Corey Pavin on Taking a Shot at Making Golf Greens More Green

Though golf courses offer long acres of lush grass, tall trees and rippling ponds, they’re not the most popular venues among environmentalists. Citing their effect on wildlife and the potential impact on a venue’s water table, those worried about conservation and sustainability find much to dislike on any 18-hole tract.

For more than a decade, 1995 U.S. Open champion Corey Pavin has worked to improve golf’s relationships with the world hosting it. Known as one of the more amiable and self-effacing players on the PGA Tour (and, currently, the Champions Tour), the 64-year-old native of Southern California remains one of the leading proponents of sustainability in golf.

During preparations to play the 2024 Senior PGA Championship at Michigan’s Harbor Shores—a course built on a reclaimed industrial dumping ground in Benton Harbor—Pavin explored what brought him into the sustainability movement and why he continues to push more environmentally responsible golf courses.

Penta : You claimed a Major Championship, won 15 times on the PGA Tour and captained a Ryder Cup team during four decades of professional golf. How did you find an interest in sustainability along the way?

Corey Pavin: I grew up in California, so recycling was always a big deal there before the movement expanded across the United States and around the world. So, I came into golf already aware of the need to recycle and look after the environment.

What brought you into a leadership position working toward environmental sustainability in golf?

I do most of this work due to my association with Dow Chemical. I’ve been with them for 15 years now, and they started a big program for sustainability and recycling. They’ve done a lot to make me aware of what needs to be done and helped me to reduce my own carbon footprint. … I also worked with the nonprofit GEO Foundation for Sustainable Golf, which is dedicated to making golf and the golf community ecologically friendly.

Have you found there to be tension between the sport of golf and the environmentalist movement?

I knew growing up the environmental effects of golf and golf courses was a huge concern and a cause of a lot of conversation. There were debates over the chemicals used on a course and how they can affect groundwater and other elements.

I think a lot of strides are being made with what materials get used on a golf course with an eye toward what effect they could have on the environment. There’s been a lot of work in the last two decades to make courses less harmful.

What advancements have golf operations made in course design, building, and management?

First of all, there’s been a push for years now with course designers to avoid bringing in any outside species such as grass or other plants that could change the ecology of an area. You’re seeing so many more courses now that use only native elements. There’s also been a lot of strides made on how courses are maintained, what grasses they use, and how the greens crews treat the grasses.

Is it difficult to balance environmental factors with efforts to provide a quality golf course?

You want to design and build a quality course and keep it in good shape, but we have the means now to eliminate negative environmental impact from a golf course being built or operating. For example, concepts such as using recycled, non-potable water for the grass or choosing salt-resistant grasses that can be fed with brackish seawater keep fresh water preserved and entirely off the course.

Beyond water usage, what positive effects can a modern golf course have on the environment?

You also have to consider the adjacent land near a course. The presence of golf near a forest or marshland can lead to an effort to preserve that space that wasn’t a priority earlier.

Are you seeing efforts to update or reimagine golf courses built before the environmental movement came to the fore?

Yes, there are so many modification ideas a golf course can use to limit or reduce the amount of grass that needs to be watered. I’m seeing courses add natural waste areas of plants that require very little water or more sandy areas that require no water at all. Over the last decade, I’ve seen courses all around the world shifting to those designs. Beyond saving water, those ideas also reduce the amount of necessary maintenance and save energy.

Way back when, crews used to just bulldoze everything and transform an area into a course without giving thought of what that could do. Once it became clear that we could build golf courses that can involve more of the natural habitat and disturb much less of the natural environment that was already in place, I think it became obvious there was no reason to design or build courses any other way.

As a player, does it just make you happy seeing these sustainable changes?

I love seeing it, not just because I’m aware of how important clean water is, but because I’ve always liked golf courses that have a natural look to them.

The 2024 Senior PGA Championship was at Harbor Shores this year—a course developed on wetlands reclaimed from an industrial waste site. Could we see golf actually restoring the environment in cases like we find in Benton Harbor, Mich.?

I think that’s a great example of responsible course building and management. Initially, [Harbor Shores] was more a case of recycling and reclamation, but it operates now within those wetlands as a sustainable model. We can see more cases of dump sites becoming courses because you’re dealing with land that can’t really be used for much else. Once the ground is cleaned and treated, I can’t think of any better place to build a golf course because just the act of creating the venue cleans that garbage from the land.

We can now make golf courses that look like they were always supposed to be there from the beginning.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

In our 20s, my new husband and I took a year off from our fledgling careers to travel in Southeast Asia. Equipped with paper maps, we began in China and improvised each day’s “itinerary” on the go. A gap year for grown-ups, I called it, although I scarcely qualified as one.

Nearly 40 years later, we are new retirees with the same wanderlust. We wondered: Could we recapture the thrill of winging it, enduring rough roads and cheap hotels?

We could and did, but for 2½ months instead of 12. We mapped out a route that would take us up Africa’s east coast and then—who knows where? Here’s how we rolled and five important lessons we learned on a 6,000-mile trip.

Kenya: Live large by day

Our first stop was the tiny, car-free island of Lamu, well-known for its high-profile visitors, from Kate Moss to the Obamas. This low-key getaway offered white-sand beaches, dhows — boats you can rent for day cruises and snorkelling — and lots of donkeys, the main mode of transport.

We considered the beachside Peponi Hotel in Shela, a hot spot since the 1960s (Mick Jagger bunked there). But room rates start at $250, far above our per-night budget of $70 or less. When contemplating almost 100 nights of travel, price matters.

So we chose a villa in the dunes called Amani Lamu, $61 per night for an en suite room with a private terrace and shared plunge pool.
We still had a cool Peponi moment come sunset: On the hotel’s whitewashed veranda, we sipped Pepotinis and plotted our next day’s interlude at the Majlis, Lamu’s fanciest resort (from $580).

With a $20 day pass, we could lounge around its pools and beach bars like proper resort habitués.

Lesson learned: Live like billionaires by day and frugal backpackers by night.
Must-go: Across the bay on Manda Island, bunk a night in a thatched-roof bungalow on stilts at Nyla’s Guest House and Kitchen (from $48 with breakfast).
After a dinner of doro wat, a spicy Ethiopian chicken stew and rice, the sound of waves will lull you asleep.

Egypt: Ask. Politely.

From Lamu, we flew to Aswan in Egypt. Our “plan”: Cruise down the Nile to Luxor, then take a train to Cairo, and venture to Giza’s pyramids.

Turns out it’s the kind of thing one really should book in advance. But at our Aswan hostel, the proprietor, who treated us like guests deserving white-glove service, secured a felucca, a vessel manned by a navigator and captain-cum-cook.

Since we’d booked fewer than 24 hours in advance and there were no other takers, we were its sole passengers for the three-day trip.
One day, we stopped to tour ancient temples and visit a bustling camel fair, but otherwise, we remained on board watching the sunbaked desert slide by.

We slept on futons on the deck under the stars. The cost: about $100 per night per person, including three meals.

Lesson learned: Ask for help. We found Egyptians kind and unfazed by our haplessness, especially when we greeted them respectfully with assalamu alaikum (“Peace to you”).
Must-go: For buys from carpets to kebabs, don’t miss Cairo’s massive Khan el-Khalili bazaar, in business since 1382. We loved the babouche, cute leather slippers, but resisted as our packs were full.

Turkey: Heed weather reports

Next stop Tunisia, via a cheap flight on EgyptAir. We loved Tunisia, but left after six days because the weather got chilly.

Fair enough, it was January. We hopped continents by plane and landed in Istanbul, where it snowed. Fortunately, two of Istanbul’s main pleasures involve hot water. We indulged in daily hammams, or Turkish baths, ranging from $30 to $60 for services that included, variously, a massage, a scrub-down and a soak.

Beneath soaring ceilings at the temple-like Kılıç Ali Paşa Halamı, brisk workers sternly wielded linen sacks to dowse my body in a cloud of hot foam.
In between visits to Ottoman-era mosques and the city’s spice markets, we staved off the chill by drinking fruity pomegranate tea and sampling Turkish delight and baklava at tea salons.

A favourite salon: Sekerci Cafer Erol in Kadıköy, a ferry-ride away on the “Asian” side of Istanbul, where the city adjoins Asia.

Lesson learned: Pay attention to the weather gods. We foolishly took the concept of travelling off-season too far.
Must-go: Don’t miss the Istanbul Modern, the Renzo Piano-designed art museum in the historic Beyoğlu district.

Cambodia: Chill out

After a long flight from Istanbul, we spent two weeks in Laos and then hopped another plane to Cambodia, specifically Koh Rong Sanloem, another car-free island.

Like vagabonds, we lolled by the warm, super-blue water of Sunset Beach, steps from our bungalow at Sleeping Trees (from $54 per night).

A caveat: You have to sweat to get to this island paradise. We took a bus, a ferry and then hiked for 40 minutes up and down a steep hill and through a jungle. You’ll find only a handful of “resorts”—simple bungalow complexes like ours. There’s nothing much to do. I’ll be back.

Lesson learned: Until our week in Cambodia, we’d been travelling too much and too fast, prioritising exploration over relaxation. This island taught us the pleasures of stasis.
Must-go: Spend one day in Cambodia’s capital city, Phnom Penh, to delve into its sobering history. Tour the Choeung Ek Genocidal Centre, site of a Killing Field, where nearly 9,000 Cambodians died.

Thailand: Be a frugal hedonist

We spent our last two weeks on the island of Ko Samui, where season three of “The White Lotus” was shot.
We went there for its astounding beauty, not the luxury resort experience that comes with too many boisterous lads on vacation, snake farms and traffic jams in town.

Truth be told, we flouted our budget rules to book an Airbnb with a pool (from $300) in the hills of Lipa Noi on the island’s quiet side. We joined the nearby Gravity Movement Gym to work out, but cooked our own meals to keep our final tabulation of expenses within reach.

Lesson learned: Pinching pennies feels restrictive, no matter how lush the surroundings. And it leads to bickering, as partners tally up who squandered how much on what.
With the end in sight, we splurged on the villa and even bought souvenirs, knowing we’d lug them for days, not weeks.
Must-go: Take the 30-minute ferry to sister island Ko Pha Ngan for its peace, love and yoga vibe and, once a month, full-moon parties.
Via Airbnb, we bunked at a Thai house called Baan Nuit, run by the Dear Phangan restaurant proprietors.

We sampled steamed dumplings, white fish in a Thai basil sauce and spicy noodles for a mere $15 apiece.
Hey, indulge in that “White Lotus” moment if you dare!