Mini Me

A round of miniature golf— literally.

Story and photos by Josh Schermerhorn

Blue is not so sad today.  The eager children whose color spectrums have not ranged past the rainbow picked him frequently, partly because he’s the most popular color, and partly because he’s the first choice on the left.  Red, on the other hand, never has a dull moment, but it is not her day for adventure.  This day’s glory goes to me, Green.  I’ve been ignored for two days, fifty kids, and $300 of business, but today, I will be chosen.  Today, I will explore everything New York has to offer in 18 holes of mini golf at Hillbilly Fun Park in Fort Ann, New York, one stroke of the putter at a time.

The warmth of the customer’s hand prepares me for the cool evening ahead.  Once we cross the bridge to the first hole, I’m promptly dropped and stepped on in my usual starting location.  Most people choose the middle of the three placement holes so I don’t roll away down a hill, but this one chooses the left side.  How strategic.

The rubbery texture of the putter gently hits me, sending me through the covered bridge toward the hole.  It had been awhile since I felt the bricks that outlined the course, but the sharp change in direction was nothing short of expected.  I came to rest about a foot from the hole.  I’m blinded seconds later by Yellow barreling past me at Mach speeds.  His painful response off the wall sends him a considerable distance away, but we both meet the hole in two shots.

A quick ski down a mountain, whose trails is worn and let me fall off the side, makes me a little frustrated.  As I’m set down in the middle ball-holding, however, I know the proceeding shot is a straight one.  My view from three inches off the ground is filled with two mammoth towers, a spitting image of the late World Trade Center.  The replicates stood there long before the attacks, now representing only memories of a wounded country, proudly flying the United States’ stars and stripes on the north tower.         

What makes the shot tricky is the constant traffic light at the base of the structure, moving from green to yellow to red.  Green has no penalty, whereas yellow and red can hurt your score.  I leave the putter face firmly when the light struck red, rolling smoothly over the green putting surface.  Sadly for my player, he hits me a little to the left building.  I arrive at the light precisely when it turns green, but off target, crashing into the concrete on the side.  Ouch.

My next adventure takes my deep into Howe Caverns, one of New York’s most unique natural tours.  The replica is smaller of course, but seems large enough to me.  The gaping mouth of the cave leads to only darkness as it wraps toward the hole like a horseshoe.  I can’t see the hole, but have a pretty good idea that I’ll see it when I scurry out the other side.  The only thing I know for sure is that this shot’s going to hurt.  He smacks me into the cave’s abyss, sending me bouncing off the small concrete barriers and rolling in and out of the occasional lantern light on the cave’s walls.  Even with the player’s blast, I come to rest short of the hole, feeling relieved to have not been crushed too badly like Yellow, who flies by me once again, jumps the barrier, and lands in a bush. 

After taking trips down the Northway, over the Adirondacks, and around the Big Apple (literally), it’s time to visit Rip Van Winkle.  His demeanor is stoic, like he’s been asleep for 20 years or so.  I have a feeling this ride wouldn’t be quite as tranquil.  To reach him, I’ll have to navigate a half-cleared rack of bowling pins.  The trajectory looks precise from the start, but I clip the last pin, sending me barreling toward Winkle’s foot and away from the hole.  But I have felt these walls many times before, and I if there’s one thing they are good for, it’s making me bounce in a completely random direction.  Today’s direction happened to head back at the pin I originally nicked, where I hit it a second time and slowly filtered into the hole.  Take that, Rip.

Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe Dimaggio, and Mickey Mantle are always a good crowd to pass by.  Their presence in New York Yankees lore is so enormous that it takes a perfect shot to fit between them, but if I make it, a hole-in-one awaits.  The player’s putt is true.  The Yankees’ legends won’t be teeing off on me today.  I skate by their outstretched bats, each chipped and worn by the countless failed attempts to pass through unscathed.  First is the Babe, then the Iron Horse, Gehrig.  Joltin’ Joe gives a courtesy wave, and the Mick strikes out as I pass into the clearing and into the hole. 

Darkness has finally fallen as we reach the 18th hole.  I have resided to my player’s pocket while he talks to his partner.  I’m sure Yellow is having his fun rolling around in the grass or something, but I digress.  The round has gone well so far, or well enough as it could for an old mini-golf course.  The playing surface is clean as usual, and the hole designs always make for an entertaining and challenging play-through. 

I feel the warm hand pull me out into the lit world, just in time to see Yellow helplessly beat around one more time.  I drop to the starting mat and await what will hopefully be the final shot of the round.  Ahead of me is a goalie representing the current local hockey team.  In front of him is a large puck, which is where I’m heading.  To the left and right are two holes a side.  One is large and easy to make, but is blocked by a much smaller hole inside a small hockey net.  Make the net in one shot, and the player gets a free round. 

I cruise toward the puck at a slight, hopefully correct angle.  This is sure to make one of two holes on the left, leading to separate collection bins where someone will horde me and my fellow dimpled friends.  So I hope my player likes the many ice cream flavors or fantastic hot dogs offered here after crushing me around this course.  I hit the puck hard, careening straight for the goal, but veer right and miss, settling for a normal hole-in-one.  I roll down a pipe into the normal bin, gleefully landing on Yellow.  Today is my day.  Today, I was chosen to take the tour of New York, and loved it like I always do. 

What would be your idea of a great mini-golf hole?

Top of Page