So back then, got this itch to try Eastport’s Valley course. Heard people whispering ’bout those tricky slopes everywhere. Grabbed my clubs – mostly old stuff but trusty – and just showed up early morning. Sun wasn’t even full up yet, kinda hazy.
Starting off rough, first tee shot felt awful. Shanked it right into some tall grass. Lost a damn ball already. Had to take the penalty, felt stupid. Walked down muttering to myself like an idiot. Found my rhythm maybe by hole 3? Started using those low irons more, trying to keep things rolling along the ground. Wind picked up too, messing with everything.
Middle section was where things got wild:
- Tried a crazy downhill putt on hole 7. Ball rolled forever, almost stopped near the cup… then trickled six feet past. Nearly threw my putter.
- Hole 9 had this blind shot over a little ridge. Took a gamble with the 5-iron. Heard a thump. Walked up scared… landed near the green! Pure luck.
- Damned bunkers ate two good shots. Sand felt like wet cement. Took three swings just to get outta one.
- Phone died halfway through hole 14. Couldn’t track shots anymore. Dumb mistake, charging it overnight slipped my mind. Resorted to guessing yardages.
The real killer was that final stretch. Legs felt like jelly. Hole 17 has this brutal uphill approach. Took a swing, felt good… looked up, ball dropped straight into the pond right in front. Just groaned. Finished hole 18 in total fog, couldn’t care less about the score. Just dropped the ball near where I thought it landed and putted out.
Overall? Messy. Wind kicked my butt, slopes won some battles. Need way more core exercise, that much is clear. But man, hitting that one perfect iron shot that landed soft? Almost makes you wanna come back and get beat up again next weekend. Almost.
