Well I am here to let you in on a little known secret; if you are a golf addict, you can get your fix for free at a course that's only a pitch and a putt away from your dorm room.

This little gem of golf heaven is the Old Town Golf Club. The exclusive country club located just off the campus has been a secret of student golfers at this university for years. Having heard stories of the place where Wadkins and Strange used to hone their games, my friend and I decided to check it out. As we walked down Faculty Drive with our clubs, we received strange looks from the residents, many of whom weren't aware they live in such close proximity to the course.

As we lost sight of Collins Hall, we came across our first obstacle, an eight-foot tall barbed-wire fence. The fence surrounds the entire course and is the only way to gain access if you are not a member. We tossed our bags over and began to scale the beast. I rejoiced in reaching the other side, but to my dismay, found that I had ripped a large hole in my brand new khaki pants on the way down. My heavy-set friend stopped laughing as he contemplated how he was going to make it over. His complete lack of athletic ability and coordination forced us to dig a large hole under the fence, where he crawled under and in the process, covered himself in dirt from head to toe.

Fortunately for us, it was almost 4:15 on a Friday afternoon. Since the club is made up of mostly elderly folk, they were all eating dinner and getting ready for bed, leaving the course pretty much empty. We started on the 12th hole, a par 4 far away from the clubhouse, and planned to play through the 17th hole, which loops back around to where we started. On the 15th hole, we were caught by a group of walkers and decide to let them play through. It was a foursome from the men's golf team. They all blasted their tee shots miles past ours and were laughing amongst themselves, probably about the hole in my pants and my filthy friend.

After completing the six-hole loop, my friend and I ended up tied. Since there was a small wager at stake as well as a great amount of pride, we decided to hike the hill to the 8th hole, a downhill par four with the steeple of Wait Chapel in the distance. I hooked my drive in the woods and my friend cold topped his barely past the women's tee.

My heart stopped as a man who called himself "the Ranger" asked us for our names. As we were escorted off the course in his cart, he threatened us that next time he would have us arrested for trespassing. We didn't really care because we had finally found our playground and my friend's dad is a lawyer.

Gerry Smith is a sophomore.