Are Bethel’s trails disc golf territory?
In springtime, wooded areas around campus become overrun by disc golfers. Without proper signage, injuries could ensue.
By Katelyn Rentschler | Freelance Reporter
Dan Bounds picked up a disc from the snow and wiped off the slush with his towel. He needed a good grip. He drew the disc toward his chest, lurched forward and sent it flying. It was 30 degrees at the Kaposia Disc Golf Course in St. Paul, and his fingers numbed at the edges. Bounds recovered the disc and readied himself to throw again. This time he could make it to the basket. Breathing in and out, hot vapor mixing with cool air.
Wind up. Swing. Release.
Something wasn’t right, his back hurt. Maybe he pulled something.
He proceeded to play more holes, but before the round was over, he could no longer walk.
As soon as the snow melts, disc golfers, walkers and hammockers alike populate Bethel University’s wooded paths. The 247 acres of land stretching across campus draws in prospective students as well as non-student disc golf enthusiasts. Local groups will even rent the course for tournaments at a cost of around $200 per day. The crowded trails give rise to unofficial turf wars and with that, the chance of injury via flying disc.
Bounds was diagnosed with Bone Marrow Edema of the spine — an accumulation of fluid in the bone marrow — during his freshman year at Bethel. Recovery, the doctors told him, would be short, just a few months. Soon he could compete in tournaments again as a player sponsored by companies such as Prodigy Disc and Albatross, working towards his goal of going professional. But as X-rays, MRI’s, physical therapy sessions, chiropractor appointments and steroid injections came and went, he realized the trail to recovery was longer and more challenging than he had anticipated.
Now a junior relational communications major, he’s still not fully healed.
Even with the residual effects of his injury present, Bounds began competing again. It was taking more throws to complete his rounds, leading him to place lower in tournaments.
“I didn’t feel that I should be performing that much worse,” Bounds said. “And that was definitely hard because I felt like I just got a pretty big sponsorship.”
Hoping to get receive treatment this summer at the Orthopedic Insititute in South Dakota, Bounds has committed to staying positive, and from time to time plays a game with his friends David Carlson and Trevin Schmidt, engineering students. Bethel, according to the largest online directory of disc golf courses, Udisc, boasts the third-best college campus disc golf course in the country.
“A lot of times some people don’t know how the holes work, so they don’t know they’re in a bad spot.” — Dan Bounds
The paths are dense with both trees and people blocking the baskets.
“A lot of times some people don’t know how the holes work, so they don’t know they’re in a bad spot,” Bounds said.
People like senior Dakota Burton. As a freshman, Burton walked around campus, exploring the grounds. She enjoys listening to music through her earbuds. Walking paired with the songs of MercyMe, Casting Crowns, Toby Mac and the Amazing Devils helps her de-stress. She cut through a gorge of pine trees across from the Scandia Chapel parking lot.
At the intersection between grass and pavement, Burton’s eyes caught sight of a rogue disc, driving itself mid-air, four feet from her head.
“I was kind of freaked out,” Burton said.
She had no idea she had cut through the disc golf course’s second hole. Had no idea how dangerous it was.
On Udisc, reviewers have berated Bethel for its course’s unclear signage.
Bounds agrees clearer signage is needed. He emphasizes the importance of educating walkers, hammockers and campus residents of the holes’ locations and which areas are safe to be in.
“The same thing goes for the disc golfers,” Bounds said. “Being aware that these are students that have no idea what’s going on.”
“It was dangerous. It was really dangerous.” — Jim Beilby
Senior Emily Trussel knows exactly what’s going on. Flying discs have narrowly avoided her on two occasions during her daily walks.
Trussel laid out, sunbathing, May 8 book in hand on a burgundy blanket behind North Village. Her chacos had been kicked off near the blanket’s edge. A group of three student disc golfers from another college approached.
Trussel’s blanket sat directly in front of hole seven. She wasn’t oblivious. The basket was right in her line of sight, perched a couple feet in front of her on Lake Valentine’s shoreline.
When the off-campus disc golfers saw Trussel’s form, lounging on her blanket, they threw anyway, confident that she was low enough to the ground to avoid an accident.
Discs whizzed over her head, quick as whips.
“If we sucked, we would have hit her,” one of the group members said afterwards.
Co-designer of Bethel’s disc golf course and theology professor Jim Beilby insists walkers and non-disc-golfers always have the right of way.
“Any disc golfer that won’t say that should be banned from the sport,” Beilby said.
The course was designed with the principle of safety in mind. At some holes, multiple starting positions known as ‘pins’ are offered for the purpose of preventing accidents should a walker or hammocker obstruct someone’s throw.
Before Beilby and Bethel’s Head of Grounds, Josh Girth, designed the current disc golf course, a separate, student-made one existed. The course, Beliby said, extended over sidewalks. Even parking lots, with discs hitting cars.
“It was dangerous. It was really dangerous,” Beilby said.
In 2005, Beliby and Girth made their first proposal for an official disc golf course. They hoped it would curb the string of disc-related injuries and damages. And of course, in their passion for the game, they aimed to create a course challenging for the seasoned player and fun for the beginner.
Bounds shares their sentiments. He feels the course and its trails should be open to the beginning and experienced disc golfers along with students simply wanting to enjoy the outdoors.
“I want people to enjoy the beautiful scenery Bethel has, but there’s got to be some kind of, I don’t know, happy medium,” Bounds said.
