The Dye Course at French Lick
THE PETE PRINCIPLE
Speaking of “trick the eye,” that’s been Indiana native Pete Dye’s stock and trade from his earliest designing days. He’ll throw those little pot bunkers out there, fashion volcano-sided greens out of what might otherwise be a ho-hum site, and generally wreak giddy visual and emotional havoc on a golfer if he or she lets the gorgeous (but often benign) distractions take hold.
Sometimes Dye has to move a huge amount of earth to feed his muse. But at French Lick, much of that work was done by the great northern glaciers that, eons ago, pushed zillions of tons of rock to what is now Indiana’s southwest quadrant, leaving behind hills that reach nearly a thousand feet above the otherwise placid landscape. All Pete had to do was kick it up a notch with some of his most striking, creative work in a long and vaunted canon.
A former family mansion built in 1928 now serves as the course’s clubhouse (complete with rentable bedrooms upstairs); it sits on one of the state’s highest points. The golf course spreads below it in all directions, with 40-mile views stretching beyond. I’ve spied incredible golf vistas from Scotland and Ireland to the desert Southwest, from the Sierra to Hawaii to Pebble Beach, but the view from up there, which reveals itself only after a quick uphill drive through a forest and into the great wide open, ranks among the best. In the long shadows of morning or evening, it’s even better. And if it’s autumn and the surrounding hills of leaves are ablaze — mon dieu!
From the very first tee severely downhill tee shot to the last shot to the massive, cliff-hugging final green, Dye pulls out all the dramatic stops, teasing the eye and testing the heart and head at every turn. By angling fairways just so, he offers more level lies than you’d think possible, often hiding behind those familiar mounds, and sometimes stretching for just a few yards before dropping off into necklace of bunkers or collection area, or rising into a steep ridge of deep rough. Knock a drive just a little too far, as on No. 14, the third of four brilliant par 5s, and you’re likely facing a baseball-like swing from the slope that runs up its right flank. Unless you’re crazy enough to play all the way back, you can sheath the driver on several holes, going with a hybrid or iron instead. Pete dares you to be bold, but smiles when you’re smart.
In contrast to the Ross Course, Dye’s greens are subtly contoured and tend to be smaller, with few run-up opportunities to reach them. He favors high approaches and abrupt, pinpoint landings — an aerial game to match the high-flying landscape, even if a complex is bunkerless or nearly so.
Placement, placement, placement. Geometry. Judiciousness. That’s the Dye game — and Ross’s as well, though from a different time and perspective. Playing both courses will reveal that fact, and you’ll come away sharing my conclusion that they are wildly different, but complementary, feeding off each other … and feeding the avid golfer’s soul, too.
Not that they’re for just anybody. They’re both Big Boy and Girl Golf. Sure, higher handicappers can get it around, and have plenty of fun, if they move up a set or two and temper their scoring expectations (take it from an 11-handicapper who birdied the first two holes on Dye and went on to shoot 85). But beginners should head for the Valley Course down the hill, maybe grab a lesson from Head Golf Professional Anthony Bradley, and make a date to return when they’re ready for the Don and Dye Show.
I’m already plotting my next French Lick visit. This little burg has built its own brand of Americana, a mix of Midwest sincere and Southern sweet, peppered with a colorful history populated by high society visionaries and infamous scoundrels alike. It puts on no airs and rolls out quite the welcome mat, from front desk to first tee.
It speaks my language.
Reservations and information: www.frenchlick.com
