“You’ve done a lot of traveling, especiall across the west. Given the company you keep and lifestyle you have had, we were wondering if you ever came across Hunter Thompson back in those days?”

Chains McGraw: “Ah, yes, Dr. Gonzo, what a character he was. Let me take you back to the ’80s, a time of wild debauchery and even wilder disc golfing adventures. Hunter and I found ourselves on a road trip through the Pacific Northwest, chasing the elusive ace and living life to the fullest.

One particularly memorable moment occurred when we stumbled upon a hidden gem of a course in the heart of the Oregon wilderness. It was a treacherous hike through dense forests and steep hills, but we were determined to play this course that was rumored to be a disc golfer’s paradise.

As we made our way up the final hill, we were met with the most stunning view we had ever seen. The course was perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a sprawling valley that seemed to go on forever. It was like the disc golf gods had created this place just for us.

We quickly set up camp and spent the next few days playing round after round on this epic course. Hunter was in top form, sinking aces left and right, and I was keeping pace with him the best I could (in every way imaginable).

But the real highlight of our time there was the night we spent partying with the local disc golf community. They had set up a makeshift bar in the middle of the course, complete with a DJ spinning vinyl and a bonfire raging in the background.

We danced and drank and swapped disc golf stories with the locals until the wee hours of the morning. Hunter even made a bet with one of the locals that he could sink an ace blindfolded, and much to our surprise (and the local’s chagrin), he actually did it. That crazy bastard spins around out of his chair and pirouettes majestically into the blindfold as he steps onto the teepad, tying the blindfold behind his head, all in one motion as his cigarette performs a smoke dance, appearing to be wired to his jaw. A tai chi master, launching his disc into the metal heart of the basket, and we all erupted with cheers and applause. Even the local who lost the bet was right there in the thick of it, with his fist full of cash, slapping into Hunter’s hand in disbelief.

That night was one for the ages, and Hunter and I actually reminisced about it the last time we spoke before he passed. It was a reminder that disc golf isn’t just a sport, it’s a way of life, and the experiences you have on the road with your fellow disc golfers are what make it all worth it.”