Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Of Bears, Beers, and Aching Calves.
Of all the golf courses I've played at, Bear Mountain reigns supreme.
Forget reigning - Bear Mountain takes the other golf courses, kicks their whinny little asses and sends them packing like the bitches they are.
As you can tell, I'm somewhat enamored with the course. As thrilled as I was to get a chance to play in the Thrifty Foods tourney, it was where we were playing that excited me the most, and the course didn't disappoint.
The treatment by the staff was phenomenal - it was like I was a touring Pro, not some shmoe from the sticks. The place just screams class and money, and the only other place I've been to that has the same feel in the air would be Whistler.
The greens, the fairways, the course is immaculate and in tip top condition. Too bad there were a bunch of drunks playing on it, but we had a fun time.
My team was a great group - I knew one guy already, and the other two were really nice. My cart-buddy was the most fantastic bastard of an Englishman I've ever met, and I could have sat and listened to him drink, curse, and laugh all day.
And drink I did. At Campbell River events, you have a choice of Lucky, Kokanee, or Coors Light. Not bad, but not my favorite brews. Yesterday I drank nothing but Sleemans, Alexander Keith's, Stella, and the odd G&T. And that was all from the Beer Cart. They must have known we had an Englishman in the group because the cart never seemed to be more than 3 minutes away.
So after a Lunch that stuffed me, 18 holes that drowned me in Beer, and a Dinner where the steak was cut with a butter knife, what do I regret?
I regret not resting my calves today. Although there was a cart, there's lots of walking in golf, and I was on the side of a mountain... Of my 3 mile run today, it wasn't until mile 2.5 that they started to loosen up and not be stiff as boards. (Putting them through 6 miles of hills tomorrow to show 'em who's boss.)
I'd love to be able to go back to Bear Mountain. And here's to hoping I get my wish.