How will I leave it?

Have you ever noticed how the calendar never seems to slow down? And not just the random calendar here or there. No, ALL friggin’ calendars. They just keep chugging along relentlessly, seemingly oblivious to any and all outside factors.

Unfortunately, these darn calendars are actually one of the few reliable things these days. Time, death and taxes, right?

That always-moving calendar brings to the forefront, for me at least, that I am keenly aware the majority of my career as a golf course superintendent is behind me, not ahead. As I close in on the big 6-O, I am suddenly very conscious of the end up there ahead of me.

Not that I’m looking forward to the end of my working life. I most definitely am not. I know many people can’t wait to retire. My older sister, for example, has been counting down her days to retirement for the last 15 or so years. She has literally mentioned her countdown to me almost every single time I have talked to her on the phone (she lives in Minnesota while I am in Washington state) . “Eleven years,” she’d tell me. “Nine years.” “Six years.” And now her countdown is in months. Soon it will be weeks and then days as she finally reaches her much-anticipated retirement this winter.

For me, the countdown is sort of opposite. I love working. Even after all these years of getting up at an ungodly dark hour and driving to the course, I don’t want it to end. And, ironically enough, I still don’t consider myself a morning person.

However, that end is indeed inevitable, and it’s hard for me now not to think about it looming out there ahead of me. Although none of us know the future (probably for the best), I do have somewhat of a rudimentary plan for myself. I hope to continue on as super here another seven or eight years, maybe even nine years (70 is the new 65, right?), and then transition to the crew. Maybe sit on a fairway or rough mower and dole out my wisdom to the future superintendent. You sure you want to lower the greens to that height? Maybe that will happen, maybe not. But it’s a plan, and I’m pretty sure it’s better than not having one. (Remember, I have vast wisdom.)

This looming retirement thing, though, has also got me thinking: How will I leave it? Meaning, how do I plan on leaving not only the golf course where I’ve been superintendent for nearly the last quarter of a century (24 years, but who’s counting?), but also the industry as a whole? How do I want to leave it? And, perhaps more important, how much say do I have in such matters?

The golf course

Let’s start with the golf course itself. Construction on Avalon Golf Links began in 1989, and the Robert Muir Graves-designed 27-hole course opened less than two years later. In those first dozen years of Avalon (the first couple of years of grow-in through 2001) there were three superintendents: the first lasted six years, the second and third three years each. Then, in 2002, along came me. If you doubled the time those three supers were at Avalon, it would equal my stint (thus far) at Avalon. I make reference to this not to put a spotlight on myself but to indicate there is a significant, undeniable footprint that I have inevitably left on this golf course and, perhaps more important, this property. Just the sheer amount of days I’ve spent here has made my impact somewhat inevitable. For better or worse — and I’m sure there are many examples of both — I’ve had a significant impact on the direction the golf course and the environment of the property itself have taken.

And, adding to my story, consider Avalon is privately owned by a single owner, meaning, other than my many discussions with him, there is and never has been a general manager, a board of directors, a green chair or committee. Often, if something has felt right to me, like taking down trees, building new forward tees or eliminating bunkers, I’ve been able to get it done with very little politics involved.

Avalon sits on a little more than 230 acres of secluded land in the Skagit Valley of western Washington. The property is perched on a hill, not a single neighbor on any border, surrounded only by wooded areas and pastures with plenty of awe-inspiring mountain views in the backdrop. One pasture, just to the west of a short par 4, has horses on the other side of an electric fence. Another part of the course features a rather stunning view of the Skagit Valley that is hard not to take in, even if you’ve seen it a few thousand times. Truthfully, as many times as I’ve looked down at the valley, I feel I’ve never really seen it quite the same. The subtle change in morning light each day — the clouds hovering over the foothills, the marine layer that moves in some mornings, or even geese flying above — it all always equates to, if not a new experience, certainly a fresh angle of an old one.

As I consider what exactly I can do for the course in the last seven or eight years here, the No. 1 thing, no doubt, is that the golf course will need a new irrigation system. The pipe in the ground is the original PVC from the grow-in more than 35 years ago. Many of the sprinkler heads on the course have been changed out by us over the years (especially in the last couple of years), but just as many are original. Also, a majority of the gate valves on the course are original. Safe to say there is an upgrade needed in the future for pipe, heads and valves. In addition, all the controllers on the course are at least 20 years old if not original.

My plan is to have a local irrigation designer get us a design for a new system next year, always the first step in the process. One of the benefits of having a 27-hole course is the ability to close one nine for an extended period to do a project like this and still be able to offer an 18-hole golf course. I admit it has been possible, with a lot of elbow grease, to extend an irrigation system beyond its shelf life. But at some point, you just have to wave the white towel and say enough is enough.

Not only is the consideration the 35-plus-year-old pipe in the ground, as well as the old valves and heads, but it simply must be recognized that newer systems are going to be far more efficient in watering, using and losing less water, considering all the leaks with the old pipes and fittings. This will not be an easy sale to the owner, nor should it be. Irrigation systems are not cheap. We are looking at most likely upward of $1 million for each nine-hole layout. And we have three nines. But prices are never going to go down, so getting something done sooner that must get done is most likely prudent.

Another thing I am working on, as I think about leaving someday in the future, is the culture I have created within the maintenance staff and making sure that culture is not only in place but will continue on well past me. I’ve always been a believer that the most important part of golf course maintenance is the staff. This starts with hiring not only hard-working people but also folks you think will fit in well with the people you have already hired.

When it comes to the hiring process, I’m also a strong believer in giving people a second chance in life, or maybe even a third or fourth chance. Almost every one of our long-time staffers probably fits into this “second chance” niche. I’ve hired literally hundreds of people over the years, and while I’ve made a few judgment mistakes here and there, for the most part I have trusted my instincts over someone’s perhaps “clouded” past. Nine times out of 10, that has worked out to the benefit of Avalon. Many of the long-timers hired over the years found a home here — a place they could be proud to come to work every day and feel like they made a significant contribution to this golf course.

The last thing I want to mention about what I can do to hopefully set up the future of this golf course is realize there is probably not really all that much I can do, if that makes sense. One thing that’s probably a bit hard to admit is that life will go on without us. I can make all the plans in the world but whoever trudges on in this role in the future will carve their own path with their own ideas, just as I have done here. Sometimes all you can do is all you can do, and that will just have to suffice.

The industry

My other consideration, as I contemplate the end of my days in this profession, is how can I leave the industry as a whole? Or, more to the point, what can I do to feel good about walking away from something to which I’ve given so much of my working life?

I began working on my first golf course in 1988, and I have done nothing else during the ensuing 37 years. Safe to say, the golf course maintenance industry has changed significantly since then. Any of us who were working on a golf course in the late ’80s or even into the ’90s can agree that everything was bigger back then. So many new courses opening, and bigger designs. More use of less-planet-friendly plant protectants — and more water use. It was all about the golf course and, though there were some exceptions, it wasn’t really about Mother Earth at all. I hate to use the word gluttonous, but …

I think I noticed the start of a less selfish shift in the industry about 20 years ago — a slow shift, but a shift nonetheless. Golf course managers started to become aware of our gluttony, that’s for sure. This must continue. Despite recent concerns for our environmental preservation in this country — suddenly taking steps back instead of forward — people in positions of power and able to protect the environment must be sure to do all they can do. Even if that means push back. The ground we have gained in environmental stewardship cannot be lost even if it might become easier to return to the old ways of doing things.

Another thing I want to promote over my last decade of work ahead is trying to help find a way to increase wages in our industry. I’ve definitely seen a trend over the last decade of this industry failing to keep up with the Joneses. This is not simply superintendent or assistant superintendent wages I’m talking about here, but wages across the board for everyone who chooses golf course maintenance as a profession, or even just a summer job — from equipment and irrigation techs to the seasonal two-month high schoolers. This industry has not kept up. We have all felt this when trying to hire in recent years. I see a slow trend to the positive here, and I will try and do my best to make sure it continues upward.

A final thought

If I may, I’ll leave you with this: I’ve started to dabble a bit in meditation. My mind has always been so unbelievably loud. As much as I am introverted, my mind is extroverted. I can’t shut it up. I also have a very strong desire to be less internally reactive to people and to situations. I want to calm this incredibly loud mind of mine and be a bit more internally compassionate, if you will.

A friend put me on to the writings of Pema Chödrön, and I’ve gobbled up several of her books rather quickly. In the book “The Places That Scare You”, she writes about what exactly we are doing when we try and enter a meditation state. I thought her words were profound not only for calming my mind but also for how I can enter this last stage of my working life as productively, tranquilly and compassionately as possible.

“When we sit down to meditate, we train in simply being present,” she writes. “We open ourselves completely to the pain and pleasure of our life. We train in precision, gentleness, and letting go. Because we see our thoughts and emotions with compassion, we stop struggling against ourselves. We learn to recognize when we’re all caught up and to trust that we can let go. Thus, the blockages created by our habits and prejudices start falling apart. In this way, the wisdom we were blocking becomes available.”

I do think her words can translate to my situation right now. I realize that as I edge closer to someday leaving this job, I do still have a lot to offer, and there is a certain wisdom I can offer, if I can just take a step back and take a calm, introspective look at things. Try and have that “astronaut’s view” of things.

Ron Furlong is the superintendent at Avalon Golf Links in Burlington, Washington, and a frequent Golf Course Industry contributor.