My total honest and frustrating review of one of my favorite golf courses in Polk County. All opinions are my own.

To Play at Sanlan, You Need a Lot of Balls

No, seriously.

You will need a lot of balls.

Golf balls, that is.

Preferably bought in bulk and carrying no sentimental value whatsoever, because Sanlan has a way of swallowing them whole. Woods, rough, fairway. It does not discriminate. To ne honest, when it’s dry and reasonable manicured, it is a gorgeous, rolling golf course with narrow fairways gorgeous (and sometimes forgiving) woods, water, and lots of critters. Recently, it’s been brutal.

I played eighteen holes with two of my usual partners in crime, Melissa and Reid, in triple-digit Florida heat. My score, apparently feeling left out, decided to keep pace with the temperature.

Recent rains had turned the course into swamp golf. The ground was soft, the air was heavy, and the fairways had grass averaging roughly four inches long.

The fairways.

Four inches.

Traditionally, the fairway is where golfers are rewarded for hitting the ball in the correct direction. At Sanlan, it is simply the rough with a more flattering name.

You could hit a beautiful drive straight down the middle, watch it land, drive directly to the spot, and still spend five minutes staring into the grass like detectives investigating a very tiny kidnapping.

“It landed right here.”

“I saw it bounce.”

“It can’t be far.”

“What color was it again?”

These are the traditional final words spoken before a golf ball is declared legally dead.

I lost four balls during the round, which I consider a remarkably restrained performance under the circumstances. They were not lost so much as absorbed into the Sanlan ecosystem.

Someday, archaeologists will dig there and conclude that Polk County once had an advanced civilization based entirely on Callaways and poor decisions.

If your ball landed in the actual rough and you were lucky enough to find it, club selection became fairly simple.

You needed a weed whacker.

A machete would also have been acceptable.

Possibly a small tractor.

The heat added another layer of difficulty. By the back nine, we were no longer playing golf. We were participating in an outdoor endurance event while holding expensive lightning rods.

Florida heat does not merely surround you. It climbs into the cart, sits beside you, drinks your water, and questions your life choices.

Even the wildlife came out to watch.

A raccoon appeared, presumably looking for snacks or signs of intelligent life. A bunny also stopped by, apparently confident that none of us could hit anything accurately enough to pose a threat.

They looked amused.

Frankly, they had reason.

Through all of this, the staff remained genuinely kind, cheerful, and helpful.

That is the odd thing about Sanlan. The course may try to break you, bury your golf balls, and send you into the rough with gardening equipment, but the people working there could not be nicer.

The staff is as friendly as the course is harsh.

They welcome you warmly, answer questions, help wherever they can, and then send you out into the wilderness with the quiet optimism of people who know exactly what is waiting for you.

Was it pristine golf?

No.

Was it fast?

Also no.

Did we lose balls after watching them land in plain sight?

Absolutely.

But the three of us weekend warriors played all eighteen holes in brutal heat, survived the swamp, entertained the wildlife, and somehow remained friends.

That counts as a successful round. So let’s dive into what you should know if you are visiting Grady Country with your golf clubs;

Bring sunscreen.

Bring water.

Bring bug spray.

Bring a sense of humor.

And above all, bring a lot of balls.

Sanlan plans to keep some.