The Wild Golf Odyssey of Robert Trent Jones, Jr.

Golf course architecht Robert Trent Jones, Jr., has designed more than 300 courses in 50 countries on six continents—on earth, only Antarctica lacks an RTJ II layout. And at 85, Jones is still traversing the globe with projects in Ecuador, Colombia, Panama, Grenada, Thailand, Vietnam, Egypt, England, Italy and across the U.S.

Jones’ living artwork reveals a man who creates on many levels, and who sees his pursuit of golf design as a metaphysical journey. Like the best artists and writers, he employs subtext and symbolism, imagery and illusion, as well as a range of other techniques from the verbal and visual arts to express aspects of philosophy, drama and aesthetics. And his courses tell stories. Jones recently shared with us his own stories—about golf, travel and golf travel.

What is it about this game that travels so well?

Golf originated in Holland in the 13th century when seafaring people took sticks and wooden balls and played while their ships were being provisioned. They played with the Scottish, and eventually the game traveled with the Scots and the British Empire. It came to the U.S. through destinations like Newport, Rhode Island. Unlike other sports with rigid fields—like tennis and football—golf adapted itself to different terrains.

Costa Palmas, Baja California Sur, Mexico / Photo: Courtesy of Evan Schiller

In New England golf architects found granite outcroppings and trees and adopted the links game invented where there were no trees. At Winged Foot, in New York, they built greens on top of the rock. In San Francisco, architects like A.W. Tillinghast formed the greens as continuations of the sandy fairways. In Japan they play three or four holes and stop at a teahouse and have a formal meal for 20 minutes, then go play more golf. These kinds of cultural and geographical nuances always give the game a distinctive flavor.

What drives people to travel for golf? Couldn’t they just keep playing the same course?

For me, adventure drives golf travel—you want to get out of where you are and have another experience. Playing golf in an alien context—like in Shanghai, even though the game is familiar to you—will be different from anything you’ve experienced before. One day when we were working on a course in Desaru, Malaysia, I walked across a log that had fallen in a putrid swamp and a snake slithered away.

When my guide took out his machete I knew we were in trouble. I asked him, “What’s up?” He said, “It’s a krait snake. If it bites you, smoke one cigarette and say goodbye.” Two weeks earlier on the same site a wild elephant pushed over our construction shack during the night. And we found out that tigers had been coming out of the jungle to lick salt on the beach near where we were working. That was a difficult job. Our supervisors kept quitting.

Hole four at Hoiana Shores, Quang Nam, Vietnam / Photo: Courtesy of Gary Lisbon

In South Africa, the Leopard Creek Country Club was laid out next to a game reserve, which was fenced in, but the animals don’t care. They see golfers as something to eat, which is why players should carry a rifle as their 15th club. At our Wild Coast Sun golf course in the same country wild monkeys run onto the sixth green and steal your golf ball.

Sometimes we’re able to express the adventure of our sport by creating heroic golf holes, where you might need to cross an ocean-filled chasm to reach the green. To me golf involves a quest on which you never give up. You may have to backpedal and regroup and create strategies, but you’re like Odysseus. You’re always out there searching. And if you go searching, you’ll find something.

You used to travel 270 days a year pursuing your work. What was that experience like?

I enjoy being in the air. I’m in a good space and I don’t fear anything. I look down upon the great landscapes and relax and read and maybe write a poem. I’m an extrovert, so my seatmates get to converse with me, whether they like it or not.

A good travel tip I’d offer is: Accept the food wherever you are. And I like airports, especially when the planes take off and land. I’m big on long runways with no potholes.

When you build golf courses in remote places there are no airports. You land in grass fields, and the winds can be dangerous. In New Zealand in the 1970s I flew a plane with no direction finder, and the compass wouldn’t work. My local partner told me to watch the topography to find a landing place and to stay left of the mountains.

Photo: Courtesy of Zurich Airport

As for modern airports, Zurich is very efficient and has good places to sleep in or next to, and good food. I went there on my way to Davos in winter, and used to head into town for oompah music, long sausages, pretzels and beer. I’m an Earth Day kind of guy and Singapore Changi Airport has lots of lovely plants and flowers growing on the walls and they’re dripping with water, not all steel and glass.

As a middle-class postwar American I’ve been privileged to travel in good seats with beautiful food service. But today it’s become more of a lottery and most people carry their own baggage and it’s a struggle. Now it’s an endless effort to get from one plane to the next, and that’s less fun. Some of the rules can be confusing, too—like when the crew times out and it’s midnight and there are no hotel rooms. That might be good for the crews, and for safety, but not so good for the passengers.

Any non-golf destinations on your bucket list?

Bhutan and Machu Picchu. I’m interested in the spiritual places of other cultures. I’ve traveled the globe like the moon has and I haven’t been eclipsed yet. You can’t black me out.