Bandon’s Gift

On the 25th anniversary of the course opening, the author reflects on how Bandon Dunes has enriched his life

Bandon Dunes has been a gift. And it keeps giving. 

The idea came during a long-ago Baywood Pro-am in Arcata, Cal.: Why not just keep driving? We were already halfway to Bandon from our hometown of Santa Rosa. And so we did. And made the discovery that so many others have, before us and after us: Links golf in the United States!

Forget swings and scores, Bandon is about the steps you take overlooking the Oregon shores.

It’s about being among the towering trees at Trails as you putt out on the 11^th green. And it’s the putter you play from Preserve’s 13^th tee. Fire pits burn warmer and brighter at Bandon Dunes. And they seem to smell better. It all leaves you with an energy and emotion that follows you home and can take weeks, and often months, to wash away. As soon as it does, you immediately shift from thinking about the previous trip to getting hyper-focused on making sure there’s another one on the books. 

In total, it was eight hours in the car from Santa Rosa to Bandon Dunes.

“Getting people here is the second hardest thing we have to do at Bandon Dunes,” says Mike Keiser, the owner of Bandon Dunes who had the revelation that North American retail golfers would be willing to travel long distances to a remote location in order to experience authentic links golf. “The hardest thing we have to do is get them to come back.”

Not for us. After making that first trip, we went back again. And again. And again. And haven’t stopped since. 

On May 2, 2024, as the resort is celebrating its 25^th birthday, I’m enjoying my 28^th trip. They keep track. 

Over the years, the guys in my foursome have varied. So has the amount of golf I play, the drinks I drink, smokes I smoke, sleep I get. 

Some friends have come, others have gone. Most notably, Uncle Tony.

Tony Moke Kielhofer died May 11, 2017.

My son, Bandon Moke Ginella, was born May 12, 2017.

They passed each other on the life highway, but it’s clear their spirits are eternally connected.  

Tony Kielhofer was my mom’s brother. A scratch golfer in his teens, he chose the liquor business instead of chasing his golf dreams. And when I got to my teens, he introduced me to the game by letting me tag along in his weekly money matches. Which ultimately led us to the Baywood Pro-am, which got us going to Bandon Dunes in the early 2000’s, right around the time that Bandon Trails, the third course on property, was being built. 

Bandon seeped into Uncle Tony the way whitewater rolls up the beach and then disappears into the sand. He loved everything about it. He especially loved Bob “Shoe” Gaspar, who had been there from the beginning and who’s now the Director of Outside Happiness. It says so on his business card.

Uncle Tony would start every trip by swallowing Shoe in a hug.

His favorite course was Trails. Bandon Dunes was second. He respected Pacific Dunes and despised Old Mac. Who doesn’t love the Preserve? He never got to play Sheep Ranch, but he would’ve loved that too. His brother-in-law and best friend, Uncle Bill, shot 78 out there a few years ago at the age of 80. Uncle Bill was sure Uncle Tony was in the foursome that day, helping nudge the ball into the hole. 

Uncle Tony’s only caddie was Ray B, who also died in 2017. No doubt, they’re in a golfer’s heaven having cigarettes together, swapping stories, sharing more belly laughs.

Uncle Tony didn’t take shuttles. A rare Bandon bird who always drove himself to different spots on property. He always brought all of the wine. Uncle Bill handled the cash and payouts. Now Uncle Bill does both.

Uncle Tony made fun of my love of the labyrinth walks. He went on one and he was done.

His favorite spots on property were the back-patio looking out to Bandon’s 18^th green and the bench that overlooks the Punchbowl putting green, which is where we gathered around one evening and spread some of his ashes. 

I’ve been to Bandon Dunes a lot without Uncle Tony. I’ve been to Bandon with my Bandon twice. Once when he was 2 and then again when he was 4. He refers to the place as “My Dunes.”

I don’t argue. I love that he loves it and that he seems to understand and how much I appreciate it. Bandon is an old soul. He’s always making very profound observations and I’m sure that’s all tied to the spiritual connection to Uncle Tony. 

As for my connection to Uncle Tony, I started a tournament in his honor 15 years ago because I wanted him to know, while he was alive and could enjoy the thought, that long after he was gone we would gather in Bandon in his honor. The last time I saw him, when he was in the hospital losing his battle with cancer, with Uncle Bill by his side, all he wanted to do was talk about and plan the next Uncle Tony Invitational.  

“I don’t want anyone dilly-dallying after golf and before dinner,” he told me, emphatically poking on the hospital table. “After that last putt drops, they need to go directly to dinner. That’s critical.”

Uncle Tony liked our final round to be at Trails so it could roll right into where we have the Champion’s Dinner, at the Trails grill. But at the hospital that day, I convinced him the original course is a livelier final round venue. It’s a better course for scoring, regardless of the weather conditions, which makes for more final-round volatility. It comes back to the clubhouse after nine, which is a good opportunity to get drinks and scoring updates. The original Bandon course has a better finishing stretch along the coastline and a par-5 finishing hole with an amphitheater. And then, if there’s a need for a playoff, it’s better and easier to go to the first hole and beyond for sudden death. 

Uncle Tony was sold, but only on the condition that there would be no “dilly-dallying.”  Uncle Tony liked it when the locomotive made all the scheduled stops, no matter the level of debauchery. Especially on that final night. 

We all respected that. We still do. 

As I pull up to bag drop, as I give Shoe a hug, as I mentally thank Mike Keiser yet again, as I grab a drink, pass the big clock and walk off the first tee, as I stop to look around on the 16^th tee, as I take my hat off and shake hands on the 18^th green, and as I look up at that spot on the back-patio, I know Uncle Tony is there. He wants to hear some scores, find out who won the bets. 

And that’s what Bandon Dunes is to me: Feeling that connection to a man who meant so much to my life, who gave me the game that has given me so many friends and memories. When I’m at Bandon Dunes, I’m with Uncle Tony. 

That’s the gift that keeps giving.