Central Coast Swing (Part II): Letting Loose at Dairy Creek
It wasn’t long into our five-hour escapade at Avila Beach (Central Coast Swing Part I) until our thoughts drifted away from the golf at hand and lent themselves to a more important subject: lunch. The hot summer sun evaporated not only our morning caloric intake, but the time set aside to explore the area. With less than 90 minutes to leave Avila Beach, drive northbound towards San Luis Obispo, eat, and make our 5:00 p.m. tee time, we hastily debated the nearby food offerings. Alex proposed a hit-and-run meal at Hoagies, a neighborhood sandwich shop located in downtown San Luis Obispo. The location and fast-casual setup raised my curiosity; but it was the mention of the Pismo Wrap, a collection of tri-tip, pepper jack cheese, avocado, BBQ sauce, and curly fries rolled in a tortilla that secured my attention. We arrived at Hoagies like three weary desert travelers in search of an oasis. Our sun-beaten faces and the looks of desperation must’ve stunned the cashier as we eagerly offered money in exchange for food and beverage. By no means was the meal “healthy” but the combination of protein, carbs, fat, and sugar was an optimal way to refuel physically and in spirit. The mass ingestion of calories sparked a second wind to forge ahead and hit the links once again.
Tired or not, Dairy Creek Golf Course was a must-play for me. I had a hazy initial memory of it from childhood. That visit ended poorly after a yellow jacket glued itself to my inner thigh and went to town, triggering an allergic reaction and 103-degree fever. More recently in March 2021, I ventured back seeking an escape from COVID-imprisoned life. My girlfriend and I found solace in the less-restrictive guidelines of San Luis Obispo County. I negotiated a trip to the driving range in exchange for a visit to the botanical garden. Located along California’s legendary Highway 1, Dairy Creek inhabits the rolling hills of the El Chorro Valley, halfway between San Luis Obispo and Morro Bay. Debuting in 1994, it opened as an 18-hole, par 71 course. Falling revenue, a statewide drought, and issues with water access forced the county to reinvent the course to assure its survival. The remedy was to close nine holes, expand the practice areas, and build a Toptracer driving range to attract non-golfers. The short game area and high-quality practice bunkers were impressive, as well as the welcome surprise of a traditional driving range featuring grass instead of mats and full-flight range balls. Superb features aside, it was the backdrop of Hollister Peak that made me feel like I was transported into the landscape of a Bob Ross painting. The temptation to play a quick-nine nearly overwhelmed the logic that whispered not to overextend my girlfriend’s generosity. Devoid of a course sampling, the recurring imagery of that driving range scene kept Dairy Creek on my hit list.
As we progressed up the long entrance, we passed the Cal Poly SLO practice facility. On either side of the road there were sweeping vistas filled with hues of green, yellow, and brown. I was overcome with a sense of familiarity and the warm embrace one feels when they return home. Troy, Alex, and I once again offloaded our clubs, attempted to stretch, and took a deep breath before we donned our golf shoes a second time. As we entered the pro shop, we were greeted by the mixed aroma of Axe body spray and Monster energy drinks. Two college-aged gents checked us in over the raucous soundtrack of ESPN pundits on the nearby TV. Slightly delirious by the long day, we embraced the informal vibe and vocalized the lack of intent for the round. It was time for the guys to just be dudes.
Troy and Alex loaded up in one cart while I placed my bag on another. They rolled putts on the practice green, attempting to find the pace. I made a detour to the bar, attempting to find a cocktail. Standing on the first tee, we looked out towards the nearby mountain ranges as steady gusts of wind blew against our faces. The par-5’s fairway was outlined by a boundary of electric fences which corralled the population of sheep inhabitants. Alex was the first to tee off. He launched a no-doubter, splitting the fairway with ease. Troy followed with a glancing blow that connected mostly with the bottom of his driver. The result was a low slice that navigated its way into the short grass, albeit much farther back than he was used to. My tee shot was the undisputed worst of the group as I hit a spinning slice that ballooned as it met the headwind. The ball continued to rise and move swiftly from left to right until it crossed the out-of-bounds markers and rested amidst the livestock. I looked at Alex and Troy and quickly turned to Plan B, “Ok, we’re playing a scramble!”
My comment was an official declaration signaling that our round at Dairy Creek had deteriorated into a “hit and giggle.” What followed was an exhibition with equally as many “lowlights” as there were highlights. Here are a few of the notables:
1st Hole: Troy hits a 2-iron stinger through a headwind and reaches the par-5 in two. I then hit a monster hook that lands behind a rock formation. I proceed to hit a flop shot over the rocks, off gravel, motivated solely by the potential for blog content.
5th Hole: Troy pummels a 300-yard drive on Dairy Creek’s second par-5. Facing a seemingly impossible back-right pin location, Alex hits a fading 5-wood into the wind, across a gully, leaving a two-foot putt for eagle. After I make a snide comment about his putting, Alex “no looks” the putt to secure his eagle.
6th Hole: The 180-yard par-3 plays closer to 205 yards. Troy chunks a 4-iron, leading to his 9th club drop of the day. I flush a 2-iron which flies the green and lands in the rough. Short-sided, Alex opens up the face of his wedge. He makes contact somewhere between the ferrule and hosel, shooting the ball right at a 90-degree angle. My effort, along with Troy’s, aren’t much better, resulting in a bogey for the team. As we shake off the haze of our collective failures, we take a moment to acknowledge the plaque commemorating players who have made hole-in-ones, most notable among them is 2008’s “Harry Sackrider.”
7th Hole: Alex shows us how the locals play the dogleg-right, drivable par-4. He sends his tee shot so far right that the Proud Boys would try to recruit it. Troy and I are convinced he’s out-of-bounds. We drive to the fairway and are astonished to see Alex’s ball careened off the hillside and stopped 10 yards short of the green. The closest chip is still 15-feet away. I watch Alex lip-out the right-to-left birdie putt on the high side and do the same.
8th Hole: After 28 years of exclusively playing various degrees of a fade/slice off the tee, I learn to hit a draw. I also draw the next shot with help from a 15 mile-per-hour wind pushing right-to-left. I track the ball as it drifts further from the green until it vanishes in the brush. Troy hits a pitch that lands on the back fringe. The ball takes one hop and disappears, never to be seen again. We make par on the very scorable par-5.
9th Hole: My 175-yard club travels 190 yards. Alex saves us with a green in regulation. Once again, Troy and I fail to learn from Alex’s read, missing a birdie putt on the high side.
The decision to play a scramble, while an initial concession on our part, was also an understanding between the three of us that there was just enough golfing talent leftover to forge one acceptable score. Depending on your perspective, we either rose or fell to that expectation. As a team, we shot a three-under-par 33. Our twilight nine was one of the rare rounds that I couldn’t recall shot-for-shot in a literal sense, but figuratively it was memorable in many ways. The layout lends itself to fun and carefree golf. Across its nine holes, Dairy Creek strikes a perfect balance with three par-3s, three par-4s, and three par-5s. The overall design displays a thoughtful crafting that blends with the surroundings rather than imposing a feel of human manufacture or manipulation. Dairy Creek may reward accuracy, but it straddles the fine line between precision and “target golf.” Most greens are large and provide a buffer for errant approach shots. However, their sizable footprint enables the course to utilize tucked pins in quadrants that could result in 50 or 60-foot lag putts. I was stirred by the endless panoramas generated by elevation shifts from tee to green. Rocky arroyos form greenside amphitheaters and give the slightest hint of what golf must be like on the Scottish coast. The hillside setting produces a feeling of timeless solitude making Dairy Creek the perfect escape for the weekday after-work crowd.
Our evening loop was a masterclass in what a high-level, nine-hole golf course should be. There were no tradeoffs in design quality, conditioning, or difficulty compared to a full-size track. Dairy Creek excelled at providing a unique experience in a meditative setting for the very reasonable price of $27 ($17 walking). For a dusk outing defined by shenanigans, it’s hard to pretend there was a deep, eye-opening takeaway. Nonetheless, I left the course satisfied with finally scratching the itch of delayed gratification. The feeling was accompanied by a bit of regret, knowing that it will likely be months, if not a year or longer, before I’m able to return. Until then, the legend of Dairy Creek and Harry Sackrider’s triumph on Hole 6 will forever be ingrained in my memory under the tint of rose-colored glasses.
