Golf Utah

Golden Bear, Jack Nicklaus, heads west to mold his 200th U.S. Golf Course around Utah’s Red Ledges

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Jack Nicklaus Signature Course

The morning air blanketed the course. Perched 150 feet on native burnt orange crag, is the 427-yard par 4. Its stunning view overlooks the neighboring Park City and Deer Valley ski resorts. Mercy lies on the tee box, a Nicklaus trademark, and it is the only place where it will be found. According to general manager, John Johnson, besides being most-forgiving off the tee, Nicklaus generally favors holes with a left to right ball flight. As scenic as it is challenging, this slight dog-leg right makes driver tempting, but a fairway wood is a safe choice. Drives bombed through the hole’s left side is five minutes wasted sifting through rocks, sage bushes and fallen carcasses.

Thanks to Nicklaus the dry, bent grass fairways welcomed my drives with open arms (for the most part) and that 20-yard, newly sodded terrain bounce was an added bonus. It was, however, after my tee shot where the real fun began. “You don’t want to go long on this green,” forewarned Johnson in the fairway at the first. “Got it,” I thought. My ball soared over the green and into another one of Nicklaus’ hallmarks—penal bunkers. I treated myself to a nifty down hill, down grain shot. Standing in the small pot bunker behind the green was my first reminder of Nicklaus’ affinity for the Scottish links

“Don’t forget about altitude,” stressed Johnson to our group. We all nodded like helpless pupils in our first lesson in Golfing Above Sea Level 101. For the rest of the day Johnson was a verbal yardage book. With each shot I would overhear him going through a pre-shot yardage routine for our benefit: 170 yards minus the altitude, add an extra 10 yards for the incline, the winds in our face, but the hole drops off about 50 yards from the green—a 6 iron should do.

Approach shots that flew over the green at Red Ledges were an abomination to Nicklaus’ design. Up and downs were elusive once the ball ventured past the flagstick. Under the baking sun, the ball skidded across the green and continued with its own hidden agenda, negligent to every command, “Hoe ball!” or “Sit!” With each green Nicklaus and the lovely superintendent at Red Ledges had three specific short game examinations: 1) Sense of humor 2) Ability to read greens with undulations not seen this side of the Atlantic (another nod to the Scots) 3) Pacing putts, all must be passed before that comforting clink sound could be heard. “We don’t want them to get any quicker than this,” said Johnson of the oil-slick greens. “Yea,” I laughed.