Time to wrap up this Maine adventure. (Seems like forever, right?) Traveling back to NYC from Brunswick, we figured we might as well make a couple stops along I-95.
Freeport is a touristy little coastal town, perhaps best known for its premium shopping and in particular the sprawling, 24-hour LL Bean megastore.
No dogs allowed, so I am flying solo here. At the end of a little gravel road, just off the interstate, is the nine-hole Freeport CC. Ms. L and Ringo dropped me off here and went into town to do some retail-oriented trekking. This is the smallest natural grass practice green I've ever seen. And hey, why not.
I'm relieved that this is not your typical "country club". I'm even wearing a t-shirt. It's cool--I checked it out with the pro shop guy beforehand.
Not many people here. The pro shop guy sent me out alone.
This is a very flat piece of land, not many trees, and so it's hard to see where you're going. There's flags in some of the less conspicuous areas. Playing here I am getting a better appreciation for the elevation changes I'm used to back home. I guess raised tee boxes have a purpose besides just looking cool.
Who needs a fancy bridge when a piece of pipe, and some dirt on top will do fine?
This is a neat par 4, the 7th. After an iron off the tee, you play into a very secluded green.
So secluded it's only accessible by footbridge. That is pretty cool. Just when I was starting to get a little bored at this place.
Par 3 #8, another cool hole, that uses the same water hazard from the last.
On the last hole, I blew my first tee ball into oblivion. But then a couple of a nice long shots to finish up. I'm not really into this round. Mentally I'm not quite there. It's kind of early for golf, and I'm running on the fumes meager hotel continental breakfast. But I'm glad I got out and got one last taste of peaceful Mainegolf. Now, I need to get to Portland and fuel up on some seafood for the drive home. Really sad to leave this state--of the union and of the mind alike.