My Day On The Links
Reading my previous entry, one might be tempted to think that it’s the classic setup from a seasoned sandbagger, a handicap fraud trying to draw the gullible into taking a sucker’s bet. One would be wrong, at least in this case. My golf was as ugly as promised, a 145 for 18 holes, and only that low because they quit counting your strokes on each hole once you reach 10, even though those 10 strokes may not have taken you from the blue (men’s - REAL men’s, goddamnit!) tees to the white (ladies’) tees.
Lest you think I’m winding up to say Mackinac was my Guantanamo, an indeterminate sentence to a squalid and miserable experience, let me say I had an enjoyable time. The skies along the route were mostly clear, and the flight from Milwaukee to the island, in a KingAir turboprop, afforded views of a pastoral northern Michigan I hadn’t known existed.
Pictures and more commentary here.
