This hidden golf gem is amazing and unforgettable (and scary)

My bosses have added the following text to our new, cool list of America’s best golf courses for $100 or less: Where memorability meets accessibility.

When I first read that it struck me as one thing that is easy to explain and another that is not. Affordability can be summed up in green fees, after all. But to remember? How do you explain that?

But after a while I realized that my things were completely reversed. Affordability is a very long term concept; what you can afford personal balance of money, time, value, opportunity, preferences, personality. Remembering, in contrast, is easily demonstrated: What do you remember?

I remember walking through the front gates of Black Mesa Golf Club – a member of our famous list – on a cool, clear afternoon in New Mexico in early 2010. I was in the middle of a year-long odyssey in the United States, living in my car and exploring the country with its golf courses with the desire to play a round in every state. I had entered New Mexico in mid-January and had made two big mistakes: First, I expected it to be warm. Second, I thought I could handle a spicy burrito especially at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant near the southern border. Two heat errors, one in either direction. But Black Mesa, which is still a relatively new golf course, was highly recommended in various internet threads I read last week while scanning WiFi on my laptop from the Holiday Inn Express parking lot. (This was the pre-smartphone era, at least for me; ingenuity was required.) Things were looking up.

At that time the price of Black Mesa was different from the current $84. Under, to clarify. In the offseason it was low. And the afternoon in the offseason was much lower than that that. I didn’t have much money, so affordability was at a premium. Black Mesa passed that test, even with a broke teenager – I paid twenty bucks and was on my way.

I remember what I wore that day because I matched the golf course, even though I didn’t mean to. I had slipped a cream-colored sweater into a plastic container in the trunk of my stroller. Dressed in khakis (impressively baggy khakis, I might add, as I just opened my photos and had a few from that day) and up against the fairways I got the odd impression that I was playing in a sepia tone.

I remember that I played alone. This can be a dangerous endeavor because if something goes wrong — you’re not playing well, you’re on a boring road, you’re worried about something, you’re worried about someone, you’re thinking about work, you’re regretting it — nothing can distract you. you. But in the right mood and with the right mindset, there’s something invigorating about diving solo into a round of golf. All of you.

I miss the drama of the lessons themselves; I have been playing in many different places during this time but nothing like this mountain desert combo. There were significant changes in elevation, from roads to villages. Elevated tee boxes offer a view of the landscape, the greens sit up against the sandstone walls, the fairway cuts between arroyos and rock formations. It was very good. It was attractive. It was incredibly good golf.

I remember the parking lot was almost empty when I arrived and there was only one truck left as I turned around. That belonged to the shopkeeper, who was there waiting for me; suggested that I might want to call it a day. I didn’t want to wait for him, but I was in a hurry. Because I didn’t have a stroller it seemed easier for him to go and for me to continue playing, so I encouraged him to get off. He agreed with one request: I close the gate on my way out. A fair deal.

I remember the light and the temperature both starting to drop as I passed the back nine. I remember hitting the ball off the line and seeing paw prints in the dirt and wondering where they could be from. I remember the “beware of rattlesnakes” signs suddenly taking over my brain. And I remember the holes feeling increasingly isolated, which had a disturbing effect; at one point I wondered where the clubhouse really was.

Maybe that’s why I remember this so well, because I was playing well and playing fast and walking in a state of alertness, photographing mountain lions as I looked for my ball. I remember the feeling that an empty golf course is a very big place. I remember feeling scared but also undeniably alive.

Then I remember suddenly panicking after I hit my second shot on the 16th. As I recall that is an incredibly steep par-5, and I had just hit the 3 wood when the red truck roared over the hill; it’s obvious that I wasn’t the only one who was afraid of going out alone. The shop assistant was back. He forced me in and I did so and we made our way back to the lodge.

I remember asking what was scaring him, whether it was rattlesnakes or something. And I remember that instead he said about animal dogs. He said those could be bad.

I haven’t been back since. So I’m not saying I’m some kind of Black Mesa aficianado; just a guy who played a round there in 2010 and left with several lasting feelings. Few rounds of golf are as memorable. And now I’m eager to go back and see how reality matches memory. After all, I only played 15 and a half holes…

Dylan Dethier welcomes your comments at dylan_dethier@golf.com. You can also find his book, 18 in Americahere.

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Dylan Dethier

Golf.com Editor

Dylan Dethier is a senior writer for GOLF Magazine/GOLF.com. The young man originally from Williamstown, Mass. joined GOLF in 2017 after two years struggling on the small tour. Dethier is a graduate of Williams College, where he majored in English, and is the author of 18 in Americadescribing the year he spent at age 18 living in his car and golfing in every state.