The look of horror and disgust from the lady was exactly what I had hoped to avoid. "Watch out for the Seagulls" I muttered as I brushed past past her on the way to the locker room. In retrospect, I doubt that she played that day.

I had come up from the tourist trap called Russel the day before to play Kauri Cliffs, one of the premier golf courses in New Zealand. Stuck way the hell and gone north of Auckland, this stretch of coast was called the Bay of Islands. The course itself was built on a bluff overlooking the Pacific. I had seen pictures of it in golf magazines  and watched a Shell World of Golf match between Fred Couples and Michael Campbell. The course featured views that could rival Pebble Beach. It was number one on my list of places to play.

I discovered just how remote this area was when I went looking for nearby lodging. (I've been known to "wing it" when it comes to where I spend the night. So far I've avoided sleeping in the car.) In a personal best display of "Parking Karma" I stumbled into a rustic little resort a few miles beyond the course and snagged the last available accomodations for the night. I had to rent the whole house but it was worth it! The resort had one of the most idyllic settings imaginable. Consisting of only 7 old wooden frame buildings it was right on a little picturesqe cove. My trip had been pretty hectic up to this point so it was wonderful to spend the afternoon comfortably ensconced in a lawn chair, sipping a beer, and enjoying the scenery. The main lodge served dinner that night and I was paired up with a charming couple from Toronto. (I won't go into what they thought of their health care system.)

After a good nights sleep I drove directly over to the course. The resort didn't serve breakfast but I assumed I could get something to eat before teeing off. (Kauri Cliffs has several suites to rent so eating facilities were a given.) The staff was gracious in setting me up for play but got a stricken look on their face when I asked where to get some breakfast. It seems that because they'd had no overnight guests the kitchen was closed. The thought of going all day without sustenance had me in a panic until one of the young men said he would put something together and bring it out to me.

I was then introduced to another single who would play with me. John was a 6 hdcp player from New Jersey. He'd left the family in Russel to do tourist stuff and popped up for the day to golf. As we warmed up on the range I found out he was soil broker. He provided all kinds of dirt for projects up and down the East Coast. As a golf pro I should know better but like most people I just think of dirt as, well, dirt. He got all excited talking about the difference between top soil versus fill. Making the mistake of looking interested I was then informed that there was 12 different soil orders with 64 suborders. For example, the soil in the Midwest has a thick black layer because of the temperate climate and thick grasses whereas the desert soil is more light colored and low in organic matter. Of course the presence of lime or gypsum had a effect as well as the carbonate content. I admire a man who loves his work but this was too much to take in on an empty stomach.

Just as we were starting the young man showed up with a sack containing a fried egg sandwich. In the excitement of playing I didn't get around to taking it out until the third hole. Taking a huge bite I discovered to my horror that the egg inside the sandwich was "easy over". (When I cook an egg that sucker is done!) The yoke squirted out the bottom and wiped out the front of my shirt and pants. Now, I don't know if you've ever worn egg yoke. (not recommended) It is slick, sticky, and does not wipe off worth a damn. John immediately agreed to suspend play and we headed back to the clubhouse.

So this is how I ended up ruining that lady's day while trying to salvage my own. I probably shouldn't have blamed my appearance on the birds but sometimes things just fly out of my mouth. In the locker room I stripped down to my underwear and, with a combination of hot water and hand soap, managed to wash the yolk off. Now, of course, my clothes were soaked. I tried to dry them using one of those annoying machines that saves trees but gave up after a few minutes. Walking back through the pro shop in sopping wet clothes I jauntily waved at the countermen and rejoined my sympathetic playing partner. (The lady was gone. I didn't check the parking lot.) The tee times there are 30 minutes apart so we were able to continue without holding up play. Fortunately, it was a warm day so by the end of the first nine I was pretty much dry and presentable.

Aside from a few lost balls the back side was played without incident. John was a good player and, once he got off the subject of dirt, proved to be an enjoyable companion. After four charming holes that wound through a narrow valley we were treated to some of the most spectacular golf you'll ever experience. Holes 14 through 17 ran along 200 foot cliffs overlooking the sea. The combination of blue/green water and numerous rock outcroppings was so scenic I wanted to just pitch a tent and spend the night. It was easy to see why people plunked down big bucks to stay at the lodge.

Despite the fact that, in addition to a one-bite breakfast I had to do laundry in the middle of my round, I enjoyed Kauri Cliffs immensely. The back nine, in particular, was a joy. The $400 green fee is stiff but I was told that members of the New Zealand Golf Assoc get a big discount. (I think you could join online before you go.) I also recommend the sister course, Cape Kidnappers. Located south of Auckland in the middle of wine country, it also is a challenging track with some spectacular holes. 

 If you get hungry I recommend you stick with the fish and chips.

DKD