Spanish Oaks Country Club:

By Jim Apfelbaum

In the days preceding my visit, curled up with a good book, the weather outside sufficiently frightful, my mind was swimming with apothegms of the classic course designers. “A course,” Donald Ross wrote, “that continually offers problems – one with fight in it, if you please – is the one that keeps the player keen for the game.” George Thomas,
whose bequest includes several masterworks, believed: “Strategy is the soul of the game.” And, Dr. Alister MacKenzie seemed to whisper in my ear as I dozed off: “The stones to the building of architecture are hazards.”

Nationally heralded in its short history, but remaining, as per local custom, unpretentious as it is exclusive, Spanish Oaks was, I knew, already distinguished as home to several Austin-based touring pros. Fight didn’t seem to be a problem. With enough to entertain U.S. Open qualifiers, the Bobby Weed design has also hosted at least one other prestigious regular local event, the Hannon Cup, pitting top amateurs against their pro counterparts. Not exactly looking for a fight, but fairly expecting one, I resolved to put the course to the informal litmus test provided by my distinguished experts.

Any hole would suffice, for this is unquestionably one of Austin’s finest courses, but I was especially taken with two superlative stretches, one on each nine. Both are enhanced by exciting, short par-fours, the risk or reward holes where strategy, fight and the feisty deployment of hazards are invariably, on the best examples, in abundance.

It starts with the fifth, a medium-length par-four of 385 yards. The tee the hole gradually rises from a pleasing shaded glen to a modest knoll. The green lies below two graduated but gentle rolls. A large raised, rounded mound five yards off funnels down to the putting surface, an intriguing sentry. The approach invites infinite options, as indeed this is a characteristic throughout Spanish Oaks.

Strategy and creativity are at a premium. At the end of the day, balls will have been knocked down, softly flopped, carried to the green and released, pitched and run, spun to stop on a dime. Here, the large tidal mound can be avoided altogether or adroitly navigated. Catch it just right and the ball will feed dead to a front pin, or it may ride another curve and release to the center of the green, or come to rest in one of the gentle runoffs that make for exciting and occasionally exacting chips.
The classic designers relished short par-fours for their variety and ability to tease and reward both prudence and valor.

The sixth, 290-yards, will give a man pause from the tee. There is a sentinel bunker that may be carried right on our desired line. Perusing the battlefield from our cliff-side tee, the green is perched almost out of view to the right. The fairway slopes from left to right. A long line of bunkers skirt the hole’s horizon.

There is peril for the foozled drive pushed to the right or short, including a nest of bunkers, and further right, a stream. A deep pot bunker just to the left of the green could very well play for an easy birdie after an almost perfect drive. A magnificent hole for match play, a sound drive will again offer many suggestions. Two-tiered, small and subtly mirroring the grade of the fairway, the kidney-shaped green also retains plenty of fight to the end.
The seventh, one of five par-threes at 175 yards, presents a daunting vista, a tremulous moment for those whose game is steeped in timidity.

There is an enormous entrance up a generous slope across a dramatic canyon. The eye is drawn to the craggy exposed cliff, where a sizeable oak clings to life half-way down. Of course, it all looks ordinary enough looking back from the green, but that only underscores the illusion from the tee.

Another beguiling short par-four invigorates the home stretch. The 15th again requires a modest carry from the tee. Instead of surveying from above as on the sixth, we are just below the fairway separated by a small canyon.

The flag is at eye-level, in plain sight, just over 320 yards straight away, though there is nothing behind to frame it. A small oak on the right side across the gulch suggests a good line to start a draw. A formidable series of cross catch-bunkers faces us on the left. The big hitter cannot see another bunker, nor the water hazard that juts out 20 yards from the green into the fairway. An enormous wall of bunkers will catch the drive that leaks right, or any lost irons. The green is actually set slightly uphill, enough to repel a rolling ball. Chips may be putted, chipped, hybridded, flambéed, chili-dipped, flopped or skulled: the full short game buffet. As with all good short pars, seven or three may be written in on the card by the time we’re done.

Sixteen presents another vista and a decisive decision for the downhill tee shot. The golfer must be cognizant of the wind on this last and longest of the three back nine par-threes, at more than 200 yards. One of the largest greens awaits with bunkers left serving as more a godsend than penalty.

The drive from the 17th, the last par-five, sails over canyon treetops ideally toward a lighthouse bunker suggesting the way on the right. The green is barely visible, hard left, as the hole approximates a 500-plus-yard inverted letter J. Indecision anywhere from tee to green will be disastrous, though, again, more prudent options stare us in the face. A stream runs the length of the hole on the left, and the tucked green is amply fortified.
Of the greens at Spanish Oaks, I can only refer you to the expertise of the caddie who, chuckling, noted: “Any putt over 25 is a double breaker.” They ran fast, held their line, and were amply receptive, which is the only justice a golfer can expect.

A fine golf experience is the sum total of events, an accumulation of strokes, yes, but also of little things, little touches, considerations and flourishes. By design and execution, Spanish Oaks leaves little to chance. You may have heard about the heated toilet seats because, well, the first-time visitor can’t resist at least a peek.

The course is immaculately free of litter. Ball marks and divots are repaired. Pro V1s await on the range, located steps from the clubhouse and the first tee. Divot mix is stowed in discreetly hidden wooden barrels between tees. The golf course is easily walked, and a permanent staff of caddies is maintained.

The out of bounds and hazard stakes are small, cedar stakes marked with two thin red or yellow bands. The tee markers and blocks to remind golfers to return carts to the path are similarly understated. Little things. There is no signage.

A sous chef awaits at the turn. There is a full bar, a roaring fire and comfortable seating. On this day, he proffers duck quesadillas with two kinds of cheese, or sausage from Cooper’s BBQ in Llano. Two “comfort stations” are stocked with complimentary stores of snacks and beverages, an assortment that included, in part Laffy Taffy, a fancier grade of jelly beans, neatly wrapped trail mix stowed in individual sealed bags inside an old cigar box, homemade beef jerky, Oreos, granola bars, an enormous jar of cashews, Skittles, Rice Krispie Treats, Tamales, Super Bubble and an equal number of refrigerated drinks stowed in drawers beneath a Hoshizaki ice dispenser. Cell phones are permitted “when used with discretion and consideration,” reads the brief notice included on carts with the daily weather update, a brief reminder of cart policies, and a list of upcoming events of interest to members. Phones must be kept on the vibrate mode. Members are asked to confine these conversations to the locker room.

Once on the grounds, a wallet is unnecessary, there is nothing to sign. A steward with towels appears as each group putts out on the 18th green. All this may seem too much, or, then again, just right; honed from years of tweaking and adhering to a company formula of service reminiscent of a four-star hotel.

The member wants for nothing. This is all part of a grand design, as a representative suggested, of selling “a lifestyle, a community, a development.”
In a golf life there must be discernment, a deeper appreciation of what we like about golf – specifically – and why. An objective recognition of what it is we desire in equipment, in playing partners, in courses, may begin with “I-know-when-I-see-it” evolving to some conclusion of the qualities of a “good” golf course.

Our score?
Important but ultimately a fickle barometer. Expense? Perhaps as a general benchmark, but, as with most things, not necessarily indicative of intrinsic value. Setting? Course condition? Companionship? Tradition? Pace of play?

In the end it all boils down to individual preference, the beauty-in-the-eye-of-the-beholder argument. Maybe we can come to some consensus. There is symmetry on a good course; no hole stands out so as to hog the spotlight making the others dull by comparison.
Conversely, no hole is so lacking that it detracts from the overall pleasure; all the holes are strong with a seamless, almost magical flow from start to finish.

The natural surroundings cannot be taken for granted. They may mean more to us than we know, for our love of the lush and pleasing savannah is thought by anthropologists to be no less than subconscious and ancient.

At its best, nature is not being held at bay on a golf course but instead fits; what remains belongs, like the sculpture from the block of marble. A good course invigorates. At the end of the round the golfer is tired, happy and maybe a touch exhilarated (or secretly resolved to redress defeat). On a good day, he may even secretly be of a mind to head right back out for an emergency nine. A good course allows certain shots to form in the mind’s eye. We see the right shot sometimes before we even reach our ball, and sometimes we pull it off. A good course will stimulate this sort of creative golfing thought process. As the round at Spanish Oaks unfolded, amidst the brisk winter blue sky, shots appeared in moments of remarkable clarity. That’s part and parcel of what a good golf course can do. The profile of the Texas Hill Country surrounding Austin, and the Village of Bee Cave proper, continues to transform at a dizzying pace.

As opportunity continues to knock and the outside world spins around them, the privileged members of Spanish Oaks can relish in having staked their claim, holding on tight to a superlative preserve of pristine golfing green space, true to the classic virtues.

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