It’s
the last thing an accomplished golf architect wants to hear: “You must meet our
committee’s new honorary secretary. He’s very interested in course design, he
has some great ideas and he might even be able to assist with your
layout.”
In
this case the accomplished architect was Harry Shapland Colt, by all accounts a
modest and soft-spoken man. The invitation came from the founders of Alwoodley
Golf Club, near Leeds in Yorkshire, England. The year was 1907, and the
honorary secretary with an interest in course design was the local medical
practitioner, Dr. Alister MacKenzie, an opinionated, forthright and
anything-but-retiring individual.
What
budding golf course architect wouldn’t want to have been a fly on the wall in
that Edwardian parlor, as Colt and MacKenzie swapped design concepts and
strategies for the first time: Colt, the would-be king of English heathland golf
and the architect chiefly responsible for Muirfield, Royal Portrush and (many
would argue) Pine
Valley; and MacKenzie, who
would go on to fashion Cypress Point, Royal Melbourne and Augusta
National.
Alwoodley
was a handsome training ground for MacKenzie. Located on the fringes of Leeds, a
large and prosperous northern industrial city, the site is reminiscent of
England’s Surrey and
Berkshire heathlands. It is perhaps more
strictly moorland than heathland, and less sandy underfoot than the likes of
Sunningdale and St. George’s Hill. But this is rich, rolling terrain, clad in
silver birch, heather and gorse.
In
the northeast of England, Alwoodley has only two peers—Ganton and Woodhall
Spa—and in the opinion of many commentators, it may be a shade more enjoyable to
play than either of these great layouts, considering their greater degree of
difficulty and Alwoodley’s more dramatic changes in elevation. It is a beautiful
place to play golf, particularly in spring, when gorse blankets the course in
gold; and in late summer and fall, when the heather turns a vivid shade of
purple and the trees are alive with colorful foliage.
The
two most distinctive aspects of the layout—both clearly MacKenzie hallmarks—are
the style and thoughtful placement of the bunkering, and the quality and
character of the putting surfaces. The bunkers are bold, almost flashy, in
appearance, and consistently turn already strong holes into superb and extremely
strategic ones. Likewise, the greens are large and keenly contoured.
Alwoodley’s
routing is unusual for an inland course in that it runs mostly out and back in
classic links fashion. Coming in, the final six holes all confront the
prevailing westerly wind and collectively make for an exacting
finish.
The
outstanding holes on the front are the 510-yard 3rd, with its green set in a
slight hollow; the 5th, shortish at 371 yards, but with a fairway that has a
pronounced left-to-right tilt; and the 546-yard 8th, defended by a chain of
cross-bunkers and a slightly raised green.
On
the inward nine the two short holes—the uphill, 168-yard 11th and the 207-yard
14th—are fairly challenging. But the two finest holes are confronted during the
formidable closing stretch. The par-4 15th has been described by British
architect Frank Penninck as “the pride of Alwoodley.” It presents an undulating
and curving fairway, intimidating cross bunkering and an elusive, plateaued
green. Finally, a commandingly high tee at the 439-yard 18th encourages players
to swing from the heels, but a legion of fairway bunkers lies in wait, perfectly
placed to dash hopes of a closing birdie.
Over
the years Alwoodley has hosted a number of significant amateur events but has
shied away from professional tournaments; today the course is clearly too short
to test the modern tour pro. It is essentially a traditional members’ club, and
it welcomes guests with prior arrangement. Any MacKenzie disciple should seek to
visit Alwoodley at least once in a golfing lifetime, for this is not only his
finest English creation, it’s where the good doctor’s legendary second career
got its
start.
