While most of the golf world had its eyes locked on Matt Fitzpatrick fending off Scottie Scheffler at the RBC Heritage, something just as memorable—maybe even more so—was unfolding quietly across the Calibogue Sound.
A short ferry ride away sits Haig Point on Daufuskie Island, a place that feels like it exists in its own rhythm. The moment you step off the dock, everything changes. The noise fades. The pace slows. Life, as you know it, hits pause. It’s the kind of calm you don’t realize you’ve been missing until it finds you.
Calling this a “work trip” feels like a stretch. Yes, Jonathan and I were invited by Haig Point’s CEO, Don Hunter—but what we experienced went far beyond anything that resembles work. Don and his team don’t just understand Southern hospitality—they define it. Our assignment was simple: take it all in and see what life at Haig Point looks like during one of the biggest golf weekends of the year.
We dropped our bags at a stunning Plantation Home and wasted no time hopping on the Haig Point water taxi bound for Harbor Town. After catching up with a few familiar faces at the tournament, we made our way to the Haig Point skybox overlooking the 17th green. From there, the afternoon unfolded effortlessly—great food, cold drinks, and front-row seats to the kind of golf shots we all think we’re capable of (until we’re reminded otherwise).
But if the golf was the backdrop, the community was the main event.
That became crystal clear Friday and Saturday night. Haig Point hosted a Lowcountry Party and Oyster Roast that felt less like an event and more like a tradition you somehow stumbled into at just the right time. Live music filled the air, kids danced barefoot in the sand, and conversations flowed as easily as the drinks. Strangers became fast friends, bonded over shared stories and a mutual appreciation for where we were.
Saturday morning brought a different kind of magic.
Coffee and a croissant from the Strachan Mansion in hand, I eased into the day from the back porch of our cottage. No rush. No noise. Just the kind of quiet that makes you sit a little longer and breathe a little deeper.
Later that afternoon, we finally teed it up.
The Rees Jones-designed course at Haig Point doesn’t try to overwhelm you—it invites you in. It’s thoughtful without being complicated, beautiful without feeling forced. The routing flows naturally, each hole offering something new without ever breaking the rhythm. Tree-lined fairways demand creativity, marsh views appear at just the right moments, and the coastal breeze keeps you honest. It’s the kind of course that reminds you why you fell in love with golf in the first place.
And just like that, the weekend was over.
Maybe it was the contrast—the buzz of a PGA Tour event just across the water versus the quiet charm of Haig Point. Maybe it was the timing. Or maybe it’s simply that Haig Point offers something increasingly hard to find: the feeling that you’ve discovered something special, even if it’s been there all along.
For a first visit, it couldn’t have been better.
“Paradise Across the Sound” isn’t just a tagline—it’s exactly right.
And if you’re anything like me, one trip won’t be enough.