Quaker Ridge - Winged Foot's next door neighbour

Posted by Jamie on 15 July 2010 | 0 Comments | Tags: Quaker Ridge, A W Tillinghast, New York

Matt Prince was one of the first chaps from the US to contact us, some months ago.  He extended us a kind invitation to join him for a hit at Quaker Ridge (which I must confess I’d never heard of).  Needless to say we accepted, pencilling in 10 July into what was a fairly empty calendar back then.  The words “Quaker Ridge, 10 July” sat there as others names appeared in fits and spurts on my spreadsheet, week by week.  Then I found myself on Friday afternoon checking the schedule, wondering where we were playing tomorrow – it’s easy to get caught up in the moment and lose sight of what’s coming next.  Quaker Ridge!  Aha, at last.  Matt from his correspondence seemed to be sound as a pound, and the course was designed by none other than Mister Tillinghast, so the stars really were aligned for a cracker.      

The club’s next door to Winged Foot (from some points you can see what I assume was the East Course), but has a quite different religious fabric, being a largely Jewish club.  As we’ve mentioned in previous postings, it’s intriguing for us to experience clubs that were formed along religious lines – given New Zealand is a very secular and liberal society.  The road in takes you past tennis courts and cuts the 9th hole in half (which happens to be one of the best holes on the course, a short par 3).  A swimming pool and large, striking clubhouse give something of a country club atmosphere – very laid back.  

Our eyes lit up when we pushed open the doors of the men’s locker room.  On the table there was a veritable feast of muffins, croissants, cakes and refreshments.  Welcome.  Matt hadn’t yet arrived, so we parked up with a copy of the New York Times – a publication I’ve very much enjoyed perusing at stolen moments over the past week or two (which has been described rather unkindly as “liberal trash” by some of the more conservative friends we’ve met of late – and carb loaded!  With all this golf boys gotta eat...

Matt and his pal Scott arrived and saved us from ourselves.  Had they been delayed by 10 minutes I may be looking for some wider garments.  Just in the nick of time, after my second bagel.  And second coffee.  Not that either did my golf any good!  

Matt’s a few years our senior, and was married last year (first guy I’ve ever met who met his wife on the internet – interesting story).  He manages his own small hedge fund (which is probably not that small, but I didn’t ask).  Very cool guy.  Scott was also one of life’s nice people, a good natured soul, so the four of us had a good ol’ time.  Crucially too we avoided getting struck by lightning; the storm that was promised never came, although dark clouds sat there threateningly throughout the afternoon.  A lucky escape.

The first 8 holes at Quaker Ridge run anti-clockwise along the perimiter of the property, which means one thing.  Out of Bounds.  OB is not your friend when the par 4s are relatively long and your driver is misbehaving like a college kid on Spring Break.  I lost one to the white posts, dam things.  My partner Matt on the other hand decided he’d hit a controlled fade down the middle of every hole he played, casual as you like.  Like The Golden Bear Himself (although perhaps not as powerful).

That rascal Tillinghast put a large mound in the middle of the 8th fairway that’s covered with ball swallowing thick rough.  Some of the thickest rough on the course, we were told.  Typical Tillinghast, up to his usual trickery.  I hit my gracefully drawing 3 wood towards the left portion of the fairway, but came up 2 inches short in said hell grass.   I got my revenge on the old sod though by chopping a wedge out to 12 feet then draining the putt for my first birdie of the day.  Take that Albert.

The 9th which I mentioned is a pearler of a short par 3 – I forget the yardage but it was a smooth 8 iron.  A quite tiny, amoeba shaped green is pitched towards the tee.  And when the greens are fast it would be Tough.  They weren’t so it wasn’t.  We still managed to play it like twits and none of us carded a par.  How inept.

Then we replenished our energy reserves with what has become my staple diet at golf clubs – a chicken sandwich.  After all the burgers of the first few weeks here, something had to be done.  I needed to find a healthier alternative or risk having to buy two seats for my next plane trip.   The chicken sandwich was it and until anyone tells me otherwise, I’ve decided it’s significantly healthier.  Incidentally you know you’re at  Jewish golf club when the “Hot Dog” on the blackboard in the half way house has the word “Kosher” in front of it.  I was tempted to ask for a non-kosher one to put the cat amongst the pigeons, but decided better of it.

By the 10th tee we found the suggestion box, pictured below.  Nice touch.

On the back nine we also found a skunk – the first I’ve ever seen of his kind – but kept our distance for fear of being sprayed.  Scott’s mate’s dog got caught out, and apparently they were shampooing the poor fella 3 times a day for weeks to get the stench out.  Our caddy, Saul, wondered whether skunks know they stink.  To be honest, I’m not sure.

But I’m getting sidetracked.  The 12th hole (pictured below) is the signature hole at Quaker Ridge.  It’s an uphill long par 4 and is rather charming.  Not to mention quite hard (as in mildly mishit driver followed by 3 wood hard).  When those rock star golfers flew around the US in their helicopters playing the 18 best holes they could find, the 12th was the one they played here.  So there you go.  We had the luxury of playing the other 17 too, which I was glad of.  A very nice track indeed.  Quite a different beast to the courses Albert designed next door at The Foot – probably marginally more forgiving if you ask me – with quite a different atmosphere.  Vive la difference.

I can’t sign off without mentioning the showers.  The pipes are so wide that if installed now they’d be illegal (thankfully they were saved by a grandfathering provision in the regulations).  8 cubic metres a second must flow out of those showerheads, pounding your shoulders like a Tahitian waterfall.  Top 10, for sure.  I even managed a shave and brushed my fangs, then left feeling fresh as a daisy.  After another pleasant day in good company.

Cheers Matt and Scott – you were great hosts!

JP