The recipe is easy: Take a 500-acre abandoned coalfield, pour
in about $13 million, stir the dirt with an army of bulldozers and add water.
Then sit back and wait—say, about 15 years.
James D. LaRosa, a rags-to-riches coal magnate, had hopes of
giving something back to the working class community in which he had fulfilled
his American dream. That was back in 1979. After some 150 field visits by Pete
Dye, the course was finally ready. The front nine opened in July 1993, the back
nine a year later. It has proven to be a worthwhile wait.
Today, the scarred hills of north-central West Virginia are home to
one of the country’s most visually striking layouts. There are forced carries
over flowing brooks, paths that wend across antiquated wooden bridges, a walkway
that carries golfers through an actual mine shaft, a par 5 that lines up with
1,200-foot-high smokestacks in the distance, a sluice that runs out of the side
of a green and a putting surface located under an exposed 65-foot wall formed by
the Pittsburgh Seam. (At more than 200 miles long, it’s the country’s largest
single slab of coal.)
Most of the holes are so wide that one side of play is soft
and forgiving while the other is brutal, forbidding and dangerous. Few courses
present so many internal options on holes, and fewer yet where the price of a
wayward stroke is so great. No matter how well or how poorly you play this
remarkable golf course, you’ll have no trouble remembering every hole, every
vista and every brilliant combination of imagery, color and texture.
Dye’s earlier golfscapes—Crooked Stick, Harbour Town, TPC
Sawgrass and PGA West—were built over dead flat land. Imagine now such brilliant
constructs built on terrain that buckles and rises, with natural waterways
crisscrossing the property. The effect in terms of views alone is remarkable—all
the more compelling because there’s not a blind shot or an unfair feature at his
namesake course.
All of Dye’s courses start with a moderate par 4. Here, the
tone is set at a 390-yard hole where the right side is miles wide—though a bold
drive over a bunker complex left will leave but a very easy pitch to the green.
At the 2nd hole, the demands are more severe, with a bail-out right and a long
drawn tee shot across a river on the left the optimal—if more frightening—line
of play.
The course is characterized by sharply etched playing
surfaces, greens with delicate chipping areas and always an open entrance to the
green for those who prefer the ground game. At the long par-3 4th hole, golfers
can bounce the ball in or play over a pond. A thin shelf on the back left of the
green will only hold a parachuted shot. A bit short and the ball takes a bath;
long and it leaves a near impossible chip.
Not a moment of respite can be found on this course. At the
10th tee, golfers perch on platform tees above a river bed. The fairway is set
diagonally from left to right, and the far side of the landing area is contained
by a long line of coal cars sitting atop a rail bed.
If there’s such a thing as saving yourself for the last hole,
Dye has done so on this course. The 453-yard 18th plays along a creek that runs
the length of the left side. The fairway cants none-too-gently off a hillside
from the right. A drive played to that far side of the fairway is safe enough,
but a knob up ahead in the fairway blocks a view of the green. That’s okay. Just
aim for the waterfall far in the distance (by the 10th green) and whale away
with all you’ve got.
Small wonder golfers are making the trek. There’s no better
example of how a golf course can enhance the environment. The presumption that
golf holes destroy a piece of land has never been more clearly refuted. A
scraped out and abandoned coalfield has quickly become one of the game’s most
distinctive retreats.
