State of the dry state

Dated magazines and one of the world’s most photographed golf courses. Mike Huck, an irrigation consultant, former USGA agronomist and connoisseur of California drought-related clippings, can’t shake this combination from his memory.

“If you go back to the drought we had in the 1970s and look at the covers of the magazines, there were aerial shots of Pebble Beach showing a green dot at the end of the fairway, maybe a little greener turf for the landing area and a green dot at the tee,” Huck says. “Everything was pretty brown.”

Ah, the ‘70s. Less congestion on the freeways, minimal televised golf and 5- and 6-gallon per flush toilets in California homes. What do ‘70s-style toilets mean for golf course operators today? More than a superintendent might think. “There’s no water to be saved indoors,” says Huck, the principal of Irrigation and Turfgrass Services.

Efficient interiors – most Californians use 1 ¼ or ½-gallon per flush toilets these days – mean drought-related politics are altering how outdoor businesses such as golf courses operate. Earlier this year, Gov. Jerry Brown unveiled a mandate requiring local water agencies to reduce usage 25 percent from 2013 totals by February 2016.

Different water districts are facing different burdens, according to Craig Kessler, the director of government affairs for the Southern California Golf Association. One district might be forced to reduce its potable water usage by 30 percent while a neighboring district’s target might be only 10 percent. Recycled water, something used by about a third of California’s 866 courses, is exempt from the restrictions. But the availability of recycled water, especially during summer months, is decreasing because residents are taking shorter showers, flushing toilets less and delaying laundry until washing machines are full, Huck says.

And then there are murky areas such as groundwater usage. When it comes to groundwater usage, California truly resembles the Wild West.

“There is no reporting requirement because there is no regulatory mechanism in place,” Kessler says. “It’s an honor system and by-complaint system. If somebody files a complaint on golf courses, they have to produce records which they may not have demonstrating 25 percent usage now over 2013. There are some places in the state where they have been keeping records and others where they haven’t.”

California isn’t the first state to experience an extended drought. It also isn’t the first state where politicians are forcing courses to conserve water.

Between Brown’s two stints as governor – he also held the job from 1975-83 – the Arizona Department of Water Resources passed a Groundwater Management Plan in 1984 requiring courses to reduce irrigation rates. The plan led to an increase in recycled water use and shrinkage in course acreage. The Southern Nevada Water Authority became serious about reducing golf’s water usage in 2003 when it placed courses on strict water budgets and implemented a turf removal rebate program.

“It’s not that you can’t get a million people to reduce watering their lawn,” says Arizona-based architect Forrest Richardson, who has represented the golf industry at the Western Governors’ Drought Forum. “That’s really good, but the big difference is when you quickly attack large turf users with efficiency projects.”

Golf is a $13.1-billion industry in California. The current drought started in 2011. As each day passes and external pressures on courses escalates, more resident golfers are accepting images such as the ones Huck observed in the ‘70s. Courses are using less water, playing firmer, showing brown patches and removing turf. If the drought continues, the typical California golf course in 2017 might look more like it did in 1977, when the snowpack in the Sierra Nevadas reached all-time lows.

“The fact is,” says Mike Pettit, a Santa Ana Country Club member overseeing a renovation that will ultimately remove 30 acres of turf, “a lot of members of golf clubs have been really spoiled. They see this wall-to-wall of turf and green, they see these contrived lakes that are there for no reason other than ornamental and they don’t provide any useful purpose. That is very irresponsible to start with.”

Santa Ana is in heavily populated Orange County. Members at Santa Ana and other Southern California clubs are embracing water-saving measures because they read and hear stories describing the severity of the drought every day, Pettit says.

Perhaps no part of California is more affected by Brown’s announcement than the Coachella Valley, a Low Desert tourist retreat with 123 courses. Green-loving snowbirds and tolerable water rates cultivated little incentive to implement sweeping changes. But superintendents started working behind the scenes with the Coachella Valley Water District in 2013 to significantly reduce regional golf water usage by 2020. Brown’s mandate expedited the process. “It made people realize this is serious for all of us,” says PGA West and La Quinta Resort director of agronomy Dean Miller.

Coachella Valley facilities are using multiple conservation tactics, including testing lakes to determine leakage, completing irrigation audits, reprogramming computers, upgrades nozzles and removing turf. This past winter, Miller convinced the boards that oversee PGA West to approve dormant rough for the Palmer Private Course, which hosted the final round of the PGA Tour’s Humana Challenge. Tour players embraced the move and the color contrast looked stunning on television.

“We kind of got ahead of the game and wanted to stand up and do our part,” Miller says. “It was an education process. It was something that our boards had bought into and we wanted to be the leaders in what is happening here in the Valley.”

Small water-related victories provide temporary fulfillment for superintendents facing one of the industry’s most difficult assignments: changing the culture and expectations of outsiders with significant financial investments in the region. Seeing green in the winter motivated some investments.

“They are still struggling a bit out in the desert areas,” Huck says. “That’s just a function of the memberships. At least 50 percent of the members come in from out of state. They are not eating, breathing, sleeping drought every day of their life like those of us living here.”

The drought also raises questions about the viability of operating a golf course. Owner George Kelley announced in May that Stevinson Ranch, an upscale public course in the Central Valley, will close in July. Kelley cited a desire to allocate water to almond farming instead of golf as a reason for the closure. An extended look at Stevinson Ranch’s situation reveals that its woes extended beyond water. Rounds played in 2013 dipped to 30,000, a meager total for a course with a climate conducive to year-round golf. At its peak, Stevinson Ranch hosted 44,000 rounds per year.

Industry leaders aren’t ready to place golf on California’s list of endangered recreational activities, but sagging participation numbers and a volatile water situation means operating a course in the state isn’t for the meek. Of all the stakeholders, none are in a better position to help the industry than superintendents because they are viewed as their respective facilities’ water experts.

“The industry in terms of its knowledge and expertise, particularly among superintendents, is absolutely poised to deal with anything and everything,” Kessler says. “There will not be one golf property that has to close its doors due to lack of ability to deliver given the tougher circumstances. What will happen, a combination of rising labor, environmental compliance expenses, particularly water costs, and a market that’s flat, will cause some shrinkage of the golf industry.”