Casa de Campo
I play golf. I’ve been playing for a long time. And I have a wife who loves the game as much as I do, so when we travel we like to bring the clubs and play. We enjoy the experience of different cultures, different climates and different courses.
These sentiments are not entirely unique, of course. Many others feel, and do, the same. And a large leisure industry has grown up around this phenomena over the last 40 years. You can find golf destinations just about anywhere you’d like to go: Russia, India, Tierra del Fuego. You name it.
When considering a golf trip, the only issue for me is my feeling that, and I don’t intend any snobbery here, most destination resort courses are a little on the unnatural or artificial side. It’s understandable: the developer has a budget and he wants to sell the real estate, the natural resources are most probably modest to begin with, and the architect wants to make something with flash and pizzaz, please the developer and raise his own profile.
This results in golf courses that are amped up to look spectacular, almost as if they were created for promotion photos rather than the game itself. They have special features that are designed to make the course stick out, not unlike the bust line of a would be Hollywood starlet. It’s just standard operating procedure today for golf course architects to rely on the equivalent of silicon injections, nips and tucks, false eyelashes, heavy mascara, push up bras, and make up slathered on like paint. But I understand. It’s a competitive market and the architect feels like he has to deliver something new, or different, or spectacular, or noteworthy. I’m not knocking it, I’m just saying that these courses don’t appeal to me.
I prefer something with a more natural feel. Something that looks like it evolved from what was originally there. Something that’s obviously harmonious with the topography and locale. Something that’s not made up of excessive or incredible bunkering; artificially created or altered water hazards; water falls; man made rock formations; windmill holes; and spooky tunnels for the kids.
Billing itself as the best golf destination in the Caribbean, Casa de Campo in the Dominican Republic had a lot to prove in my eyes. And prove it, it did. There are three courses that are available to the visiting golfer, all designed by Mr. Pete Dye: The Links, The Dye Fore Course, and the famous Teeth of the Dog. And those three courses are best described, in my book, as: Nice; Truly Incredible; and, the Best Course that you are likely to ever play. My hat’s off to Mr. Dye for creating resort courses there that fit all of my specifications. Let me run them down for you.
“The Links”
Perhaps because the course seems relatively tame by comparison to its more famous kin, The Links, on first impression doesn’t overwhelm one. It looks like most other hot climate courses. It has a variety of water problems, lots of palm trees and flowering shrubs, Bermuda greens, soft sand in the bunkers, and thick overgrown natural hazards (in lieu of the wild fescues, heather and gorse one would see on a UK “Links” course, some of the holes feature wild native plants lining the fairways that look like small bamboos and that have to be cut down by machete). Oh, there’s lots of sculptural mounding, too. That is pushing the dirt up into little hillocks here and there to create tee boxes, definition, visual variety and penal areas. It even has the, by now, obligatory real estate development along many of the fairways. But my second and third rounds on The Links allowed me a closer look and higher appreciation of the course.
There is some real elevation change on the front nine providing just enough variety to give the course its own identity. This use of the native topography also allows for some interesting second and third shots up and down hills and across small rills or valleys. There are also a few fairways lined with dense low tree cover, so that on a number of holes one gets a nice suggestion of isolation. The trees also belie the Island location and remind one of a Parkland setting at times.
The water holes are all on the back nine, and even there, the water is used in a more interesting way than the first impression suggests. There are the usual par threes over the water. One expects that. But there are also a trio of 4 pars that are nicely thought out. The 12th dog legs to the right with water all along the right edge, with a good tee shot leaving a strong 8 iron to the waterside green. The 14th bends to the left with the hazard along the left. The wind generally blows against the player and down from the green making the first two shots really tough. A cracking good drive often leaves a two hundred yard shot to the slick and lumpy waterside green. The hole reminds me of the 18th at Doral. A real bruiser. The 15th looks benign asking for a simple tee shot across the water. But with the hole slightly to the left and the shore line fading away to the left, the tee shot becomes an exercise in daring or risk management, however you prefer to look at it.
But, as was the case with the other Pete Dye courses at Casa de Campo the real difficulty lurks around the greens. The visual panorama is often so powerful and so pleasing that one doesn’t realize that the real test comes with the short game. All in all, The Links, even with a little cosmetic help from the designer, passed my test as interesting, testing, a lot of fun and definitely a nice course to play.
The “Dye Fore” Course
I guess I’m just an old romantic at heart, a softy with soft spot for things beautiful. And “Dye Fore” got me. What a beauty. Built along the heights of the Chavon River, each of the nines has its own distinct personality.
The front, built first a number of years ago as a part of an original 18 where the real estate development along the heights was the primary objective, is a little tighter and more articulated, more detailed than the back. It has more of the architect’s touch about it. And slightly less of the wide open, random feel of the newer and larger back nine.
The wind is a big factor on this course as it blows up the river and off the water. There are only two ‘river’ holes on the front, numbers 4 and 5, but they are monsters, both down hill, both snaking to the left along the steep and completely wild river bank. They play into the ever present stiff wind. On each hole, the second shot is a true test of courage: two hundred plus yards to small greens. You are allowed to bail out right if you need to, have to, want to. But then you’re playing the hole as a 5 par.
Standing on the tees of 4 and 5 looking out and down at the River below reminded me of my High School days in San Francisco when we used to play all our matches at the City’s Lincoln Park Course. Set next to the Presidio, the 17th tee had a perfectly unobstructed view of the Golden Gate Bridge to the left and San Francisco Bay to the right. The water of the Bay was about a 200 yard carry, and it was obligatory to hit a couple of balls into the water before playing the par three 17th. We’d whack a Driver out at the Bay and watch the flight of the ball until it disappeared, 8 seconds, 9 seconds, 10 seconds, and then... splash down. Only a few didn’t make it.
The last time I was there I noticed that the City had put up a sign saying, “Don’t hit balls into the Bay.” I guess a few people got plunked. Anyway, looking down at the Chavon River was essentially the same type of view. And I began thinking... ‘I wonder if I could reach the water...’ And then just as I reached into my pocket for a ball, the next thought was, ‘No, you’re a grown up now. Act like it.’
By the time you turn away from the river and move over to the inland par three Sixth, you breath a real sign of relief. One other hole of note on the front side is the par 5 Eight. It’s an uphill dog leg left that features a blind second shot over hill and dale. It’s fun to crack a long fairway shot over the lone tree on the left hillside and then walk up and over and see where the pin is and what kind of third you’re going to have.
But as good as the front side is, this course is all about the back. It’s just golf heaven, plain and simple. I’ve never seen any place that was so inviting, so gorgeous, so embracing, so attuned to every instinct and impulse of my golf.
Presumably the Casa de Campo people wanted to expand their development to the North of the Clubhouse, land which previously had been wild and natural. They turned again to Mr. Dye. He scraped off basically all of the natural flora along the river heights and planted the whole area with a beautiful new type of grass that manifestly thrives there.
The effect is stunning. The holes are big: wide, wide, wide and long, long, long. They roll and tumble effortlessly over the terrain. It’s 7700 yards from the tips. If you didn’t have a cart, you might be looking for a dozen pack animals, or a handful of Sherpas. Paul Bunyon would feel right at home here. And so would his ox, Babe.
My impression at “Dye Fore” is that not much dirt has been moved around or mounded up. No sequence or grouping of traps has been created for visual effect. No water has been drained or gained. No architectural features appliquéd. No gimmicks. No tricks. Nothing added to make it unique or beautiful. Because it’s naturally unique and beautiful.
The effect is not unlike being out on the moors, or on a Scottish links, like St. Andrews, with miles of rolling green. And the wind howling off the water. Four holes out downwind along the river, and five back upwind, three along the river. Hit it as hard as you can. Hit it as long as you can. Where ever you hit it, except for the natural barrancas and waste areas the size of football fields, and those ever present river cliffs, you’re going to have a perfect lie. Whack it again and get it around the perfectly manicured greens and then confront the real Pete Dye. “Bring your short game” ought to be the motto of these courses. You have to pitch, chip and putt if you want to play to your handicap.
I loved this course. Like I said, it’s absolutely golf heaven and I can’t recommend it strongly enough. Whatever you do, before you quit playing, treat yourself to “Dye Fore” and see what the perfect golf course looks and feels like.
The “Teeth of the Dog”
Lest you think that I am carried away with “Dye Fore,” I am even more over the top about “Teeth of the Dog.” It quite simply is the best, the greatest, the toughest and the most beautiful golf course I have ever seen. And I’ve seen and played almost all of the top twenty.
I stayed in a nice room overlooking the tenth hole on both of my visits to Campo. Every morning, I’d sit out on my balcony with a cup of coffee and watch the maintenance men mow the 10th fairway, then mow the 10th green. Every morning! Wow, that was something. I didn’t know you could do that everyday. The traps were meticulously raked. There was even a man with a bag who policed the roughs and picked up the leaves that had fallen overnight! Are you kidding? They must be in the process of taking publicity photos was the only rationale I could come up with.
I had arranged to play the other two courses first, saving “Teeth of the Dog” until I was acclimated and warmed up. After having read so much about it, I wanted to be ready for it. My first time out, I remarked to the starter that I had seen the 10th mowed every morning. He confirmed that not only was the 10th mowed, but so was the entire course! All the fairways and all the greens. Every day. Even the tee boxes were cut every morning. Every single leaf, or broken tee, or scrap of paper was picked up. Every divot filled. Every blade of grass was perfect. Every one. You can’t find a blemish anywhere on this course. It’s absolutely perfect. Every morning. For whomever is going to play it that day.
I still have trouble believing this. Not only are they familiar with the concept of “Perfect,” they are intent on achieving it. Every day! When you step onto the first tee and look around, you feel like you’re going to play in the US Open.
That first hole is benign enough, almost yawning out there a friendly 400 yards or so. I’m looking at the course from the Gold Tees which play at 7077 yards. The tips are 7471, too much for me. Benign that is if you can hit the green with your second shot. As is the case with all these Pete Dye designs, a little long or a little short, or a little to the short side and there’s an exam question awaiting you.
After the first, it gets better and then better and then better still. The Second hole features a huge depressed waste area of sand and boulders that splits the fairway in two and runs down the left side of the first 300 yards of the hole. Whoa, that’s a visual that makes you back up a step. That requires some nerve and some accurate driving.
The Third is a par 5, and it typifies what must be one of Mr. Dye’s dictums: ‘no easy five pars.’ He seems to go out of his way to make these longer holes tough. You can’t stand on the tee and lick your chops and think you’re going to be looking at a birdie.
You can’t reach the Third in two from the back tees, and the small elevated crowned green will receive your wedge or nine iron only if you really stick it close. If you’re too near to an edge, you slide off down into the bunkers: sand or grass. And then you have to take the exam. And it’s tough.
There are no easy holes on this course, as the Fourth will testify. It’s handicapped as the 17th most difficult. Ha! Four hundred forty three (443) yards into the wind, into a tiny lumpy slick as glass green? With the ocean holes coming up next? If you’re getting strokes, make sure you’re getting 17, because you’ll need one here.
If you walk off the Fourth with a par, you’ll be feeling pretty good about yourself. Until you stand on the Fifth tee, that is, and look downwind 160 yards to the tiny, tiny, tiny little speck of a green sitting out there amongst the crashing waves of the Caribbean. Wham, it just hits you in the face. “I have to play that?” Holy cow! This is intimidation of the first order. A hair to the left: rocks and water. A hair short: rocks and water. A hair long: gone. You can bail right, but it ain’t no picnic from the jungle over there either.
Okay, you negotiate it, and you’re past the first ‘ocean hole’ and thinking, “maybe I can handle this.” Think again. Here comes number Six, the number one handicap hole: 474 brutal yards of par 4 along the cliffs and water. At least the green isn’t right on the water, but it’s just so impossibly long that after you’ve carried the 250 yard drive over the cliffs to safety in the fairway, you’ll wish you could tee it up and hit the Driver again. And it’s about here that the reality begins to hit you: you’re going to have to hit every club in your bag -- 2 irons, 3 irons, 4 irons, Spoons, Baffys, even an old Brassie if you could find one. And I mean nail them.
But your view of the Sixth green soothes all this angst and turmoil as it’s one of the prettiest on the course, sitting languidly among a few stately and gracious palms, with the roiling blue water as a backdrop as if to say, “don’t worry, be happy.” Yeah.
The sun shines. The grass is as green as young corn. The water is crystal clear and blue and indigo and aquamarine and jade. The wind wafts gently. But there’s no time to catch your breath or admire the incredible natural beauty of the place. You turn your attention to the next problem at hand, look at the Seventh and gulp again at what you see.
You’re on the edge of the Island, another par three that dramatically sits out there over all that water 224 yards yonder. I had the immediate thought, “this is like playing the 16th at Cypress or the 18th at East Lake. Only over and over and over again. Too bad Dante didn’t see this before he wrote The Inferno, it surely would comprise the eight ring of Hell.”
There’s a bunker that curls along the front and left. Bunkers behind and a little hillock in the rear with a few trees that allows you a margin of depth perception. Again, you can bail right. But it’s the Teeth of the Dog, right? Who wants to play it as a par four? Take your Baffy or four metal and crack it.
You come off that green thinking, “Are we done yet?” Not quite. Here comes Numero Ocho, the number 3 handicap hole. Another monster carry from tee to fairway, not unlike the 18th at Pebble. If you hit a fantastic drive and net yourself position “A,” then a stinging seven or eight iron into the wind hopefully finds the green that sits up across a hidden swale. Enough with the water already. Let’s get outta here. Where’s number Nine?
Nine is another Pete Dye par five: you cannot reach it in two. As you head back in towards the clubhouse sitting up there on the hilltop, the fairway narrows about 470 yards out forcing you to play a “possession shot” as the Scots call it for your second, and setting up a hundred yard third up the hill to a green that you can’t see and that’s murder to hold. A fraction from perfect left, right, short or long equals trouble. Par is a good score here, as is the case on all the par fives.
Okay. You made the turn. You gulped a water and took a deep breath. Actually you might be ready for a beer. Or lunch. Or both. Surely the back nine isn’t as taxing as the front.
Ten is one of those half bunker, half fairway holes. Shortish at 396, but with the demanding second shot that requires a precise read on the remaining yardage. An old concrete aqueduct runs diagonally through the fairway creating two distinct levels before losing itself in the combination bunker waste area that comprises the entire left side. Like the first hole, it’s a “mild” beginning to the nine. It doesn’t scream immediate distress. It doesn’t create panic.
Eleven, however, is the end of that. Hit the panic button. Another of the long 5 pars with trouble all over the place and the trickiest, nastiest, most difficult little green on the course. It’s a little table top surrounded by impossible bunkers. Eleven looks harmless from the tee as it snakes left and then right down into the far trees. But it’s far from harmless. A mistake anywhere and you’re unlikely to recover and find the par. On the third playing of the hole, I finally managed to get to the lay up sweet spot about 60 yards out and from there was able to hold a wedge on the putting surface. I had to work hard for a twenty foot two putt, though.
Twelve is just another routine killer par 4 at 451 yards. Bang away with your drive and you’re still looking in the bag for a rifle. Miss the tee shot by a fraction and you have no hope of getting there. In fact, it’s about here that you start to think you have no hope at all, anyway. It’s demanding, demanding, demanding. The course has got you in its grip now and it’s starting to grind you down and wear you out. The weak of mind are broken here. It’s surprising that the place isn’t littered with skulls.
So you look at the scorecard and see that Thirteen is the number 18 handicap hole. A breather? Don’t get your hopes up. It’s a par 3 directly into the sea breezes that makes the 180 actual yards play to 200 or 205. And this is to an elevated green that is completely, entirely encircled by an excessively large bunker. You have to tramp through the bunker to get to the green. Bring your sand wedge, and maybe a sandwich or two, you’re going to need it. And not for any simple little pop out shot either. I hit the bunker three out of three tries and the shortest shot therefrom was about 25 yards. Bona Fortuna.
Ah, that brings us to Fourteen, my nemesis hole. Another 5 par that just defies you to make par. A huge waste area to the right off the tee is complemented by a little room to the left. Of course, if you go left that makes the green which sits down the right hand side behind a lagoon about 500 yards out even further away. The choked down fairway most likely means you’re playing a third shot that’s anything from a screaming seven iron to punched nine into the prevailing wind. The hole sits on the finger tip of the elevated green demanding, then defying, your best efforts.
Now we come to the waters of the Caribbean again. Fifteen, Sixteen and Seventeen follow the shore line on your way back in, the water being to your right this time. The wind blows off the sea of course, thus accounting for the extreme length and difficulty, and the pain that you’re about to experience.
Though Fifteen seems short, yardage wise, at 374, the wind adds 40 to 50 yards to it. And the green sits out on a small promontory right next to the water with a very steep 30 - 40 foot drop off around the front and right side. The hole is usually tucked in the back right near the water’s edge so that some approaches have to carry a part of the surf in front.
That second shot with the tail end of it over that little bit of the water looks like a sucker shot. And it is. But then, the only safe way to play this is to keep it left off the tee and left again as you approach the hole. If you choose this option, you’re counting on your ability to get it up and down from somewhere in Hades in order to make par.
The first time I played this hole, my tee shot left me on the right of the fairway near the cliffs. I had what I thought was 130 yard shot with the last little bit over the water. I saw the “sucker” aspect to it, but thought I was up to the task. With the wind the obvious major difficulty with which to contend, I knocked down a perfect 7 iron... gone forever in the surf.
A hundred and thirty yards? Disbelieving, I dropped another ball, and this time put more pop behind the punch. Boom, it exploded off the club face and flew straight for the hole. Then it stopped in mid air like wounded pheasant and fell helplessly into the water. What? I flashed back to the Eight at Royal Troon, The Postage Stamp, 130 yards and you just can’t get it there, the wind being so strong! Now upset, I dropped a third and pulled out the six iron. Bang again. This time with a little too much roll of the wrists and the ball went left. At least it stayed dry.
“Okay,” I thought as I walked toward the green, “I hope I learned something there. Like, when you think it’s a sucker shot, DON’T TAKE THE BAIT!”
Fifteen was fun, a little comic relief, if you will. But Sixteen is the Teeth of the Dog signature hole. Apparently Mr. Dye couldn’t get the jagged and rocky coast line out of his mind one night and decided that the course ought to be named for that fearsome, snarling, tooth-like look. You won’t be able to get it out of your mind either, once you look at the hole and see what he saw. It would bring forth nightmares in anybody.
It’s a 224 yard carry over the ‘teeth’ and over the cliffs and over the water to the par three green that sits laterally across your line. Plenty of room to the left where the prevailing wind is likely to carry you. Of course you’re basically locked out over there with trees, roads, weeds, bunkers and the like. If you’re short or right you have lost another to the pirate of the Caribbean in the rocks and water below.
If you had a Scottish caddy with you at the time, he’d probably say with complete equanimity, “aim out over the water and let the wind bring it back in.” Sure.
My first go around, I got my ball on the green but right next to the right hand edge of the cliff. And as I stood over it to putt, the wind whipping at my shirt, my right foot was a mere 10 inches (No Kidding! 10 inches!) from the edge of the cliff and the waves crashing below. I swear I could feel the earth start to give way under that right foot as I stroked the putt. I almost ran after it! Wait a minute, what kind of thought is that to be having when you’re trying to get it close from 40 feet? Especially for someone with acrophobia.
It’s the Teeth of the Dog, friend, and it’s got a hold of the seat of your pants, or maybe it’s the seat of your brain, and isn’t going to let go for anything. If it wasn’t so beautiful and so perfect, you might think about uttering a muted cry for help. But you can’t. You’re trapped between ecstasy and agony, every fiber of every nerve tingling with pain and pleasure. What kind of uttering would that be? It’s too hard? It’s too beautiful? It’s too classic? It’s too unforgettable? It’s too perfect? Help me, please. Someone?
The Seventeenth tee is directly behind the Sixteenth green. Small and simple and very unassuming, it belies the fact that you’re about to play the hardest hole on the course. Take everything I’ve already mentioned about length, wind, water and hard to hit greens and double it. That’s what the Seventeenth is like. Four hundred and thirty three (433) yards into the gale, to a tiny little green that doesn’t want to surrender anything, much less putts, even if they’re little bitty three footers. You just have to blast away, and then blast away again. And hope you find it and hope you stay dry.
From 200 yards out, I hit probably the most perfect two iron ever hit by man to within 15 feet. Given the overwhelming beauty and difficulty of the hole, I think I’ll never forget it. Check that, I know I will never forget it. Period. Nothing else to say. Except that two putting was equally as great a feat.
I always thought the Eight at Pebble Beach was the scariest and most beautiful and most perfect hole I’d ever seen: the blind tee shot and then that long cliff top iron over the water way below you to the dime sized cliff side green. But the Seventeenth at Teeth of the Dog is as scary, as beautiful and as perfect. It’s like comparing Michaelangelo and Leonardo. Pick ‘em.
In an interesting little bit of psychic relief, the owner of Casa de Campo has a more than gorgeous house right there on the coast behind the Seventeenth green. It looks a little like the Michael Corleone house in The Godfather II, that Lake Tahoe mansion with the boat dock, heli-pad, guard gates, etc. It’s interesting because it takes your mind off of what you’ve just seen and done. And that’s play a stretch of three holes that you are unlikely to see the like of again. Wow, is all I can say.
Let’s go home. Eighteen takes us there. By this time you’ve been drawn and quartered and you’re waiting to have your head mounted on a pike by the front gate, so you’re not surprised to see another brutal and piteously long 4 par. It’s 445 yards with the last hundred or so over a reservoir of water and then up the clubhouse hill. Thinking about hitting the green with your second shot? It’ll have to be a 200 yard plus whistler that somehow holds the slab of marble green. I was so overcome by getting there in two that I proceeded to three putt with relative ease.
My goodness, what a golf course. It just wrings you out. Takes everything you thought you knew about yourself and your game and turns it inside out. It reveals all: all your strengths and all your weaknesses; all your frailties, all your courage and all your nobility. It’s exhilarating. It’s painful. It’s euphoric. It’s agonizing. But it’s oh so beautiful that you forgive it all its cruelty.
And like anything that’s beautiful, it’s complex. You have spend some time with it and get to know it a little. You have to taste it a few times before understanding all the delicious flavors involved. If you love the game, and you want to do yourself the ultimate favor, spend a week at Casa de Campo and play the Teeth of the Dog three or four times. It will change your appreciation of the game forever. It might even change your life.
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