taste of Dunedin

A home-cooked Super Bowl, with golf on the side

My grandparents on my Dad's side--Mimi and Papa, as we call them--have been splitting time between Grafton, NY and Dunedin, FL for a long time. And for all this time, no one in my family has been to visit--until this past weekend. I knew that in my road trip south, seeing Mimi and Papa was inevitable, but thanks to the kindness of Kirk at the farm, I was able to sneak out for two days and see them even earlier than I expected. 

As we all know, the Super Bowl was played this past Sunday. Though I can't remember a Super Bowl that I've missed since the beginning of the Patriots' dynasty a dozen years ago, this trip across the state wasn't just about seeing the game. Two weeks working at a farm isn't all that drastic when you think about it, but after a long first week with plenty of ups and downs, it was an incredible feeling to be free again. I was going to Dunedin to relax, enjoy a few meals, and press the reset button before another week of farming. And seeing Mimi and Papa for the first time since August wasn't a bad deal either.

A beach panorama, just for fun

Even though I was only with Mimi and Papa for a night, it was nice to be in a real home again, not just a bunkhouse on the backroads of New Smyrna Beach. They live in a great location. Their home is close to pretty much everything important: the ocean, stores on every street, plenty of golf courses, Spring Training stadiums, and the cities of Tampa and St. Petersburg. Their longtime friends, Don and Lynn Disbrow, lived close as well, and that's where we ventured for Sunday's evening activities. 

The NFL dodged a bullet with this Super Bowl. I was fully content enjoying sandwiches and chicken wings and the conversation, but until the 49ers mounted a big-time second half comeback, the game had all the makings of a big letdown. To make matters worse, I decided to call home at halftime to wish my brother and my aunt Jess happy birthdays, and just after hanging up, the lights went out and we had to wait a whole extra half hour for play to resume. Had I known, I could've called home then!

Papa and I got an early start on Monday morning, but not before Mimi made sure I left with plenty of food. I received enough of their specialty breakfast bars to sustain me for the rest of my farming, plus plenty of snacks for the road. We drove to Westchase Golf Club for a morning with Papa's Monday golf group. At 8:30 sharp the sixty-odd men spread out across the course and begin play. We happened to start on the seventeenth, playing with Papa's friend Bill and another golfer named Chuck Butt. The was nice in a typical Florida fashion--lots of water, houses lining nearly every hole, and plenty of sets of tees to accommodate for the old guys. Some times it's nice to play a round where you can hit four-iron off nearly every tee. I didn't play the best golf of my life, but I didn't let any of the old guys beat me, and my approach on the par three eleventh won me ten dollars in the closest-to-the-pin competition. 

After the long round was over, we dined on the five dollar buffet in the clubhouse, and shortly after I was on the road back east. Saying goodbye was easy; if anything, the visit gave me more motivation to work hard for my second and final week at the farm. It's been a rewarding experience already, and one more week of labor will feel like nothing once I'm free to travel again. I don't want to look at my time in Florida as "two weeks on the farm" and then "two weeks of fun," because I have enjoyed myself here in New Smyrna. That being said, I know that there's so much waiting once the "vacation" begins. 

And one last piece of good news: I heard today that my sister has the good fortune of spending her February school break in Florida with my cousins the Storeys. So, not only do I get to see both of my grandparents, but I also get to spend time with my aunt and uncle, my cousins, and Miranda! And to Sam, who will be taking down Berkshire County competition on the hardwood while we're on the beach in Florida, I'll take you to Germany in a few years. For now, enjoy being a teenager (13 as of yesterday)!

A Little Farm in Florida

I arrived at Back To Earth Organic Farm on Monday, a day after turning eighteen. It had been an unforgettable week driving down the east coast, but I soon discovered that settling at the farm meant a complete change of pace in my life. I met Kirk, the owner of the farm, whom I’ll speak about later; received a tour his small property; and was told, “Have a good night, the work starts tomorrow.”

I have a hard time recalling any point in my life when I felt alone. Upset? Sure. Confused? Yup. Frustrated? Of course. Homesick? Definitely. But alone—truly alone? There were moments during my first few days at the farm when I felt more alone than ever before. Knowing that I couldn’t see a familiar face without driving across the state of Florida scared me, and there were times when I considered packing up my stuff and hitting the road. Then I realized that this was the real world. I planned this year so that I could have all types of experiences. Maybe it was the fact that my time in Germany so greatly exceeded my expectations, but I was not prepared for the culture shock of arriving at the farm. I felt like I had gone to a different side of the world. I knew I was well equipped, but for the first few days, loneliness got the best of me. Slowly, my thoughts turned from “I have to get out of here” to “Let’s just get through a few hours of work so I can go play golf” to “Two weeks here will seem like nothing once it’s all over.”  

I will save details about the farm, how Kirk operates, and my duties as a WWOOFer (WWOOF stands for World-Wide Opportunities for Organic Farmers) until next week, because I still have so much to learn about the place. But here’s my best attempt at generalization: the small property looks like it was chewed up, recycled, and then thrown in the middle of the jungle. Going back to the culture shock, I struggled to see how it could be considered a home, a farm, or both. When I think of a farm, I picture a big barn, a large country farmhouse, acres of open fields, and the smell of freshly mown hay. I don’t imagine an overgrown patchwork of sandy garden beds or hear the sounds of freight trains and airplanes. But for all intensive purposes, the latter is my farm and my home right now.

I like to think of myself as independent, confident, and mostly self-sufficient. Up until this point, I’ve always had someone there to provide meals, do my laundry, and make sure I’m healthy and happy. I went grocery shopping on my second day. Before, my “groceries” were whatever snack food I needed. But as I drove to the Winn Dixie a few miles from the farm, I started to make a list in my head. Water; orange juice; chocolate milk; Greek yogurt; bananas; eggs; Honey Bunches of Oats. Those were the things that were always there for me when I walked in the door, and buying them for myself felt strange. Is this what being eighteen is all about?

Marcus and his dog Taylor

And then there was laundry. I passed by the machine twenty times a day, but if it wasn’t for a twelve-year-old kid named Marcus, I probably still wouldn’t have gone near it. Here’s my story about Marcus: I got back from a late afternoon round of golf on Thursday, and as I pulled in, my headlights flashed over Marcus coming out the front door. His family rents part of the doublewide trailer, and they live just about as simple as anyone can. I parked the car and started to walk towards my bunk house, but Marcus stopped me. (By the way, he’s in sixth grade, but he can’t be more than 4’8”—with a voice as high as any kindergartener’s). “Can you help me hang my laundry,” Marcus asked me? “I can’t reach the clothesline. That was when it hit me that if a twelve-year-old is hanging his own laundry on a clothesline he can’t reach, then I could at least attempt to wash my socks and underwear. I went with Marcus to the machine and helped him dig the clothes out of the bottom—he couldn’t really reach those either. Then we walked the basket over to the line, and as I pulled down, he hung his wet clothes, just the way his mom liked them to be. The next day, I gathered up my dirty laundry, washed everything, hung it up to dry, and even folded it all before returning each item to my duffel bag.

It's been a challenging first week, and though my emotions have fluctuated around in circles since I arrived, it hasn't been without a lot of fun. I've had plenty of time to explore, which is something I've learned to do really well. New Smyrna Beach is a town with more than enough to keep me interested. From golf courses to the nearby sports complex where I run to miles of beaches, I'm glad I chose this place to settle down. I'll write a whole blogpost about the town once I get to know it more, and I feel by that time, I'll be packing up my things and preparing to move on. For now, I have a Super Bowl Sunday with my grandparents in Dunedin to look forward to--a two day break from the farm that at the very least seems well deserved. Though we all wish the Patriots were still in the running, I'm excited to see the game and to see my grandparents. Should be fun!

Sunset on the beach

Heading Down South to the Land of the Pines

Delaware, Davidson, and UGA

It didn't hit me until I passed through the bottom of Delaware that I was actually going south. Soon after leaving the Johnsons in Lewes, DE, I hit Maryland; then twenty minutes later, I was entering Virginia. The trees thickened as I followed Route 13, the Delmarva Peninsula narrowing as the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel drew nearer. Very little seemed modern along Route 13. The stores and houses had just enough wear and tear to be noticeable, but even though a gas station looks a little beat up, there's always gas in the tank. 

Cold air and blue skies as I drove across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel

I was especially looking forward to traversing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel during my long day of driving this past Wednesday. Not only did it seem like a scenic focal point, but my mother also wrote about this incredible feat of engineering in one of her novels. The linked bridges, causeways, tunnels, and a man-made island connect the tip of the Delmarva Peninsula to the Virginia mainland. It was perhaps the most surreal twenty miles of my journey--one that has taken me thousands of miles down the eastern seaboard. And so far, every mile feels worth it. 

Lewes, DE with the Johnsons

The last time I posted, I had just arrived at the home of Drew, Karen, Sam, and Luke Johnson. My family had visited them in Lewes before, but not in their new house. It's a beautiful spot--minutes from the center of town, the ocean, and the coastal preserves north of the town. Living near water can have a profound impact on everyday life, and the Johnsons definitely take advantage of their location. Just as I took my dog Pepper for runs everyday while I was home, Drew and the boys take their dog Cal to the beach after school without fail. Cal will chase his baseball up and down the beach, whether it's a warm summer day or the dead of winter. I endured a beach walk with Drew and Luke while Cal ran. The wind gusts did nothing to help the low-teens temperature, but it didn't stop Cal. The ocean is beautiful any time of year, but it was nice knowing that the Florida beaches will be much, much warmer. The Johnsons are used to it, though. Drew and the boys, especially Luke, are serious surfers. Year round, they'll catch waves off of the jetty. I can't imagine the water is ever warm, but that's the sacrifice if you want to surf on the Atlantic.

The Dogfish Head Brewery truck

I also had the privilege of dining with the Johnsons at Confucius, undoubtedly the best Chinese restaurant I've ever been to. The Johnsons knew the owner, and he cooked for us an absolutely over the top meal. I was told my orange chicken would be the best orange chicken I ever tasted, and it did not disappoint. We were presented with appetizers of the chef's choosing, and his shrimp tempura was some of the best shrimp I've ever tasted. Safe to say, I ate well and slept well in Delaware. It was a perfect stop. I was able to see family friends, talk with Sam and Luke about the upcoming summer at Dudley (Sam will be a Junior, and Luke is arriving as a Cub). I battled it out on the ping pong table with Luke, and had a fantastic time. 

On to Davidson, NC

Rested and ready for the biggest leg of my trip, I left Lewes last Wednesday for Davidson, NC. As I alluded to in the introduction, it was on this drive that I felt I was truly heading south. The speed limits were just a little higher, the gas prices just a little lower, and the temperature warming from single digits to above freezing. I had some pretty fantastic meals spanning from New Jersey to Florida, but my lunch that day of cold carrot ginger soup and wheat thins may have been the best.

Arriving at Davidson College late that evening, I felt worlds away from home, but as I soon discovered, I was really only easing myself into life in the South. Seeing my former AL and incredible Dudley friend James Frankel made the nine hours on the road worth it. We ran off to grab dinner at a not-your-typical fried chicken joint (very southern, I suppose), but as we drove through campus, it reminded me of any number of NESCAC colleges. And though I met a fair number of students from North Carolina, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see any of them at a school like Middlebury.

James showed me a fantastic time—from meals at Ferruci’s and Toast to our racquetball match to an economics class. Since I hadn’t been a student in a classroom since May of 2012, I was able to pay plenty of attention, despite the professor’s inanimate style. A highlight of the visit was our Thursday evening at the bowling alley. James’s entire fraternity hit the lanes for a few hours of friendly competition, over-the-top celebrations, and a few strikes here and there.

Davidson is a unique school—offering a high level liberal arts education, Division I sports, and a touch of southern hospitality. As a senior and president of Kappa Sigma Delta, James displayed a whole lot of pride in his school—very similar to the pride he’s had for Dudley for as long as I’ve known him. When there’s nothing else to talk about, we talk about Dudley. And that’s perhaps the best thing to talk about when you have two people who care so much for the place. 

As I left, I found myself thinking about returning again some day. I’ve been meeting a lot of new people during the trip, but none have quite lived up to the new friends I found at Davidson. James is a senior, but I would have no problem making a trip next year just to see his friends. 

A Birthday Weekend at UGA

If my time at Davidson was my easy transition into the South, then my weekend at the University of Georgia was when the South hit me square in the face. Willie Treiber, one my greatest friends, was brave enough to be a Georgia Bulldog, and though school with 35,000 in the student body was never on my radar, I’m glad I have a friend who took the risk. UPenn seemed big to me; UGA was hunormous. Willie resides on the first floor of a dorm with at least fifteen levels; and his was only one of a handful of other freshmen residences—all housing upwards of a thousand. He graciously let me break in his new UGA emblazoned futon, and I certainly slept well all three nights.  

Sanford Stadium, at the heart of the UGA campus

If Williamstown is a “college town,” then Athens is a “college city.” The campus is at the heart of the city, with the north end leading straight into downtown. And at the center of it all is Sanford Stadium—90,000 strong. I can only imagine the city exploding with people on a gameday, especially since the ‘Dogs have secured a place in the SEC elite. A few top recruits were in town for the weekend, and everyone knew about it.

I had such a fun time with Willie and his friends that I barely even thought about my eighteenth birthday. I was too busy snickering at southern accents, eating not-so-healthy food, and splitting my time between the dorms, the fraternity house, and downtown. Willie and I took on the home course of UGA alumns like Bubba Watson and failed pretty miserably—but I’ll take any golf I can get in the month of January. It was a little strange to turn eighteen, arguably the most important age distinction of my life so far, without many people knowing. But I would gladly sacrifice any birthday party for a trip like this one.

Post-script: A Few Thoughts on the South

The moon rose just as we finished on UGA's 18th

I know Texas is the only state that truly deserves to be its own country, but coming from the eyes of a New Englander, the South is as different as it gets. I’m glad I was able to take it (fairly) slow during my trip down from Massachusetts, because I had experiences I won’t find anywhere else. On my birthday, I spoke with parents and grandparents, and I told everyone that I was having a phenomenal time, but I also couldn’t have been happier that I chose Middlebury. I know for a fact that I will be happiest at a small school. And in traveling around my own country, I've realized how proud I am to have grown up in New England and on the shores of Lake Champlain. And even though I've only been gone from Williamstown for a little more than a week, I miss it more than I did when I was oceans away in Germany. I'm going to continue to enjoy my time in the South, see everyone I want to see, play a lot of golf, and learn more about my country and its people. It'll be a very short month of February, and before I know it, I'll be heading north to go back home.