A
few years back I watched a well-struck putt of mine wobble clumsily across
patchy turf at Bermuda's Mid Ocean Club. After unleashing a few oaths, I
formulated a theory: Like the great natural athletes, whose romping success
leaves them unmotivated to practice, this naturally gorgeous island simply does
not feel compelled to keep itself in top shape.
Even
by then, Bermuda's inertia was exacting a
price. Its fine clubs and resorts were falling out of favor. The honeymoon trade
was lagging, golfers' complaints were growing louder and the luxury cruise lines
were devising new ways to exploit the island's beauty while hoarding all the
dining and lodging revenue to themselves.
Thankfully,
warning signs were at last heeded, and today Bermuda's resort and golf industries find themselves on
the happy side of a full-scale rebuilding effort. Not a moment too soon, either.
In its new incarnation, the island has shifted emphasis a bit from vacation
lodgings toward residential real estate bearing comma-strewn price tags. Hardly
a budget-travel destination to begin with, Bermuda has taken venues where a splurging middle-class
vacationer could find rooms-with-a-view and used them for grand residences
marketed to a privileged and tiny minority.
Competition
from the Caribbean and elsewhere forced Bermuda
to change. Even the old guard at the preeminent clubs on the island, which had
stubbornly resisted all significant improvements for decades, saw the light. As
a longtime member of the magnificent Mid Ocean Club, I was constantly enraged by
the dreadful state of the greens. They were riotous mixes of at least six
different types of grass, including very coarse Bermuda. Mid Ocean has always been high on my list of the
best layouts in the world, and I once wrote that if I had to play only one
course for the rest of my life, this would be it.
