It’s often said that certain golfers have a preference for certain courses, places that “fit their game” and tournaments that offer them a certain comfort level that translates into success. The same can be said for photographers. Some thrive on the elbow-throwing, run your-ass-ragged spectacle of a U.S. Open at Bethpage; some prefer the trade-off of a beautiful location for the uncompromising rigidity of the Masters. Others (myself included) particularly enjoy the quirkiness and unpredictability of an Open Championship, especially when it’s held in Scotland.

But ask me where I’m most comfortable, which course suits my eye and affords me the chance to not only enjoy my work and to take my creativity on rejuvinative walk on a course with great light in gorgeous setting, but also to enjoy myself? I’ll take Harbour Town, thank you very much.

The tournament is known among the players for its low-stress, relaxing atmosphere and as a welcome change from the high-wire act of the previous week’s festivities in Augusta. For me, it’s a chance to work at a great course, with perfect weather, and in a great place–lots of beach for my customary run in the morning, good restaurants, and nice people. It’s always easy to fall into a routine at a place you go back to year after year, and many times it’s to your detriment. Not here.

In Hilton Head it’s the routine that I look forward to the most. Up early, I like to get to the course before dawn so that I can be ready to take advantage of early morning mist, which eventually gives way to the sunlight that streams through the Spanish moss  hanging from the trees. Eventually I’ll make it to the fifth tee, where for an hour or so the morning sun looks as if it’s been piped in off of a movie set, warm and direct and still low enough to get under caps and visors as players hit from a tee box that’s mercifully uncluttered by ropes or marshals in the background. By ten o’clock the light is gone, replaced by harsh shadows that are only worth shooting in if you have a truly pressing need. I don’t–at least at the beginning of the week–so I’ll head back to the hotel for a 4- or 5-mile run, follow that up with a deservedly indulgent brunch of chocolate chip pancakes and eggs at Stack’s Pancake House, and head back to the course in the afternoon, waiting for the sun to settle down again. Maybe I’ll head to my favorite tee, the 14th (see below). Or perhaps I might use the afternoon to try something a little different (that’s below, as well). Either way I’ll wind up back at the hotel just before dark, relax for a bit before making the one-mile walk to one of my two favorite restaurants on the island, the Santa Fe Cafe or Alfred’s, depending on whether I’m in the mood for Southwestern or German, enjoy a glass of wine, and take a slow stroll back under the stars, contemplating sleep and the day to follow. As covering golf goes, it really is about as good as it gets.

UP IN THE AIR…

If you follow golf at all in newspapers and magazines, no doubt you’ve seen what’s arguably biggest visual cliche on the PGA Tour: The view from behind the 18th tee at Harbour Town, with the lighthouse looming high above the grandstands on the 18th green. (If you haven’t, I’ve conveniently provided this year’s version of it to the right). Everybody shoots it, every year, if for no other reason that if you don’t, the folks back at the office are going to wonder where it is.

Earlier in the week, Sports Illustrated picture editor Miriam Marseu and I discussed the possibility of getting something a little different of the 18th. Nestled hard along Calibogue Sound, the way the fairway is roped off allows photographers only to pass down the right (land-ward) side, shooting in to the water (and the sun) and making for some extremely boring images. What if, we wondered, there was a way to shoot it from the opposite vantage point, with the sun at my back and the water in the foreground? Somehow this would necessitate getting out on the sound. Fortunately, I had come to a place where help in that regard–or really, in any regard–was abundant.

The folks in the media center at Harbour Town are among the best on tour, and not just because they rise far above their peers by stocking the press tent with the New York Times. They are always willing to help with any request, be it for a tee time nearby or, in my case, for a boat. For example: I asked Carol Bartholomew, who helps run the media center, if she could give me a lead on a boat to charter for Thursday afternoon. She immediately offered that her husband had one, and volunteered him for duty if he was free that afternoon.

He wasn’t, but he knew someone who was, and within minutes I was set up for the afternoon. However, Carol continued to work the phones on my behalf, eventually contacting Brooke McCullough at H2O Sports, a water sports/charter operation at the marina, which is a five minute walk from the press tent. (Have I mentioned I love this place?) “Heck,” he told her “I’ll put him up in a parasail if he wants.” Carol relayed the message–jokingly, I presume. A light bulb went off above my head. A potentially dim one, but a bulb nonetheless. I can’t say I’d ever shot pictures from a parasail before. Come to think of it, I cant say I’d ever been up in a parasail before.

And so it came to pass that on Thursday afternoon I went out on a boat–the pictures weren’t very successful as the angles and elevations were all wrong, but we wouldn’t find that out without trying, right?–and on Friday and Saturday I strapped two cameras around my neck, hauled my ass into a sling (literally), and for 20 glorious minutes each day hovered above the sound with nothing but 800 feet of rope and a knot keeping me from fluttering away to Savannah.

Who says this job doesn’t have its good points?

WARNING: PHOTO-GEEKY DISCUSSION TO FOLLOW FOR THE NEXT 4 PARAGRAPHS…

The 14th tee at Harbour Town is one of my favorite tee boxes in all of golf, in that it gives me a rare opportunity to try something a little different–a mirror lens. Instantly recognizable for the “donut” effect in its backgrounds created by its optical construction, mirror lenses are literal dinosaurs, but when used under the right circumstances can create some beautiful images.

You don’t see mirror lenses much anymore. Part of that is due to their near-obsolescence–Nikon and Canon don’t produce them anymore, and finding a sharp one on the used market is at times a daunting proposition. But if you can find one–mine is a 1980s-era Nikkor 500mm f8, with a Canon EF adapter allowing me to use it on a 5D Mark II–it can lend a once-in-a-while, be-careful-not-to-overdo-it bit of creativity to shooting.

By their very nature, though, mirror lenses make them hard to over-use. First of all, they’re manual focus, and, at f8 on today’s crappy plastic focusing screens, afford an extremely low-percentage shot. Second, it takes a convergence of a number of factors to make an image “work” and get the full effect out of the lens: namely, the image must be back-lit, but not to strongly as to cause flare, the background can’t be solid, thus allowing the back-light to “dapple” through it, which will in turn produce the “donuts” in out-of-focus areas, and finally, since the size of those rings decreases with both film-to-subject and subject-to-background distance, the right balance needs to be struck between both of those elements. Too close on either, and the rings will be too large to even recognize as such; too far and they’ll be so small as to be more distracting than anything else.

But the fourteenth at Harbour Town? Once two o’clock rolls around, it’s perfect for the rest of the afternoon. In fact, I usually leave the mirror lens at home these days, but I bring it on this trip specifically for that one spot.

NOT A PHOTO GEEK? YOU CAN START READING AGAIN.

The tournament ended in bizarre fashion, with Brian Davis sinking a birdie putt on the last hole to force a playoff with Jim Furyk. But in one of those crazy instances that demonstrates how the seemingly arcane rules of golf, and their dependence on self-enforcement, set the sport apart from just about every other form of competition, Davis called a penalty on himself for touching a loose impediment in a hazard, effectively forfeiting the playoff an handing Furyk the victory. If the post-tournament commentaries are any indication, Davis’ actions probably did him more favors in terms of his reputation among fans and peers and, one would hope, karma, than any win possibly could have (Michelle Wie, are you listening?). Let’s hope it’s not the last we’ve seen of him. I have a feeling it won’t be.

Next up for me: the LPGA’s Tres Maria Championship in Morelia, Mexico next week. Lorena Ochoa’s impending retirement and press conference on Friday (more on that as it happens) should make things a bit of a zoo. And a typically un-walkable Jack Nicklaus design should make things even less fun. We’ll see.