Central Coast Swing (Part I): Avila Beach Golf Resort – Rough Terrain Amidst a Turf War

It wasn’t long after the launch of California Republic Golf’s website before Troy and I began musing over our inaugural trip. A short list of local tracks such as Olivas Links and Soule Park stood out as priorities to cover on our blog.  However, it wasn’t until our focus shifted to neighboring counties that we really began to sharpen our pencils and establish some priorities to settle on a destination. First and foremost, we wanted to keep our trip as budget friendly as possible with the focus of our spending on the golf itself and not costly hotel accommodations or travel expenses. Any dreamy thoughts of airfare were quickly eschewed in favor of an old-fashioned road trip. With only a weekend to spare, proximity was key. We also wanted to choose an area with as much diversity as possible—with an emphasis on different landscapes, formats, designs, price points, and access to one or more courses within a given day. With our goals laid out, one place checked all the boxes. With a target in mind, we hammered out the logistics for a journey northward to California’s Central Coast.

Near the midpoint of the Central Coast lies San Luis Obispo County, a region highlighted by coastal communities such as Pismo Beach, Avila Beach, and Morro Bay. Each year, over a million tourists flock to Hearst Castle in nearby San Simeon. The city of San Luis Obispo is home to one of the state’s three polytechnic universities and is a unique blend of metropolitan influences and small-town character. To the north, rustic towns like Atascadero and Templeton preview the vineyards of Paso Robles’ wine country. Our trip would be aided by a generous invitation to stay with our friends Alex and Claire, their two children, and a rambunctious pup named Bandon in their home just south of San Luis Obispo. Alex’s local knowledge helped us settle on five courses that totaled three 18-hole and two nine-hole rounds, including a “retro round.”

With the weekend upon us, truck gassed up and packed full tilt with suitcases, multiple club sets, and various camera equipment, our journey commenced northbound from Ventura County. We quickly detoured for a mandatory breakfast burrito pitstop at Super Cucas in Santa Barbara’s Mesa neighborhood. Our journey was briefly delayed, but our nutrition was ensured with the caloric intake of two days’ recommended allowance. We arrived at our first destination, Avila Beach Golf Resort, with just enough time to empty our bladders. After a two-and-a-half-hour drive, our bodies felt about as flexible as a steel beam. As with many courses, our first impression was formed at the driving range. There was no time for a warmup bucket, and even if there had been, I doubt anything productive would’ve happened on the 160-yard dirt track that harkened back to a certain cinematic range set amongst the armadillos of West Texas. Avila Beach labels itself a “golf resort” and for that title, and perhaps that title alone, it commands a premium of $98 for 18 holes with a cart. Opened in 1969, the course sits between Pismo Beach and San Luis Obispo, three miles west of Highway 101. The course was co-designed by Olin Dutra, a two-time major winner in the 1930’s, and Desmond Muirhead, an architect remembered for designing jagged-edge bunkers that look like shark’s teeth. The property is bisected by an inlet of the San Luis Obispo Bay which divides the course into two opposing nine-hole segments: the hilly and valley-centric front-nine and the flat and coastal-adjacent back-nine. The resort’s website makes the bold comparison between their “championship course” and George C. Thomas’ masterpiece, Riviera Country Club. The alleged common connection? Fairways consisting of Kikuyu grass. Such a comparison shouldn’t exist, but since it does, it must end there. At nearly $100 per player, we had trouble seeing the value for a course with a three-out-of-five rating on Golf Now. However, a quick browse for online discounts revealed a plethora of reduced rates, one of which dropped our price to $42 per player. At that amount, it seemed like an acceptable risk to take.

For all the hype about its coastal surroundings, the first thing Avila Beach does is turn you away from the water with three consecutive holes facing into the valley. By the time we reached the first fairway, we had an inkling about how the round would turn out. Troy hit a stinging cut up the left side of the fairway. I found the left rough. When we arrived to play our second shots, we were surprised to see Troy’s ball sitting down in a bare spot, surrounded by a web of Kikuyu roots. On the other hand, my ball sat on a lofty patch of grass, avoiding any punishment for missing the fairway. It turned out that Troy wouldn’t find a decent lie all day. We waited several minutes to hit our approach shots, with our pace of play hindered by two elderly couples ahead of us. The “rinse-and-repeat” affair continued for nearly three hours until our luck turned, and our septuagenarian friends retreated after nine holes.

Continuing from our impression of the driving range, Avila showed signs of a course teetering between mediocrity and decrepitude. Good golf courses use the teeing area as a friendly introduction. They’re a course’s curb appeal and demonstrate solid maintenance fundamentals. The best tee boxes are simple and rarely draw attention. This notion was tossed by the wayside when we hit the 2nd tee. The drivable par-4 has sufficient hazards in play. Out-of-bounds runs the entire length on the left side, fairway bunkers are situated in the landing zones, and the green is elevated and petite. Apparently, the architects felt the hole needed one more line of defense. That’s the only explanation I can fathom for the pair of parallel trees located at the foot of the tee box. They stand less than 10 yards from the markers and form a narrow chute with a low overhang. The result is a gimmicky tee shot that demands the accuracy of an NFL placekicker with the trajectory of an F-18 launching from the USS Nimitz. When Avila opened, their elevated tee boxes were probably a strong design point. In theory, an elevated tee box is an effective way to amplify the natural shifts in terrain. Decades of erosion have shrunk the elevated boxes to the point of claustrophobia. The surfaces are uneven and the act of placing a ball on the tee requires the balance of an Olympic gymnast. Blame is equally split between the golfers who shift terrafirma one hack at a time and the keepers of the land who have neglected to reinvest in the course.

The issues with the tee boxes speak to a larger problem at Avila—there’s a lack of design flow. Golf courses that ingratiate themselves to our memory tell a story one shot at a time. Ideally, each hole is a carefully crafted chapter that develops a character with nuance, subtlety, and cohesion. Avila misses the mark in this endeavor. The main culprit is a general lack of space. The 1st and 9th fairways run parallel in opposite directions. The width afforded to players off the 1st tee comes at the expense of the tee shot on the 9th. The narrow fairway is accentuated by a hillside out-of-bounds left and a ditch to the right. Similarly, the 5th hole is pinched in by a natural foothill boundary. The entire leadup to the green of the par-4 is canted left to right. Regardless of start line, every tee shot gathers in the right fairway or rough. Strategy and the variance between good shots and bad are eliminated. The cramped quarters are especially evident between the 6th and 7th holes. It’s the intersection of a downhill par-3 and an uphill par-4. The congestion became readily apparent when we stood on the 7th tee and heard “fore” calls raining down from above. The point was further punctuated minutes later. While we waited for the fairway to clear, a very polite woman sheepishly approached and asked us to excuse her. We moved a few feet aside and looked for her ball—fearing we had narrowly escaped death moments prior. It took a few seconds to realize she was not chasing an errant shot. Her ball was in her hand and her destination was the forward tees of the 6th hole. We traced a line from her tee box to the 6th green and realized we would be in her direct path of her ball.

There’s also seemingly a push/pull to the course layout. Too many holes force you to backtrack to get to the next. When you’re not retracing steps, you’re taking long walks between holes. The longest intermission demonstrates why the two nines are opposite. After the 9th green, players walk along the Bob Jones Trail and get their first peek of the bay since turning into the driveway. The scene vanishes quickly as the 10th hole doglegs left and faces due east. Once again, you abandon the water you forked over almost $100 to be near. The elevation changes are replaced by flat, parkland golf. A coastal breeze dissipates the stale heat of the valley-side front-nine. Sadly, the golf doesn’t get any better. The par-5 11th reintroduces the chute—this time as a pair of mounds cinching in the fairway like a medieval corset. It’s a feature that neither benefits the course visually, nor in terms of the player’s enjoyment. The quandary poses a chicken or egg-type question: Is Avila a bad golf course? Or is it the product of an inferior piece of property?

On one hand, course conditioning, five-and-a-half-hour pace of play, and a bloated price point hint at mismanagement. The tight spaces and natural barriers speak to the limitations of the terrain. Upon further reflection, the true antagonist may be the characterization and marketing of the course itself. Using words like “golf resort” creates an immediate misconception. Avila is adjacent to the San Luis Bay Inn, but the two businesses are closer to second cousins than sister properties. The resort’s recreational activities are limited to the golf course and two small tennis courts. That seems sufficient but neither warrants a standalone visit. Similarly, forcing the genre of “championship” on the golf course builds expectations that can’t possibly be met. Instead, Avila is a “while you’re there” type of course. If you happen to be nearby, and happen to have your clubs, it’s a satisfactory excuse to spend five hours outside and play golf.

Although I may not place Avila Beach near the upper echelon of golf courses I’ve played, I’m glad it exists. Avila would do well to drop the façade of a posh resort and play to its strengths. The location provides the insulation of a peaceful beach town and over 300 days a year of compliant weather. The golf course is a serviceable bonus for the area, and memorable, albeit, in somewhat of a maddening way. On the long walk from the 18th green to the parking lot, we crossed back over the bridge from the Bob Jones Trail. As we continued making our way towards the inland part of the property, we stumbled upon what seemed to be the essential value in Avila’s existence—an assortment of couples relaxing in beach chairs as they monitored their kids running on the south lawn. Groups of friends conversed over high-top tables while sipping drinks from Mulligan’s bar. In the background, event staff prepped the stage for the evening’s concert. Rather than being a standalone tourist destination, the golf course serves a more meaningful purpose for the locals who faithfully patronize it. Avila Beach’s role has little to do with golf and more to do with being a vibrant community center that anchors one of Central California’s most picturesque coastal towns.

This crisis of identity likely spurred a 2017 proposal reimagining the golf resort as “Avila by the Sea”, a 135-unit hotel, wellness spa, and event pavilion. The notice of intended renovation spurred local objection, leading to litigation from the nearby homeowner’s association over access to evacuation routes, traffic congestion, and the fate of the golf course. The full-scale project was shifted to the background while facing review under the California Environmental Quality Act. In 2022, a plan to develop 10 overnight accommodations utilizing existing structures emerged. The owners assured there would be little impact on the golf course and homeowners. The fate of that project now lies with the Avila Valley Advisory Council. With so much of the property’s future undecided, it’s no surprise the course lacks the tender loving care it requires. Perhaps it’s time the owners embrace what makes Avila Beach truly unique, in turn allowing visitors to embrace the property in a way that has become second nature to the residents. Until then, Avila Beach Golf Resort remains stuck in neutral, caught between the shadow of history and the summit of progress.