The best airports for golf travel and which ones are a hassle
The trouble starts in the lift after leaving my apartment. Apparently, it’s impossible for modern humans to see a golf-travel bag and not make a comment. You know, like, “I’m jealous! Where are you going?” How dare they? Then the Uber driver glares at me like I’m trying to bring a crocodile into his Camry. Relax, mate. If it doesn’t fit in the boot, I’ll put it in the front seat.
Travelling with golf clubs can be a headache, but it’s worth it compared to the alternative: not playing golf or, worse, playing with a hire set. There are perks, albeit small ones. For instance, I’m never tempted to take carry-on, and I can pack two pairs of socks per day instead of one.
Once you arrive at your destination, you’re both glad and relieved that your clubs made it, but the process can be a logistical nightmare.
If there’s any sort of line at the baggage drop-off, you’re screwed. Most travel bags aren’t very ergonomic. I know mine isn’t. There’s no good way to put it down, and you can’t rest your backpack on top of it like you can with a suitcase. If you stand the clubs up vertically, you risk someone knocking them over with just the slightest nudge. Then you get to the front of the line, and the agent won’t let you lay the clubs down on the scale; the person thinks you’re trying to fudge the numbers and makes you stand them up straight. Can’t we all just save ourselves the effort? I’m not a tour player; my bag ain’t 25 kilograms.
In some airports, such as Sydney and Melbourne, you’ve got to bring your clubs to the oversize baggage area. If there’s no attendant there, tough. Wait until there is. Once you land, your first job is to figure out whether your clubs will come out with the regular baggage (which is bad because handlers toss suitcases around if they think they’re filled exclusively with clothes and shoes) or in the oversize section (good because they know if they break something oversize, they’re going to hear about it).
These days, roughly 80 percent of airports sequester the golf bags from the normal bags, but the oversize bags seem to always come out last. I could write a novel with the time I’ve spent anxiously waiting for my green travel bag to arrive. It’s a particularly nervy experience waiting for oversize at Sydney Airport’s international arrivals. You are taunted as you walk past the huge customs line to the oversize area, hoping it doesn’t keep growing while you wait for your clubs.
If you’re lucky enough to have played golf in the US, you’re likely to have gone through LAX at Los Angeles. At the United terminal at LAX, the oversize-baggage section is dangerously close to the public footpath. Although the area is roped off, the attendants never seem particularly bothered about who’s grabbing which bag. Once you lay eyes on yours, you must pounce. Don’t even get me started about the rush of adrenaline that comes when checking to make sure your driver didn’t get snapped in half. That happened to yours truly on the way home from a dream work trip to New Zealand for this publication several years ago. Glass half full? At least it was snapped after playing Kauri Cliffs.
I acknowledge the good fortune of a) the privilege of playing Kauri Cliffs and b) playing Kauri Cliffs with a driver in one piece. Speaking of, New Zealand’s regional airports are dreamy. Little country airports where the Kiwi accent is always thicker than in Auckland. But even Auckland is a nice international airport. If you’ve ever sat in the Speight’s Ale bar inside Auckland Airport, there’s always a nice buzz created by holidaymakers who are off to Queenstown or Christchurch. Similar good vibes are given off courtesy of a funny sign at Dublin Airport, another popular landing spot for Australians who have played golf in Ireland and Northern Ireland. The sign was on one of the walls in the baggage carousel and it read like a dictionary definition, “Craic… adjective: fun/banter. In a sentence: Let’s have some craic.” Already you’re in a good mood before you even get to Portmarnock Golf Club.
In the US, the big airports are… big. And the rental car (not hire car in the US, “rental car”) process is always confusing. We’ve all come to dread renting cars in big-city airports because they’re too spread out. It’s no fun to try to wield that burly sack through a crowded terminal. If you’ve had the experience of travelling to the Masters, you’ve probably landed at Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson and driven across to Augusta. You’ll sometimes have to walk the equivalent of 18 holes while constantly searching for clear pathways… only to head up a walking escalator and wait for an annoyingly not-short tram ride to pick up your vehicle.
The Florida airports we frequent – Jacksonville for the Players Championship and Orlando for the Arnold Palmer Invitational – get a pat on the back for having the rental-car garage across the street from the terminal. Melbourne gets a big thumbs up here, too. Straight out the front door and across the zebra crossing and you’re met with a host of rental-car options. The same goes for Avalon Airport in Victoria: seamless transition from plane to rental car. We must note, however, a few experiences in March that left a lot to be desired. It turns out most of the rental-car companies at Australia’s main airports sold a huge chunk of fleets when the pandemic hit and haven’t been able to buy them back. Suffice to say, if you need wheels on your next domestic golf trip, book early.
As a rule, the smaller the airport, the easier the experience. My clubs were waiting for me in Charleston, South Carolina, in Columbus, Ohio, and The Bahamas, and they certainly know how to handle a golf bag in Augusta, Georgia. But the gold standard of golf-club travel is the Monterey Regional Airport in California. Yes, it ticks all the boxes – small, friendly staff, easily accessible ground transportation – but the real reason it stands alone is a simple one: if you’re there, and you’ve brought the sticks, chances are you’ve got some incredible golf in your near future.
Photo by getty images: zia soleil
