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Raising Minnesota
By Joel Zuckerman - Special to Shark.com
It's safe to say that Minnesota doesn't appear on many golfers list of Top
Ten Destinations. We pine for Pinehurst, head to Hilton Head, scurry to
Scottsdale, and find Mecca in Monterey.
Minnesota, where the four most
popular pastimes are perceived to be hockey, ice fishing, snowmobiling and
shoveling, is miles below the radar, and doesn't rate a thought. Let me tell
you, it should rate several.
There are more than 450 courses in this upper
midwestern state, home to approximately 4.5 million residents. Minnesota has
more golfers per capita than any other state in the Union, and is the only
state to have hosted all 13 of the different national championships sanctioned
by the United States Golf Association.
A decade ago the Brainerd Lakes region of central Minnesota, almost three
hours northwest of the Twin Cities, was best known as a getaway for fishing,
recreational boating and water sports, and home to the bigger-than-life
statues of the mythical Paul Bunyan and Babe, the Blue Ox. Legend has it
that Bunyan's giant footsteps created the area's myriad lakes.
In 1990 the
landscape began a subtle shift from lakes to links, with the opening of The
Pines at Grand View Lodge. These 18 holes, which expanded to 27 some five
years later, were the region's inaugural foray into the world of the upscale
destination course.
The Pines begat a host of other dazzlers, including
Arnold Palmer's tribute to his father, Deacon's Lodge, the presumptuously but
not inaccurately named The Classic at Madden's on Gull Lake, and the 27-hole
Robert Trent Jones Jr. designed Legacy Course at Cragun's Resort. All four
courses are exceptional, none more so than Palmer's effort.
Like the king in
his prime, Deacon's Lodge is muscular, bold and dramatic. With wide,
sweeping fairways, many tumbling downhill from elevated tees, there's plenty
of room and reason to swat drivers all day. The Classic was designed by
course superintendent Scott Hoffmann, who consulted with the well known New
England based architect Geoffrey Cornish. The first three holes of this
knockout skirt the pristine waters of Bass Lake, and then things really get
pretty. Trent Jones's Legacy offers multiple tee boxes, multiple forced
carries and multiple approach options on land so pristine it's been
designated a certified sanctuary by Audubon International.
A day or so later we were heading to tiny Lutsen, on the shores of Lake
Superior, and passed near the small town of Hibbing on our way to the coast.
Hibbing is the boyhood home of two men to be admired, Kevin McHale and Robert
Zimmerman. McHale should be familiar to all basketball fans, while
Zimmerman, who changed his name to Bob Dylan, should be familiar to everyone
else.
Speaking of Dylan, the times they are a-changing in Minnesota, but not
nearly as fast as other places. The lodges, resorts and inns we visited were
Lincoln Log buildings come to life. They were comfortable, appealing, rustic
and historic but virtually dormant. It's almost a cross between life in the
50's and a 'G' rated movie; our evening activities were normally a choice
between dinner, ping pong, a cold draft beer and a pool table.
The golf
schedule we were following was grueling to the point where we didn't care,
but the intimation is pretty simple. There are plenty of traveling golf
buddies who can't wait to get out of their own house so they can spend every
night in the Doll House. It's not happening here, and those who crave the
nightlife are likely to be disappointed.
In a journey full of highlights, the finest six hours were spent touring all
27 holes at Superior National in Lutsen. Unless you happen to find yourself
somewhere between Duluth and Thunder Bay, Ontario, then it's unfortunate
you'll likely never experience this remarkably lovely golf course.
Superior
National is adjacent to the largest ski hill in the Midwest, and like many
mountain courses in Vermont, is a bit shaggy, unkempt and rough around the
edges. But a round here offers the delightful incongruity of mountain
terrain, complete with plunging tee shots and rushing rivers, juxtaposed with
scintillating views of Superior shimmering in the background.
I've made
countless birdies and a handful of eagles in my day, but for pure animalistic
thrills, it would be hard to top the two moose sightings we were privileged
to witness on the fairways of this beguiling track. Swahili is easier to
read then the grain on their greens, but scoring is secondary to the pristine
wilderness experience that this golf course offers.
After dinner, back in a
lakeside condo so close to the shore you could fall asleep to the sound of
lapping waves, there was time to reflect on the round. The golf display was
Rocky, but didn't really matter. I was still in awe of Bullwinkle.
It was a daunting task, but we fulfilled our Minnesota quota. Six days,
eight courses, 850 miles, and more than 150 holes of superior golf, 27 of
which should probably be described as Superior golf. To complete an
itinerary like this, you have to have a hardy constitution and really love
the game, which aptly describes a good percentage of the local population.
We
traversed from Grand Rapids to Grand Marais, ate plenty of walleye and wild
rice soup, embraced Lutsen and avoided Lutefisk. (A local delicacy -- some type
of fish cured with lye. Better not to ask.) Although the journey was of
short duration, it was intense, and the immersion in this northland culture
was so complete, I even began to pick up some of the local lingo.
A
solicitous airline reservationist inquired about the trip, then asked if I
would ever consider coming back. "Yah," I replied, grinning ear to ear,
nodding my head effusively. "You betcha!"
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