FRIPP ISLAND RESORT
Fripp Island, S.C.
If you draw a blank when someone tells you they are heading for Fripp Island, South Carolina, you probably aren't alone. Take for instance Rand McNally's cartographers. They seem quite unaware that there is a road, albeit only one, leading to this remote barrier island. It is with some irony then that such an overlooked little remove, about two hours down the coast from Charleston, features a golf course that has put Davis Love III squarely on the map as a course designer.
His Ocean Creek course is one of two superb layouts on this small island resort, which seems to float among the low country marshes. The island's original course, Ocean Point, occasionally rubs shoulders with crashing Atlantic waves. Though Love's layout is spectacular, it is also prettier and subtler. An ancient coastal forest of cypress, mangrove and long-leaf pine towers along fairways and above holes. Not too long ago, this pristine setting stood in for Vietnam during the filming of Forrest Gump.
For travelers put off by the conspicuous commercialism of neighboring Hilton Head, Fripp Resort presents an intriguing alternative. The resort's GM Ansley Cohen says, "We're perfect for people who are nostalgic for the Hilton Head of the 1970s. Our guests and residents have discovered that the island's relaxed pace isn't permanently gone, it's just moved up the coast a bit."
The climate at Fripp Island is identical to Hilton Head, the golf equally superb and it is extremely family friendly. All that's missing is the traffic. This is because most residents choose golf carts as their mode of transportation to get around the island.
Many of the spacious and smartly furnished rental villas practically dip their toes in the Atlantic, their patios are so close to the high water mark. Or they gaze out on the golf courses. Full kitchens and baths add to the high standard of comfort. And it doesn't hurt their PR that Fripp Island is synonymous with the first course designed by one of the PGA tour's most successful and admired players.
Most impressive about Love's superbly-conceived Ocean Creek layout is that he intuitively understands the native landscape and works with it, often to dramatic effect, where other more high-profile architects could easily have veered toward self-conscious ostentation.
A good example is the 17th hole, a straight out par 4. The first thing that catches your eye from the tee box is the rolling fairway, and it carries your gaze to the green, 394 yards out from the middle tee. But as you survey the landscape to pinpoint a target for your drive, a surprising little observation is inevitable. None of the trees beyond the green is the least bit distinct. This is because these trees are on the other side of a miles-wide marsh, invisible from the tee box, but implied by the tight fairway, slightly inclined green and fuzzy outlines of the trees far beyond.
Earlier in the round, Love paints picturesque holes with regularity. The second is a short par 4 of 369 yards that plays through a chute over densely vegetated wetlands. The tee shot demands to be hit straight as an arrow, with tall Southern Pines growing out of the swamp, aligned tightly with the outer edges of the tee box. Water guards three quarters of the green, including the front.
The par 4 eleventh is intimidating for two reasons. Firstly, and more innocently, water comes at you from the left and right. The cart path, in effect, divides the two lakes en route to the fairway. The real danger, however, arises on the far edge of the water hazard to the right, though not in the form of a bad lie, poor stance or plugged ball.
On this particular day, in the thrall of this challenging and beautiful course, we had long since forgotten the admonition delivered by the starter. And then . . . the splash. From across the fairway, I looked up to see what made such a noise, only to see my partner immediately beside that spot. Any sun that he had gotten that day quickly had drained from his face. He looked like he'd seen a ghost; or rather, thought he was on the verge of becoming one.
No fish, turtle or frog, he quickly reasoned, displaces that much water when leaving the bank of a pond. After he collected his wits, only one mystery remained. Judging by its abrupt departure, we wondered if the alligator was now nervously telling its friends about the two-legged creature heading right at it with a long, glinting blade in his hands. Ironically enough, perhaps it was the gator that was convinced it would be the victim of a horrible slice! read more