Golf in North Dakota

When was the last time you read anything about golf in North Dakota? I'll bet you've never read anything about golf in North Dakota. Go on, check your golf guides. I'll wait. While you're thumbing through the pages I'll tell you that Golf Digest Almanac, which lists places to play in every state, notes only three courses in North Dakota, fewer even then Alaska.

I've waited long enough. Allow me to fill you in. The first thing you need to know is that there are more golf holes per capita in North Dakota than in any other state in America. Add them all up and only 15 states have more municipal courses than North Dakota. But what kind of golf can you expect on these deserted golfing fields?

My first stop is in Larimore, in the eastern plains of the state, hard by the fringes of the fertile Red River Valley. It is not quite 7:00 on a Monday morning but already I find myself behind three twosomes. From a bluff holding the fifth green I can scan the entire layout and count 23 golfers. Out of an entire town population of 1,524. In my home county back east we have 400,000 people and 4 courses. Translating the turnout in Larimore into eastern terms that would mean 1500 golfers on each course at each time. Maybe more golf holes per capita but also, apparently, more golfers per capita than anywhere else.

Is this what I've driven 2100 miles for? Luckily, no. As I play my way west over the next three days I play 18 courses across North Dakota. Rarely do I ever find a course as crowded as Larimore and on five occasions my greens fee buys me a completely private course. Most of the courses in North Dakota are 9-hole affairs; there are scarcely a dozen 18-courses in the Flickertail State. Greens fees range between $5 and $10 and can cover one loop or be good for the day.

The greens in North Dakota, without exception, are superb. The short playing season and lack of play conspire to create smooth, true putting surfaces. But I am seeking a relic of an earlier golfing age when woods were really crafted of wood and so were the shafts: North Dakota still boasts over 50 courses with sand greens.

At La Moure Memorial Golf Course, a hard 4-iron from the Canadian border, I ask about the whereabouts of courses with sand greens. Ah, you don't want to play on those things, offers the grizzled proprietor. Apparently every green in North Dakota was sand and oil until this past generation and most golfers harbor no desire to retreat to the pioneer days of golf. I, like Lawrence, must conquer the sand alone.

Traveling west along Route 2 I uncover my first sand greens in Bowbells. The course, however, looks the recreation oasis for a ghost town. The building that passes for a clubhouse is locked, the parking lot is empty and the cashbox by the first tee (many North Dakota courses operate on the honor system on slow weekdays) is bolted shut.

But the flags are flying in the greens, beckoning play. I hit a hard-running draw across a stream and up the first fairway before I discover why Bowbells looks like Shea Stadium in September. The rains that have laid waste to much of the midwest have drowned the bridges connecting one side of the course to the other. I salute my Slazenger golf ball good-bye and drive on.

I don't stop again until I've reached Canada. The Gateway Cities Golf Club is the only international golf course in the world with eight holes in Canada and the final hole in Portal, North Dakota. Alas, you don't tee off in America but walk across the border to start play in Canada.

The 9th hole, a 125-yard three-par, does afford the opportunity to hit from one country to the other. My tee shot, reads the sign, will cross the forty-ninth parallel and will land in the United States one hour later. A sparkling chip saves a par on the world's only international golf hole.

There are sand greens at Gateway Cities. A sand green is small and round and flat. The sand is saturated with oil and furrowed by heavy rakes used to groom the green after each play. You cannot stop a shot on a sand green, no matter how high and soft and magical your approach. Tip for putting on sand greens: Plan to hit the putt like it is three times as long as it is, then hit the ball three times as hard as you think you need to, then walk ten feet to the ball and do it all again.

Making my way west I play seven courses in one day. Edgewater Country Club in New Town peeks splendidly over historic Lake Sakakawea where the Missouri River becomes one of the country's biggest man-made lakes; Mohall Country Club evokes a Scottish links flavor; Painted Woods Golf Course in Washburn mingles with the Painted Woods Creek. I don't find any courses that are 'flat and tree-lined.' I cover the state from the river valleys of the east to the primordial Badlands of the west where, it was once said, the country looks like hell with the fires out. Good golf everywhere.

Making my way back I stop in Casselton, a crossroads of 1800 people known for its four native sons who made it to the North Dakota statehouse as governors. Off in the corner of the town is a square field which is, with a healthy imagination, a golf course spread among 9 sand greens. Use of the course is free and on this late August evening there is still activity.

A group of boys, having ridden over on bikes, are hitting shots around the 9th green, two young girls are playing up and down the 2nd and 3rd holes and a handful of serious golfers are attempting to forge a real round out of the weeds and sand and gnats. Here it seems is the real spirit of golf - a spirit not found on resort courses with Rockefellerish fees, a spirit that canÕt be reached by mandatory golf carts bound to macadam paths, a spirit lost under the crush of golfers on everyday courses. It's golf in North Dakota.