The Mountains Bring Peace To The People

The Mountains Bring Peace To The People
Andrew Penner

I grew up in the northern prairies. In winter, fierce snow storms blasted through town on a regular basis. For six snowbound months, the only living things on the golf courses were rabbits with white coats. In summer, after the golf course greened, the hot winds blew in from the west – and with them, bugs. Lots and lots of bugs. Then one summer I discovered golf in the mountains. As a born-and-raised flatlander – frozen, welted, then sunburned, for that is how it went - it was pure and unabashed glory.

Maybe it’s because I’ve played a thousand rounds of golf on the wind-swept, sun-scorched prairies. Or maybe it’s because I’ve quit rounds of golf on gorgeous summer days because I’ve looked down and seen, literally, five thousand mosquitoes feasting on my legs. Or maybe it’s because I’ve found it rather unrewarding, humbling, hitting shot after shot into dusty, gale force winds. But I’d rather play golf in the mountains…any day.

Eagles soaring over snow-ringed peaks and granite cathedrals thrusting into clear, blue skies. Trees creaking in gentle - did you get that? - gentle mountain breezes and emerald-green lakes shimmering against rock-lined shores. Fairways and greens pinched between the trees and springy turf that’s moist with mountain air. Can golf be played in a more scenic arena than the mountains? No way.

I got my first real taste of mountain golf in Banff, Alberta. A Stanley Thompson masterpiece that jigs along the Bow River and traverses beneath the gothic grandeur of the Banff Springs Hotel, Banff is, by many connoisseurs of the game, the finest mountain golf course ever built. It's price tag to build in 1927? A million bucks. The first course in history to break that mark. It’s simply breathtaking.

And I will never forget the first time I played it. For one thing, I couldn’t afford the green fee. I was a young kid on my way to college. I had $75 greenbacks in my pocket – food and gas money pops gave me. The student loan wasn’t in the account yet. Beer would have to wait. But golf? In Banff? In the mountains? No. We would find a way.

I snuck by the starter and hopped onto the first fairway with a threesome that had just teed off. “Starter told me to join you guys. I’m a single.”

“No problem. What a day, huh? Gorgeous here,” he said.

I caught my breath, looked up, and saw the morning sunlight bouncing off the snow-frosted ramparts high above us. “Ya, it’s pretty nice.”

I did like it there. And I liked it in Montana, British Columbia, Washington, Idaho, Oregon, Austria, Switzerland, and France – all areas where the horizons explode with rock. All areas where the golf ball soars against panoramas that speak peace.

Of course, that is one of the nicest things about playing mountain golf: the golf ball is eager to fly. In some cases, especially above 8,000 feet, you can get 20% more distance on your shots. Who in his right mind would turn that down? Well, ok, so you might overshoot the first green or two and make a couple of sloppy bogies. But the adjustment of going down a club is hardly burdensome.

And in the mountains you have wildlife: deer, elk, moose, bear. A course I used to work at in the mountains – oh, yeah, did I mention I took a job working at a mountain course for four years? – had black bears scampering about on a regular basis. Although they weren’t quite the soft, cuddly type, these bears were anything but the mean, ferocious beasts they’re sometimes made out to be. You go along your business, they seem to go along theirs. When we try to interfere, or get too close, now that’s when wild animals and golfers don’t make for a good twosome.

Undeniably, some of the world’s most scenic courses are found in the mountains. Banff, of course, is one. (And no, I didn’t get busted. And yes, I’ve since apologized and never done anything so foolish again.) But I, as I’m sure do you, have other favorites. Jasper Park Lodge, another Thompson gem in the Canadian Rockies, is another on my list. Here the closing stretch curls around a surreal-looking mountain lake, the snow-capped peaks casting perfect reflections in the water, melding with the checkerboard fairways to form a sight that’s truly divine.

Bob Hope, Marilyn Monroe, and James Dean used to hide – and play golf – in Jasper. Here they weren’t bombarded by too-eager fans and money-hungry agents – they were swarmed by the majesty of the mountains. And it soothed them and set them at ease, if only for a while.

The Banffs, the Jaspers, the Tahoes, they will always have a magical aura, a pulling power, that the dusty, bug-infested courses of prairies and condo-lined courses of the cities can never match. Because, as it is written, “the mountains bring peace to the people.” And peace is a good thing.