To be frank, my husband and I were growing tired of Alaska.
Not of Alaska itself, of course. Denali was breathtaking, and it seemed that no matter how far we drove in the opposite direction, it never quite left our sight. The culture was fascinating, and it had been an incredible trip.
We were simply tired of being away from our son for over a week, driving hours at a time to reach our next destination, and still feeling mildly jet-lagged. Visiting during the Midnight Sun wasn’t helping matters, either. We had three days left before our flights home, and after traveling from Fairbanks, where we’d attended the North American Travel Journalists Association’s annual conference, down to Seward on Alaska’s southern coast, we were spending the remainder of our trip in Anchorage.
While there, we wanted to find something to do to enjoy the nice weather—that did not involve hiking. My husband had an idea: “Why don’t we find a golf course?” He found that we were staying only ten minutes from Anchorage Golf Course, so we booked the next available tee time and made our way there.
I had never golfed before.
I’d been to TopGolf and played a mean game of Wii Sports back in the day. But actual golf? The closest I’d come was caddying for Tracy Lawrence at the Legends of Golf tournament at Top of the Rock. Pretty cool, still not golfing.
The good news? Nobody else joined our tee time, so I could learn without the fear of holding anyone up—or worse, missing the ball at every tee.
Fortunately, that wasn’t what happened at all. My Wii Sports days must have paid off because I only missed the ball once. I quickly learned that driving a golf ball wasn’t terribly difficult. Putting, however, did not appear to be among my God-given abilities.
As I learned this entirely new sport, I found myself looking around at the mountains surrounding the course. They had a way of making me feel so small—and my golf ball even smaller as I teed up at each hole. It was a beautiful day in May with only the occasional soft breeze. I can’t think of a better place to quiet the worries of my mind and focus only on the game at hand.
We played all 18 holes, then headed down the road for buffalo and elk burgers at Wee B’s, per the recommendation of the pro shop attendants. The next day, after exploring Anchorage and venturing into nearby coastal towns, we looked up tee times again and found that we could make it back for a late afternoon round.
So we went back.
I was hooked.
Not just on golf, but on the experience of it. On the unhurried afternoon, the fresh air, the quiet concentration required to play a decent shot, and the way a beautiful setting can turn an activity you never would have sought out into the highlight of a trip.
There was something particularly special about learning to play in Alaska. I had spent the better part of a week taking in some of the most spectacular scenery in the country, mostly from behind a windshield or after hours on the road. But on the golf course, I wasn’t trying to get anywhere. I wasn’t checking the time or thinking about how many miles were between us and our next stop. And thanks to the Midnight Sun, we still had plenty of daylight and warmth of the sun to enjoy the game.
We still golf when we can, though with two young children, those rounds are fewer and farther between than we’d like. But anytime that we can—even if it’s just a quick date night to eat wings and swing at Big Shots, we take advantage of it. I will always think back to those first two rounds in Anchorage, surrounded by the mountains in the late-afternoon light that wouldn’t be disappearing anytime soon, and even the buffalo burgers. I didn’t expect to enjoy something so much or that it would hold such a special place in my memories, but years later, it does.
