They say you can’t start a journey if you don’t know where you’re going.
I’ve never believed that.
The best places I’ve found came from getting lost—a dirt road that turned to sand, a wrong turn that led to a hidden cove, a local who pointed down a trail and said, trust me. I’ve been trusting strangers for most of my life, and so far, it’s worked out fine.
That’s how The BeachGolfer came to be—part curiosity, part accident, and a little faith in wherever the tide leads. Every beach tells a story, and every story starts with one swing.
I travel with one club—a 5-iron that’s older than some of the bartenders I meet. It’s not for distance; it’s for balance. Something about the weight of it feels right. You hold onto certain things, not because you need them, but because they remind you who you are.
The beach has a way of teaching that lesson. You can’t fight the tide. You learn to stand steady, take your swing, and watch where it goes—sometimes far, sometimes nowhere. Either way, the sound stays with you.
I’m not a writer, not really. Just a guy who likes a good story, a quiet beach, and the sound of a solid swing. The world’s full of noise, but the ocean has its own rhythm. You just have to slow down long enough to hear it.
So here’s to new beaches, new friends, and a few golf balls lost to the tide.
-BG
Travel light. Swing hard.
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