APRIL 12, 2021 – Sunday here in the Twin Cities was 53F, heavily overcast, with a north gust now and again. When I reached Little Switzerland for my daily routine of “hill climbs,” the place was crawling with golfers. My first reaction was, “What in the world?! Do they think this is some kind of golf . . .” Just then I caught myself. “Of course it’s a golf course!” I said to self. “Now you know how those snowshoers trudging up long runs at ski areas out West—muttering (no doubt) to themselves as we skiers fly by showering the shoers with a spray of snow, ‘What do they think this is—a ski area?’”
Uh-huh.
Once I accepted the reality that perhaps golfers had the right-of-way, I observed matters more closely and objectively.
First, amidst the legions of golfers, I didn’t see a single woman or person of color and few older people. It looked like Twenty-something and Thirty-something White Men’s Day. A lot of history there.
Second, on the front side of “St. Moritz,” which lies between the first and the 10th holes, I saw a clean, unclaimed, bright red golf ball. Someone was neither good at hitting the ball nor at retrieving it.
Third, speaking of not good, on my descents down “St. Moritz,” I noticed a number of “not good” golfers. Despite their convincing attire, they pretty much whiffed. They reminded me of skiers dressed for the part, hauling around top-of-the-line equipment, who turn out to be . . . beginners. There’s absolutely not a thing wrong with that, just as there’s nothing wrong with a beginner golfer—except perhaps, stance or swing. In fact, there’s something almost poetic about a young, self-confident, sartorially proficient, white guy stepping to the tee for a swing and a miss at a golf ball—after (multiple) practice swings.
In case an avid golfer or two is reading this post, rest assured that as much as I begrudge golfers for dominating “Little Switzerland” and thereby limiting my local hiking options, I do respect their sportspersonship—well, yesterday, sportsmanship—and rights-of-way. If I’ve heard “Fore!” once or twice over the years, I’ve never had to dodge an expletive or a golf club hurled in anger. I always skirt the greens, and if I’m ever within the peripheral view of a golfer about to putt or swing, I stand still and . . . stop talking to myself in a loud voice.
Today’s forecast is even less promising—for golfers and hikers alike: a high of 50F, intermittent rain showers, and wind up to 20 MPH. But trust me. I’ll be hiking, and a few diehard golfers will be golfing. When I’m about to say, “What kind of fool would be out here today?!” I’ll catch myself and say, “Here we are again—white guy fools taking to the great outdoors, rain or shine, cold or heat—spring, summer, fall and winter!”
“Here, here!” to the wiser folk among us.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
