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Show SALT FLAT NEWS, JULY 4th, 1970 Sports. 9 Golfing the Great White wilderness by Richard Menzies Not the least interesting and challenging of courses I have golfed is the Saltine Nine at Fort Wendover. Comprising a desolate, grassless tract in the great salt desert of western Utah, the- course, which shares acreage with the U. S. Air Forces bombing and gunnery range, is an unhappy blend of the Sahara and the Everglades. Unofficially open the year round, the Wendover course is better assaulted in the summer, for in colder months an underground water table surfaces to transform the land into a vast marsh, during which time the various greens and cups fairly float about and drift, so that each spring one finds the course perceptibly changed. In the summer, however, the water sinks and the land to white, not unlike the nearby Bonneville race hardens and turns from a brownish-gra- y - - course. first tried the course in the first days of June. With me were veteran ace Marlon Stones and caddy Richard Goldberger, local gambler and sometime newspaper publisher. We were directed to the playing area by Mr. Kenley, fire chief at abandoned Fort Wendover and watchman, who serves as pro in residence. Kenley greeted us with an enthusiasm boarding on joy, gladly offering to escort us to the course. We drove east from the Fort through a military junkpile that presages the go Ifcourse. Our guide advised us to drive slowly (You dont want to drive right over it.) and apologized for the condition of the fairways (The bulldozer was out of commission). At last wear-rive- d at a spot he designated as fust tee, a small clearing bearing a few car tracks. There was no club house, no shade, no chairs just a small sign announcing the first hole, 440 yards to the north. With enthusiasm and suspended disbelief we assembled our and roughs are not separate from one another in the usual sense; rather the fairway, or salt flat, is the white ground. Anticipating interrupted at intervals by such a circumstance, however, mounds of earth, or moguls, my partner had prudently topped by a kind of pernicious thought to bring along a can of vegetation. We later learned that a g ball is to ones advanblack spray paint. But Mr. Kenn-le- y was quick to counsel against tage, since it will ricochet off the the black ball; Youll spend all banks of the moguls easily. Howyour time chasing after rocks, he ever, should a ball drop squarely warned. He went on to consider into the lethal-lookin- g plants that several different schools of grow on top, it presents dearly an thought on the matter, that some unplayable lie. In fact, my compreferred colored balls, red or yel- panions expressed a conviction low, ami some black, but those in that any ball landing there could the know generally agree that a not be retrieved even by hand, at white ball is still the best: We in- least not without personal injury. ferred that our host was personalConsidering, then, the mogul of white an the advocate ball, hazard, my partner Stones wisely ly not to seem ungrateful we elected to scalp his tee shot, drivso spared the paint. Then with many ing it out of right along the hearty thank yous and farewells, ground. I was quick to follow his appropriate to parting soldiers strategy, hitting a low drive that and space pioneers, we set out on carried about forty yards on the our own. fly, skipped, and rolled another I should pause here to further hundred and fifty. We realized at describe the unique nature of the once the truth in the old axiom, " NEWS photo by R. Menziei saltine golfcourse. The fairways that its a putting game. Marlon Stones measures the cracks to the pin. Note the salt whipped With some difficulty we manflM VinlHinO fna aged to locate our balls and with two more strokes both stood a good portable lie and with some Hole three, 456 yards somewithin sight of the place where where to the south, was a puzzler, effort of imagination, I suppose, the cup is (It can by no stretch of since we couldnt find the flag. transformed the salt desert into a the imagination be called a After three strokes apiece, with regular meadow. 1 should also green). Mr. Stones, about. a hunour object still nowhere in right, note that our fellow golfer, whom dred and ten yards from the pin, was dispatched to I took to be a veteran of the elected to putt. Incredibly, he Goldberger scout ahead. At last he discovered course, was wearing what I would overshot his mark by thirty feet. as had it its ride on the suggest as regulation clothing: The wind, as we later deduced, all pole, lying winter, the flag quite petrified jodphurs, pit helmet, and canwas at his back. My own shot was by salt. Stones made a nice ap- teen. satisfactory, just clearing the ciwhile I sliced mine . Our friend passed, and still our rcular trench surrounding the proach shot, carom off a newly painted golf balls had not a fortunate but got green, or gray, whatever. Pros back onto the fairway. We dried. We elected to play them never dwell on their perform- mogul finished with Marion two strokes anyway, and soon made an imances once on the green, nor shall 21-2- 3 for three holes. portant discovery. The sticky I here; suffice it to say we finished ahead, 1 balls' as they rolled, picked up a losto adverse Now am not hole one with bogey sevens. e dust until but I dont like it. Besides, coating of The second hole was a short ing, the with alluground as they blended hundred yards. Marlon and I both my. partners depreciating inferior score had be- perfectly as a horned toad. My made it in six and stood locked in sions to my one gun to kindle my competitive in- partner, in fact, later dubbed a desperate tie. Our caddy Goldaccidencreatures those of poor bestinct. Throwing caution to the berger, to whom we had it for a golf ball. mistaking tee tally, fourth I smacked golf-balmy finished with a wind, Stones Marlon a as sprays club, looks on grudged furtively Caddy Goldberger, We struggled through two shot high in the air. It came to black. par three. more holes, batting ball and fauna earth in the worst of places, landabout with determination. The mogul, ing on a heavily-foreste- d where nothing short of a number sun was growing hotter; we grew nine bushwhacker would free it. thirstier by the minute and began But as good fortune and ill will to hope and search for a water wbuld have, it, Marlons shot trap. I had taken the lead and was hooked toward the railroad up by three strokes; my partner, tracks and was lost in a hobo jun- meanwhile, had fallen behind Then about gle. We finished the hole tied at with a sunstroke. halfway to the seventh flag we thirty strokes each. obMeanwhile, the desert sun had happened upon an interesting stacle, a hundred pound bomb. It grown brighter and brighter, makas ing the salt flats whiter and the lay half imbedded in the sand, if it had just fallen from the sky. balls ever1 harder to see. We deblack the to cided spray We promptly dubbed it the bomb employ caupaint, and had a good deal of fun scare, and played past it. I around it, giving with it by the way. As we were tiously putted Marlon while a we for to stroke, bravely the up dry, print waiting a shot. hazarded in a chip were overtaken by lone golfer The final two holes were more a cart that appeared to be the bare essentials of a 1957 Mercury. He uneventful, if possible, and we carried with him an interesting bit finished our little blackball open .of equipment a foot square with a tidy 192 strokes between NEWS photo by R. Mtnzm green carpet, the approximate us. Not bad for our first time out NEWS photo by H. Mwiiw Marlon Stones attempts difficult texture of grass on which- - he or, as the American Medical AssoPith helmet, extra water cart. suitable golf makes Stripped Mercury placed his ball before each shot. ciation would have to admit, for daring shot over hundred-poun- d also recommended. Par 3. marked This imitation turn afforded him the severely handicapped. bomb, We gear and prepared to tee off. As we placed our balls, we found them to be nearly invisible against low-flyin- w-'- ' gray-whit- ls |