A few years ago I got my chance, and on one glorious weekend I played Pebble, Spyglass, and the Links at Spanish Bay. All three courses are managed by the Pebble Beach Company, but at the time I’d forgotten about the fourth course in the fold, Del Monte Golf Course, the granddaddy of them all just a few miles inland.

It turns out that Del Monte is the oldest continuously operating golf course west of the Mississippi River. San Francisco’s Presidio Golf Course is older, by a little more than a year, but it was closed during the Spanish-American War of 1898 to serve as a drill field. Del Monte was built as an attraction for the Hotel Del Monte, which later joined the navy (literally) and is now the headquarters of the Naval Postgraduate School. Now the golf course is connected to the Hyatt Regency Monterey Hotel & Spa.

When I say connected, I mean that just about literally. The 17th green is so close to the lobby windows I was hesitant to stand by them when looking around the place on arrival. Just about every golfer who’s swung a club can overshoot a green by ten yards, and that’s about all it would take to plunk one off the plate glass windows.

But that’s part of the appeal, of course. The hotel nestles up to 17 and a portion of the 18th fairway, so you know you’re staying on the golf course, and because it’s a hotel “& Spa” there’s enough there to interest non-golfers.

The course is stately and beautiful, as you’d expect from a course with its pedigree. Towering Monterey pines and broad oaks line the fairways, often poking into fairways and challenging you to clear them to cut distance on doglegs. Many of the holes seem easy, but few of them are.

The greens are small, there’s plenty of sand protecting greens and in fairway bunkers, and for me, reaching the green was never a guarantee of par. They’re hard to read with lots of slope, and fast enough to bedevil the occasional golfer like me.

And I like this about Del Monte: it’s a favorite course for locals. If you come without your golf buddies you can join up with locals who’ll share their course knowledge, tell you how best to make your way around. That only goes so far, naturally; you’ve still got to hit the ball and put it in the hole. But the camaraderie is always welcome. And by Monterey standards, the place is affordable. Greens fees are about one-fifth the cost of a round at Pebble.

So nobody dreams about playing Del Monte, they dream of Pebble. But now I do. Locals say the course is subtle, and it takes time and repeated play to understand its character. I know I only got a whiff of those subtleties, and the course got the best of me. But I’ve been thinking about the shots I didn’t make, and I want another chance. I’ll be back. It’s the perfect weekend away.

But I live in San Francisco and can be on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe in less than four hours. Lake Tahoe, the place with more ski resorts and ski acreage than any region in the USA, plus the glorious spectacle of the lake from many peaks. Why run off to Utah, or Jackson Hole, Wyoming, or Big Sky, Montana, or Vail or Aspen or Whistler, BC when I live so close to such a winter wonderland?

One reason this winter was the pitiful snowfall in the Sierra. Another was a group of friends from college days who wanted to meet there for a reunion. So, with tickets booked far in advance, I had powder dreams reminiscent of Warren Miller films and couldn’t wait to get going.

As all skiers know, little snow has fallen throughout the West this season. It’s picked up in recent weeks (in fact, Jackson Hole reports snow every day over the last 20 days of February, with 3 feet in the last week; and 5 feet of snow fell at Lake Tahoe this week, so winter’s best weekend is about to start), but when we headed out mid February, Utah had almost as little snow as California. It seemed that our reunion would be more hanging about the hot tub than schussing down ski runs. But did that matter? Wasn’t the point to get together with a group of great friends who hadn’t seen each other in years?

Yes and no. We also wanted to ski. We had a palatial house (honestly, palatial doesn’t do it justice, it was too vast for that) in the hills above town where we had to yodel to locate each other in the far bedrooms. But once found, we all gathered in the kitchen and living room for fine meals and conversation. We drank too much wine, caught up on the years, and plotted our days on the slopes.

And those days weren’t bad. Park City made it easy. For those of us who needed rental equipment, the Ski Butlers delivered it to our door. Park City Resort was a short drive away. Deer Valley a little farther, and The Canyons pretty close. While thin in places, snow on the groomed runs was dry, workable. Skiing was surprisingly good. And the biggest surprise of all, after skiing we stopped for a beverage and snack at Baja Cantina at Park City Resort, where a generous margarita cost $2.75! A bucket of ice jammed with four Coronas cost $10! Was this a throwback to our college days put on just for us?

Drinks at Deer Valley the next day weren’t as affordable, but hey, that’s what we expected. The skiing was just as good, and we were happy.

Overnight before our last ski day it snowed an inch, and by the time we headed for The Canyons, about three inches had accumulated. Most of the day we skied in snowfall so visibility was tough, but a foot of fresh snow greeted us on many runs and I began to get a sense of why Utah has the reputation it does.

But I’ll have to go back another time, in a more normal season, when the base is deep and the sun is shining. The good thing for people like me who live in or around San Francisco: flying to Salt Lake City takes less than two hours, the drive to Park City is less than an hour, and there are plenty of options for lodging. It’s pretty accessible, and despite my bias for Lake Tahoe, I’ll try Utah again.

Next time I’ll book closer to traveling so I can get better snow. Trouble is, my buddies won’t be there, unless I can convince them to drop everything and join me. Which, if the conditions are right, they might be happy to do.