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Bring a seven iron, an old ball, and maybe an audiobook. Leave Scotty Cameron and his Titleist's behind, for one doesn't play Clunes in the traditional sense; one enjoy's an unencumbered stroll, club in hand, the ball merely an afterthought.
Mid to late afternoon only, no earlier than March, avoid the heat at all cost - your soul won't handle it, and beware, any unexpexted meteorological purtubations could easily tip your round over into the absurd.
This course is reminiscent of your immigrant parents failed attempt at a family camping holiday - grim, dry, unwelcoming, dull and unattractive at first, the chosen campground unyielding to your father's grim determination to have a good time in a locale that has no right to be enjoyed. Push those thoughts aside, you're not playing golf, this isn't a family holiday, that's not why you're here.
They say golf courses represents their towns, their communities, their countries, well Clunes was Australia's first gold town, and its first booktown. Forgotten that have you? So has Australia, so has Clunes, but not its golf club. Indeed the golf club knows you've forgotten it, and it's unsure whether to exact its revenge or offer its infinite forgiveness as it war
mly welcome you into its bucolic bosom. From the sand rake greens, to the parched dry fairways, the delapitated signs with unnecessarily pedantic instructions, the unseen greenskeeper's permanently inhabited shack, his hidden garden of treasures, the ten dollar honesty green-fee box (50% off if you play with a member), the wide open sky, the ancient stoic gumtrees, the gentle undulations, the warbling magpies, the unlikely falcon inhabiting a tree on the 14th, the idyllic views from the back nine of the charming adjacent sheep farm that Bruce Pascoe would no doubt liken to a gentleman's park - Clunes, much like Kenneth Cook's Wake in Fright and it's 1971 film adaptation, represents both the very best and very worst of Australia. You'll be questioning the rationale behind the existence of Clunes and of regional Australia as a whole, then a moment later you'll be blinded by beauty, or surprised by an avian encounter and be at a loss as to why you're the only person here, at a loss as to how you could possibly have questioned the existence of this masterpiece. You might think you've died and gone to heaven, but you'll be excused if you mistake it for **** . The apocalypse has already swept through Clunes, Clunes just didn't notice.
Don't go out of your way to play here, but if you're in the region, leave the wife in Dayelsford and the kids at Sovereign Hill, and have a round at Clunes - you'll come back a changed man.
Every true golfing vagabond should play Clunes at least once in their life.
We were heading back to Geelong from Maryborough after being told
we couldn't get on the course due to Saturday comps (quite
frustrating) and decided to head in for a round at Clunes. Never
having played on sand scrapes before I was quite impressed at the
layout and how well the ball roles true on the sand. It was also
very quiet with noone trying to take pot-shots at our head from
behind. A very nice round. Thanks CLunes.
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