by Ernst Schneidereit
had been sent to the Middle of the Continent. With me I carried two
discs. My goal was to cast them into the baskets of Europe. My task
would prove more difficult than I had thought, even with the 2002
PDGA Disc Golf Course Directory.
was no Fellowship here, just my one companion. She, however, had no
interest in my disc golfing. She was along to see the sights—imagine
that! In Germany, Land of the Teutons, the Directory said the courses
were too far afield from the paths of our sojourn. In France, the
Franks and Goths treat disc golf courses as they treat day-old croissants—they
are not to be found in their country. In Italy I fared no better.
Surely the Continent is ready for hearty souls willing to plant baskets
over the land.
Geneva, in the Land of the Helveti and the Swiss, gave hope. Yet,
there I was felled by a grave sickness (the stomach flu) and could
not rise from my sickbed. When I had recovered, my journey required
that I move on to the last and most storied destination—the Land of
the Huns and the Magyars, Budapest.
Buda Island sits near the west shore of the mighty Danube River, north
of the center of the great city of the Hungarians. The isle is not
hard for the traveler to reach, but it requires going deep underground
to the Caverns of the Metro and then walking to the Green Line city
train. One may also sail by riverboat.
closer I came to the city, the more my precious discs desired to be
tossed. With me was an Innova Shark DX midrange—a straight shooter
that would be unlikely to stray into the waters. My driver was a 150g
Innova Archangel, perfect for a water course, for it would float if
it betrayed me.
An Elfish lass, the concierge for my inn no less, told
me that the Directory's contact was outdated—no such phone number
existed anymore. Even her arts of discovery could not use it, for
it came from the Last Age of Men, a relic of the Communist period.
They did not use these numbers in this Age. She still directed me
to the north side of the island and sent me on my way with hope. There,
she said, were sporting halls and horsemen and fields, while the south
of the island housed only merchants and craftsmen. The situation seemed
grave. Would the course still be there, built in 1995 said the Directory,
if there was no keeper?
I rode the rails to my destination, I noticed large numbers of orc-like
creatures. Their hair was matted, they wore huge packs on their backs,
their clothes were tattered and shoes worn. Worst of all, no matter
what their language, these Back-Packer Orcs stank with the stench
of Mordor. They slept and fought and loitered in every station I saw
on the way. At my stop, they were streaming towards the island and
I was forced to travel along with them. What manner of evil was causing
this flood towards my destination?
I arrived at the walking bridge to the north side of Oud Buda, these
dark people were everywhere. By the hundreds they were waiting, despite
the soggy ground from a morning rain. They lay drunk in the gutters,
stoned in the mud, lying on mats and cardboard and sleeping bags on
grass and pavement and riverbank.
I came to the bridge, it was thick with them, but the discs in my
pack urged me on. I forced my way through the throng—what is the cause
of this? At the entrance to the bridge, three large trolls blocked
the way—Security Beasts. I told them to let me pass. I wished to disc
golf. They crossed their arms and grunted "Where is your Pass?"
"Why do I need a Pass?" "Rock Festival. Starts tonight.
All week long orc-folk play on island."
sight of the discs did not change their minds. They did not know of
disc golf. I snuck into the island by way of another bridge. I saw
the horse fields and docks and shops where they made machines and
places for sport. Men and Women I found and asked if they knew where
there was a disc golf course, but none knew the place or recognized
my discs for what they were. I went back to the inn, dejected. In
my task, I had failed.
I returned home, I consulted the new 2003 PDGA Directory. It too gave
the old number for the course in Budapest. I fear that this place
may no longer exist. But in other lands, I noticed more listings,
some quite near to my friends in the Middle of the Continent, such
as Mainz, Germany. I will travel there and try again. For far away
baskets my discs are calling.