The original patch. My pal always plays the second par three on Rustic Canyon the same way.
If the tees are way back behind the barranca, or up-close matters not. As long as the pin in left and low, he’ll hit a screamer off the hill—so far right you’re sure it’ll be lost in among the rabbit warrens. But just as it vanishes it reappears in the rough, still moving, accelerating now with the slope, clearing the apron and running for the cup. My pal never plays for money but you’d never bet against that shot on no. 6.
We captured it to celebrate a couple of years of haunting Happy Camp Canyon. The bullhorn starter. The early-morning Reagan Freeway. The tawny fairways. The wire fencing. The familiar forms that find new ways to test an advancing game. All of it.