Las Vegas: Call of the Wild

by Ken Van Vechten

This Wolf Isn't the Only One With Something to Say

What if someone built a golf resort without the resort? If it happened in Vegas, you’d have Las Vegas Paiute Golf Resort, 54 holes of sheer design artistry and not a hotel room in site. And it could be the best place in town for a golf getaway.

Located on tribal land in a long, broad valley bracketed by mountains about a 30-minute drive northwest of Glitter Gulch, the Paiute tribe’s golf complex is the largest in greater Las Vegas. (Yes, Lake Las Vegas is on the way to 54 holes, but that’s on the way, and Angel Park does have twin full-length 18s, lighted short course and putting course; but Paiute still wins.) Pete Dye’s firm handled the design work, though from a mechanical pencil-on-paper and visual standpoint, there are in essence two styles.

The first two courses, Snow Mountain and Sun Mountain opened in the mid-1990s, and are decidedly kinder, gentler Dye routings. Both courses hug the land, with a generous mantle of rolling fairway edged by native vegetation and, in season, a riot of wildlflowers. Forgetting for a second the fact that turfgrass is antithetical to the desert, these could be the most “natural” golf courses in Sin City.

Forced carries are minimal and the deep bunkers and shouldering waste areas for which Dye gained fame at PGA West and Sawgrass give way to subtle yet effective doglegging, the natural rise and fall of the land and constricted landing areas as the means to put bite in the courses (and with ratings pushing 74, there are plenty of teeth out here). More amazing is his incorporation into the design of “traditional” architectural features: multiple drive and approach angles — shorter, more aggressive; longer, more forgiving — shallow-bottom bunkering that looks like it belongs with the course, green openings that put chipping back in the game. It is strategic, sometimes heroic golf, without being overly penal. Perhaps the most enjoyable of the many Dye courses we’ve played over the years.

If forced to choose, Snow Mountain gets the nod because there’s more sleight-of-hand to the routing, more risk-reward doglegging, a classic cape hole and as memorable of a trio of bring-you-home holes as you’ll find in these here parts.
The par-4 No. 7 and No. 13 holes are unique plays on the tried-and-true recipe for barely 300-yarders. Reaching the No. 7 greens from the tees is worth the attempt each and every time because, other than some bunkers, there’s not much deterrence, and the wind — and Paiute can be downright Texan in that regard — typically assists. On No. 13, uphill, hurting breeze, all-desert carry, slap ’em out safe and sound with a 4-iron and hope not to commit seppuku with a wedge. The two holes are separated in length by seven measly yards, yet the strategies couldn’t be more different.

No. 10 is the aforementioned cape, a leftward arcing 380-yard par 4 with the obligatory lake a constant companion on the left and a look that is flat-out gorgeous with cactus, mountains, no stinking condos, houses or McMansions (anywhere on any of the courses) and water so Crater Lake clear and blue that if Steve Wynn owned the place, you’d just know it was manufactured in some secret laboratory. And the closing holes burn into the memory circuits — a sometimes reachable par 5 (17) that’s all about placement, a vicious watery par 4 (18) with passion and pain played out before the assemblage in the bar just beyond and a top 5-in-Nevada-worthy par 3 (16) requiring a longish iron over water to a green that runs away; if the hole is deep-left and you’re anywhere near it, it’s a mishit.

But favoring Snow Mountain is no slight to the other Mountain — Sun — which during past Paiute visits has inched just ahead of its brother at times. Sun Mountain puts everything out there in front, what-you-see-is-what-you-get golf, with brain decidedly more important than brawn. And the course is notable for its “eyelash” bunkers — alternating, reclining strips of wood and grass — sprinkled about.

The newer Wolf Course, opened in late 2001, looks even less “Dye” than its siblings. Sure there’s a hit-or-die island green (the par-3 No. 15) and one or two building-swallowing traps, but that’s about it. Wolf is situated on a higher portion of the property with less elevation change but a seemingly endless supply of mounds and hummocks that give each hole a feeling of isolation, like some of Nicklaus’ flatland courses, but with less artifice. You just know a lot of dirt was moved here, but exactly where?

Like my changing allegiances with the other two courses, within Wolf I’ve had varying dalliances. Three holes, however, always stay with me — the easy birdie-easy, double-short par-5 No. 6; the mid-400-yard, 90-degree-right, desert-interceding No. 14; and the home hole. No. 6 is all about rewarding a true drive. A waste area runs most of the way down the left, ultimately cleaving the hole into two parts. Most of it plays downhill until the approach, and while desert, hummocks and traps short portend trouble. Dye left plenty of room deep for those who want to have a go at it, and in this day and age not a whole lot of courses present a par 5 that’s conceivably in most players’ wheelhouses. The 14th is just flat rude, demanding a long, straight drive that leaves a long approach to a double-bubble green, unless your name is J.B. Holmes and you can reach the far side of the two-part fairway that from the tee has a certain Earhart-desperately-scans-the-horizon quality to it. Another long par 4 brings it home. The lake on the right should not be in play, and good drives funnel down a v-ditch fairway. Second shots come with mid-irons from hanging downhill lies — oh joy — to a pushed-up green with a couple of silos for bunkers short-right.

The best tip on Wolf? Forget your “usual” tees and play the appropriate yardage. On a course where it pays to think about from where you want to hit the next shot, with wind, a Library of Congress-sized array of potential lies and middle tees set at 6,500 yards, consider playing the beta male.

OK, so there’s no resort at Las Vegas Paiute Golf Resort. (But one is still on the drawing boards, perhaps four or five years away.) I say to hell with it, the place is that good. And for the money you’ll save not playing one of the overpriced wannabes back in town, you can fill up a lot of gas tanks.

Celebratory howls no extra charge. FG

Paiute Golf Resort

www.lvpaiutegolf.com  |  866.284.2833

THREE OF A KIND

The half-hour drive from town is time well-invested, even if you have to do it both ways several days in a row. With three courses by Pete Dye that except for a bulkhead here and an island green there are about the least Pete Dye courses in creation, it’s a win-win-win situation. Located on Native American land northwest of Las Vegas, Paiute is refreshingly free of housing and other experience-stifling urban encroachments.

Snow Mountain

Par: 72
Yardage: 7146
Rates: $54-$175

Sun Mountain

Par: 72
Yardage: 7112
Rates: $54-$155

Wolf

Par: 72
Yardage: 7604
Rates: $75-$215

The Skinny: There’s not a lamb in this flock, so if one course is booked, simply sign up on another and you won’t be disappointed. Wolf is the most raucous of the group, and that’s only partly due to its 7,600 yards. Sun Mountain is more WYSIWYG golf, and despite what the USGA’s numbers say, club officials believe it typically plays the most difficult under tournament conditions. Elder statesman Snow Mountain is beguiling, the trickster of the clan, offering up risk-reward opportunities aplenty and a closing three holes that are as good as any in the desert.