Every Bogey Will Be Like A Par

Shirley and I faced strong gusty winds and a cold sunny winter day for our first 18 holes on the George Fazio Course.  We pushed our tee time from 10am to noon, optimistic that the 2 or 3 degrees of warmth we'd gain would make a difference.  But quite honestly, there's not much difference between 40 and 42 degrees when the wind's blowing at 20+ mph.

The Great Escape: Hilton Head Island

For pro golf fans, Hilton Head Island means the Heritage Classic.  For Snow Birds, Hilton Head Island means trading the misery of snow and slush for the gentle world of sand, surf, and bike trails and unbelievably juicy oysters.  Well, for everyone who's ever ventured onto the island, Hilton Head means unbelievably juicy oysters.

For history buffs, Hilton Head Island calls up a vast sweep of historical memory that pre-dates the Pilgrim's landing on Plymouth Rock, extends through the era of great indigo, rice, and cotton plantations that created unbelievable wealth for a privileged few through the labor of a vast, dark-skinned forced labor force, continues through a military-managed rehearsal for the failed economic transformation of the South during the late 19th Century, to an early 20th Century era of sand roads and clapboard housing and sport fishing in Port Royal Sound.

And for those of us who just love to play golf, Hilton Head Island means a choice more than 20 world-class golf courses, a dizzying set of options that are all good.  That's what drew Shirley and me away from our post-holiday domestic mop-up chores to a quick, 2-day escape.