Written & Photographed by Troy Knight
What happens when you take an old gravel pit next to the Puget Sound and decide to build a cathedral for golf junkies? You get Chambers Bay—a place that doesn’t so much look designed as summoned into existence by someone who knows that beauty doesn’t have to be polite.
I’ve been chasing Chambers Bay for a long time. Way back when I first started playing, it was already on my bucket list. This was before the 2015 U.S. Open made it famous, before all the hand-wringing over crusty greens and angry pros. Part of it was curiosity. Part of it was that my family lived just a few minutes away. I’d never seen anything like it—a giant sandbox sculpted into fairways and dunes, perched above the Sound, looking like Scotland crash-landed on the Washington coast.
Then fate intervened. Work dragged me to the area in August of 2015. As soon as that trip was on the books, I booked my first tee time. Six weeks after the Open circus packed up and left, the fairways were still hard as parking lots, and the greens were in the middle of healing their wounds. It wasn’t pristine. And that’s exactly why I loved it.
The scars were there—visible proof of a U.S. Open that pushed the place to its limits. But those scars felt like relics, reminders of Jordan Spieth’s win. Monuments to a week when the golf world came here and tried to bend the course to its will. Chambers fought back. And standing out there, soaking in the breeze off the water, it felt like I was playing through a piece of history. It instantly became my favorite golf course on earth.
In the years since, I’ve been back plenty of times. My brother and my parents moved up from L.A. to Tacoma, so family trips turned into excuses for more loops at Chambers. I’ve chased sunsets there on still, perfect days. Walked unforgettable rounds with my cousin the day before his wedding, talking about life’s big chapters while we hacked it all over the place and laughed at ourselves. I’ve played there with my dad in a rainstorm so biblical it felt like the rain was shooting up from the ground instead of falling from the sky. The greens, despite the sandy base, were drowning in puddles. And still, we kept going. Because you don’t quit at Chambers.
Every time I’m there, I fall a little deeper under its spell.
A golf course should punch you in the gut and whisper sweet nothings in your ear at the same time. Chambers Bay does that for me.
First, it’s walking only. And that matters. You feel connected to the ground under your feet, to the wind, to the other sickos out there who willingly signed up for a long hike with clubs. You know everyone out there showed up because they believe this place is special.
And the golf itself? The shot values are off the charts. Every hole stands there like a bouncer, demanding to see your ID and ask what you’re doing in its neighborhood. And the beauty of it is, there’s no single right answer. You can bump it along the ground, fly it in high, bank it off a slope, or pray for a lucky bounce. The challenge never feels cruel. Just relentless.
The visuals never stop. One moment you’re standing on a tee looking out at the Sound, the water glowing under streaks of light. The next, you’re tucked into a hollow that feels like a secret corner of Ireland. Fescue shivers in the breeze. Bunkers leer at you from across the fairway, daring you to try.
And the land itself—there’s movement, ripples, flaws, lumps that catch the light and turn the whole course into a living sculpture. As a photographer, I’m powerless. Chambers Bay is a supermodel that knows it’s stunning and won’t let you put the camera away. The place does the heavy lifting—it’s beautiful even when the light’s garbage. As long as you’re willing to haul your gear, you’ll leave with something worth framing.
Chambers Bay is mine. It’s my favorite course, not because it’s the most famous, or the most manicured, but because of the memories burned into it. Because it’s accessible, and honest, and because it tests you without breaking your soul. Every time my plane lifts off from SeaTac, all I can think about is coming back.
I’ve played places with more prestige, with bigger names and shinier reputations. But nothing feels like my home away from home the way Chambers Bay does.
And I suspect it always will.
Images from The Chambers Bay Collection by Troy Knight are available for license. Click here ->
