Adam Lawrence travels to Chattanooga, Tennessee to visit the debut project of an ambitious new firm.

It’s hard being a young golf course architect these days. While designers who have already established their reputation have a range of options, even in the present difficult golf development market, those still seeking to make their name are in an invidious position.

Finding that elusive client willing to hire you to build your first golf course under your own name is a huge task for any architect. Even if your project is small scale and low budget, being able to prove your ideas in the dirt – and to have something to show prospective future clients – is the essential step between calling yourself a golf course architect and actually being one.

Which is why Rob Collins and Tad King are right to be grateful, excited and proud in equal measure about the work they are doing at the Sequatchie Valley course in South Pittsburg, about half an hour from Chattanooga in Tennessee.

Collins, who formerly worked as a design coordinator for Gary Player’s practice, and King, who has built many courses for other architects in his alternative guise as a contractor, formed their own design company a couple of years ago. Not long afterwards, they picked up the Sequatchie job, and it’s fair to say it has been their main concern since.
Owners the Thomas family built the nine-hole Sequatchie course in the early 1950s, but sold it to a group of local people later on. More recently, the family – which owns a large concrete producing firm – bought the course back, and decided to try and transform it into a top class nine holes.

King and Collins, as you’d expect for a debut project, have thrown their hearts and souls into the Sequatchie rebuild. With their clients’ concrete company providing an almost limitless supply of sand, they have been able to cap the entire site to improve drainage, and have used a wide range of classical design tricks to add interest to the play. Take the eighth hole, a short par four with an enormous double plateau green, and a small bunker concealed on the direct line to the flag, intended to catch the player who goes for glory but doesn’t quite make it.

The second green is the eighth’s polar opposite, a tiny target, with a hollow, designed to replicate St Andrews’ Valley of Sin in front. Just to emphasise the Scottish theme, a central bunker complex in the fairway echoes the Principal’s Nose and requires the golfer to make a clear decision on the tee. And, for anyone who doesn’t fancy the valley, a large mound on the right of the green offers the opportunity to roll an approach in from that side.

Given the tight site, I think Collins and King have been sensible in emphasising short par fours at Sequatchie. Three of the course’s nine holes offer a brave golfer a good chance of a birdie, but the challenging hazards and extravagantly contoured greens will exact penalties from those who fail to execute their shot choices correctly. The fifth hole, which Collins says is inspired by Riviera’s tenth and Augusta’s third, two of the world’s greatest miniature two-shotters, is probably the pick of the bunch, with a deep and mean pot bunker, supported by railway sleepers, cutting into the boomerang green. At less that 290 yards from the back tee, many players will fancy their chances of driving the green, but that bunker should weigh heavily on their minds. Even once they have reached the green, putting will be far from straightforward.

You’d expect a course with so many strong features to have a dramatic closer, and Sequatchie doesn’t disappoint. In these days of ball-busting par fours, though, to have a final hole that is only a flick with a wedge is pretty unusual, and brave on the architects’ part. That bravery is also evidenced by the green’s design: it takes the classic principle of the Redan, and puts it into a rather unusual context.

Most redan greens are situated at the end of fairly long par threes. CB Macdonald, who introduced the strategy to America, wanted golfers to be able to hit a running shot, with a relatively straight faced club, up the bank, off the kicker and down to the flag. Alternatively, if they were good enough, they could attack the hole straight on, by hitting a high iron over the deep fronting bunker and attempt to stop the ball on the fallaway green.

Collins’ take on the redan is intriguing. The hole is tiny, less than 115 yards from the back tee, and thus only a very short iron for most players. To compensate, he has amped up to the max the hole’s key feature. I do not think I have ever seen a redan green that slopes away from the line of play as steeply as this one does. Thus, the high-flying, soft landing wedge that would be the obvious play had better be extremely precise and well-struck, or it will disappear out the back. The alternative is a knockdown shot, effectively a long chip and run, that bumbles up the slope and trickles down to the hole. I genuinely don’t know how this hole will work and be received, but it is a bold take on a classic theme.

Boldness recurs often at Sequatchie. Collins and King, both clearly lovers of old-style golf, have crammed more classic design ideas into nine holes than many designers would use in a 27-hole complex. I have concerns that golfers not accustomed to playing this sort of course may scratch their heads and say ‘What on earth is this?’ more than once during their rounds; but one thing for certain is that they will not be bored. This has the potential to become one of the most interesting nine hole courses I have seen – except that the owners are talking about acquiring more land and expanding it to eighteen at some point!