Written on 4-30-22.
B, Kody, and I are at Fenton State Park near Jemez Springs. We came last night from Cuba with our Baker Street in tow, and the last 15 miles or so were rough. It turned into a dirt road that was fairly wide and smooth, but then it became narrower and much less smooth. The farther we went, the more rutted it became, but we weren’t in a big hurry, and here we are. We plan on going back through Jemez Springs to avoid the the ruts, though.
Fenton has a tiny lake, and we had a very pleasant walk this morning that went through a closed section of campground and then back along the river that flows away from the dam. Normally, I don’t go on the “morning” walks, but I didn’t want B and Kody to go alone. It was worth it to shake off the sleep and join them. We saw a sign warning about cougars and how to best deal with them, so I was pleased with my decision. The sign mentions hikers should let cougars know they are coming into their area, so I am betting our conversations helped with that.
On to golf…
I played with Bruce and C.J. at Riverview three days ago. Bruce mentioned that he wanted to “chase the little white ball” again to C.J., so I included him in the text that asked which day they would like to play. Eric had to get ready to go to Dallas, so he didn’t participate, and it was great to get the old gang (the three of us) together again.
Of course, Bruce didn’t miss a step since the last time he played. I don’t know what his score was, but I am betting it was much lower than mine.
I wish I could have shown him how much I had improved during the pandemic, but it didn’t work out that way. I had a bad day with very little consistency. I did manage to get two (almost four) birdies, however, and that is the reason for my writing today. We are at a state park, so that’s always a super time to write.
The greens were unpredictable on the front nine. They had recently been sanded and not evenly either. Mostly, we didn’t take big enough swings with our putters, so our putts would peter out and end up short. At one point, I said it was like putting out of a bunker.
My putting was consistent, though. I had five one putts, and I only triple-putted twice despite the sand on the front nine. Thinking back, Bruce struggled with putting a bit, so it wasn’t all shiny for him.
Here’s a funny story that happened during our round. On hole #14, C.J. had a long putt from around 30 feet. He had to brush off a lot of debris, because the green is shaded by cottonwoods and there were shells from seeds scattered all over the surface that would surely knock a golf ball off course. After he had done enough clearing, he announced that he was going to make it. He had said that, because I was saying his putt was going to be an adventure with all that stuff littering the green.
Well, darned if he didn’t hole it! He looked a little sheepish as he walked to pick up his ball, but he was smiling, too. We had a good laugh there, and then it was Bruce’s turn. He had cleared a path, also, and his putt was from 15 feet or so, and darned if the didn’t make his, too. Unfortunately, I missed my putt from just four feet, so I failed in getting us the trifecta. Golf is a weird game.
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