Golf Course Reviews - Colovista

Texas Gem by the Colorado River

Colovista
(512) 303-4045
Highway 71, McAlister Road
Bastrop, Texas

No, not that Colorado River.

In the course of business, I spend a lot of time traveling in Texas, particularly in between Austin where I have a IT professional consulting business partner (and good friend) and Houston, where I intend to live long and prosper, at least part time.  On this occasion, I’m returning from Houston on a Monday in spring, which happens to take me by Colovista where I’ve made a 2:00 tee time.

A relatively new course (ca 2000?), it received a lot of publicity as one of the more distinctive and scenic layouts in the state.  Colovista is actually a Texas "hill country" resort as well as a course, and the golf facilities are integral to a large real-estate development.  Driving through the development to get to the course, I note most of these beautiful homes—a lot of ambling ranch format—have the look of Ben Cartwright’s pad on the Ponderosa, only more modest and without the horses.  My kind of cribs.

The weather is looking problematic, though the forecast said nothing about rain.  I park the A4, tell the cart kid that I’ll catch him with a tip afterwards, and traipse into the pro shop to make the deal.  I’m not giving the staff there an A for friendliness, two women young and middle-aged are busy trying to noodle out something on a computer screen—looks like it ain’t gonna happen—and ignore me.  The guy behind the counter does eventually say hi, managing to pay attention to the only potential customer in the building.

It’s a slow news day on the hills and valleys of Colovista, and I’d like to get done by sixish or so.  Thus I dispense with the visit to the practice range and ride directly to the first tee.  (I’m not walking, because I walked River Ridge, in Sealy, yesterday, in fact carrying my bag for 18.  My little puppy paws aren’t up to two days in a row.  Colovista will let you walk though, and the course is walkable, especially the front with the Texas links format.)

Not very many people, in fact it doesn’t look like anyone’s on either side of my tee time.  There is one other single guy, who had pulled up in a big late-model pickemup and grimaced a grunt when I said howdy (must be George Bush fan), but he’s gone to the range.  I’m playing the blues (~6600 yards), in partial practice mode.

Practice mode: Sometimes if I launch a drive into the trees, I’ll call it an aberration, tee up another, reach the fairway, and call it "One."  Many holes, I’ll play two balls, if no one is behind me, score them separately, and keep the best.  (So feel free to inscribe a small asterisk next to the scores I make public herein.)

I’ve played the front pretty well considering.  39*.  On the back, I start off on #10, turns out I’m almost the last of the Mohicans on the course, and a guy in a cart drops by to see if everything is all right and if I plan to continue.  Turns out this man is one of the owners or high-level managers, really friendly and concerned.  No lightning is evident, and even though it seems some more rain may be coming, I think I’ll be fine.

No need to bore you too much with the remainder of the golf.  I begin the back with two double bogeys.  On 10 I note the quality of the grass has been compromised considerably over the years by the extensive use of carts.  Cart golf is the bane of modern American life, IMHO.  The USGA has a walking promotion, and yours truly has taken the pledge and walks whenever possible.

But with all the seniors and out of shape people playing the game these days, courses have to make accommodation to the fat and the unwell, or lose business.  On the other side of that equation, courses suffer rapid deterioration of their core resource.  At Colovista, that is a downgrade; maybe the type of grass they’re stuck with here makes it worse.

I par the next two holes, then after a terrific tee shot on 14, I only manage bogey.  Hole #15 is the signature hole.  It’s an elevated par 3 probably 200 feet or so above the green, with a long panoramic view of the hill country area.  (Actually, we’re officially outside of Texas hill country here, but the real estate people like the sound of it.)  The Colorado River is seen on the right in this not award-winning digital photo.

It’s a stellar hole, the 15^th, and I made a mess of it, failing to do it justice, yet eking out a bogey.  Then the next hole is interesting going severely uphill and to the right, not a long one but trouble can be found.  The short 474 par 5 I actually birdied with a grooved drive, a well struck five-wood, a chip within 7 feet, draino.

And the finishing hole—again noticing the grass in distress, discolored in areas, perhaps some fungus, burned out look—I reach and par, finishing the back in 41*.  The holes closer to the clubhouse seem to have the worse grass.  Ban the damned carts!

So day is done, an (early season solo practice mode) 80* on a difficult, scenic tract.  The place looks like it’s shutting down tonight; I was considering going inside to the clubhouse, but apparently it’s closed on Mondays.  There’s the little snack shack at the turn between the front and back nines, and lo and behold a young lady is in attendance.

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I order a sausage sandwich and a couple of Dos Equis (beers), and sit down at a little picnic table nook to reflect on all the good things I’ve done today.  The snackshack lady, call her Natalie, is pretty and personable; she wanders over to chat.  How nice.  "So how many people normally play on a Monday?" I ask.  She says the weather has put off a few, and they do weekend outings for the resort, and this hasn’t really been a big weekend.

She has to sense I’m from out of town, but I confirm it, telling her, like Jim Garner in Support Your Local Sheriff, "I’m just passing through on my way to Australia."  But candidly, I’m traveling between Houston to Austin, and I get down this way, and I’ve liked the course from the beginning.  "Do you like working here?" I ask.  She tells me the people, especially the main guy, are great and it’s fun to meet the people, the regulars, the weekend resort guests, and you can get good tips.

She lives a town or two away and is studying to be a nurse.  Her family is into horses.  That starts a line of conversation leading, among other things, to the TV series, Dallas, which believe it or not she’s seen reruns of on cable (she’s 19 (or at least that’s what she said, officer)).  But also believe it or not, I’m just having a special moment sitting here carrying on a simple conversation, a little input and a little output.  I feel no need to rush or to say anything in particular, and the rhythm is perfect.

It feels as if time has been suspended, that the only thing happening in the world at this moment is she’s kindly talking to me and I’m kindly talking to her.  We’re exactly who we are, and this is exactly what this is, a conversation between a man and a woman with no other motives.  (Well, sure, the pheromones are still running, can we spell H-U-M-A-N?  I may be older, but I’m still on the top side of the grass.)

Eventually we have to come down and I have to be on my way.  No hurry, no worry.  I believe this charming little moment was Mother Nature’s way of telling me, "You’re doing the right thing; find ways to be in the moment, take your time, it belongs to you."

Thanks, Mom.

I can’t wait for my next special moment in the way of golf.  No, that’s the key, I can wait.