What Differentiates a Good Golf Course from an Average One?

A lot of golf architecture discussion revolves around the fine differences between great courses and greater ones—and I don’t have a problem with that. It’s fun to argue about which Bandon course is best, or whether your next UK trip should be to the Surrey heathlands or the Scottish Highlands, or how many “Eggs” Pebble Beach deserves. In these debates, we tend to split hairs over strategic options, green speeds, bunker shaping, and so on. It’s not that I find these subjects uninteresting or unimportant; it’s more that, when the courses we discuss meet a certain baseline of excellence, we end up not talking about the basic characteristics that separate good golf from average golf. And that distinction is crucial if you, like me, play your regular rounds at local public courses.

The public golf where I live—Portland, Oregon—is mostly just okay. There are some well-kept modern designs that feel over-shaped to me (Langdon Farms, Heron Lakes) and some strong-boned older courses that could use tree removal and general TLC (Eastmoreland, Rose City). Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy playing at these places and appreciate the affordable green fees. But I wouldn’t consider the golf itself substantially better than average.

One exception is Forest Hills Golf Course in Cornelius, about 20 miles west of the city.

The author's dad teeing off on the eighth hole at Forest Hills

A lot of golf architecture discussion revolves around the fine differences between great courses and greater ones—and I don’t have a problem with that. It’s fun to argue about which Bandon course is best, or whether your next UK trip should be to the Surrey heathlands or the Scottish Highlands, or how many “Eggs” Pebble Beach deserves. In these debates, we tend to split hairs over strategic options, green speeds, bunker shaping, and so on. It’s not that I find these subjects uninteresting or unimportant; it’s more that, when the courses we discuss meet a certain baseline of excellence, we end up not talking about the basic characteristics that separate good golf from average golf. And that distinction is crucial if you, like me, play your regular rounds at local public courses.

The public golf where I live—Portland, Oregon—is mostly just okay. There are some well-kept modern designs that feel over-shaped to me (Langdon Farms, Heron Lakes) and some strong-boned older courses that could use tree removal and general TLC (Eastmoreland, Rose City). Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy playing at these places and appreciate the affordable green fees. But I wouldn’t consider the golf itself substantially better than average.

One exception is Forest Hills Golf Course in Cornelius, about 20 miles west of the city.

The downhill tee shot on the par-5 sixth hole at Forest Hills

A strong routing

At Forest Hills, the greens sit on natural high points, the green-to-tee walks are short, and the holes use the land in many different ways, running alternately through valleys, along ridges, and across both. It’s the kind of routing that good architects created when they knew they couldn’t move much dirt and assumed players would walk.

The Bells' routing at Forest Hills creates a gathering point for tees and greens on the slopes around (what appear to be) natural wetlands

Minimal earthmoving

I dislike when fairways are graded out and artificially shaped in order to create “fair” lies. Architects: either stop doing this kind of work or hide it better!

As far as I can see, the Bells didn’t do much earthmoving at Forest Hills. They dug some bunkers (just 29 exist today) and benched a few greens into hillsides, but otherwise they left the land alone. As a result, several fairways have the kind of funky slopes, humps, and hollows that only nature produces. These contours make for exciting, unpredictable golf and give the player a feel for the landscape that predated the course.

The view from the tee on the fifth hole, a sharp dogleg left

Uncluttered playing corridors

As the name indicates, Forest Hills doesn’t lack for trees, but it has avoided the type of ambitious planting program that cluttered up many Pacific Northwest courses in the post-World War II era. The hole corridors are plenty wide, and most of the trees appear to be indigenous species. They lend character to the place without, for the most part, disrupting the golf.

Unfortunately, when I played Forest Hills last July, I saw some new plantings, presumably replacing losses from the ice storm that hit Oregon in February 2021. Let’s just hope the additions stop there.

The 17th hole, a fine downhill par 3 that could have used a green expansion rather than three new trees that will eventually cover the green in shadow

That’s pretty much it. If a course meets those four criteria, I’m probably going to enjoy it, even if I find the other aspects of its design and presentation mediocre.

It’s tempting to imagine what Forest Hills could be if it were renovated by a talented architect. If you get a drink in me, I’ll probably tell you that, with some Bell Sr.-style refinements to the bunkers and greens, it could be the best course in the Portland area. While Waverley Country Club is the clear No. 1 right now—a Gil Hanse restoration and a location next to the Willamette River are a tough combination to beat—Forest Hills’ property is more coherent, not as compromised by surrounding development, and better suited to golf.

But I wouldn’t want the course to be altered too much. It has a quiet, countrified air that wouldn’t fit with Billy Bunkers and USGA greens. Plus, the current walking rate tops out at $35, and I’d prefer it to stay that way.

Forest Hills is good right now, and good golf is a rarer commodity than it should be.

* There’s conflicting information out there about the Forest Hills’ history—the course’s website claims a solo Bell Sr. design and a 1927 opening date—but I’ve sided with the assessment of Bell expert Tommy Naccarato here.