Charting a golf course through old-growth forest that doubles as a wildlife and nature preserve can be a daunting task, particularly at Palmetto Bluff where each stand of trees is riddled with the towering, photogenic Live Oaks that have made the Lowcountry so endearing to naturalists. When Jack Nicklaus and his design team were brought in to negotiate these landscapes with a certain sensitively, it was hoped that the game’s legend would bring the same deliberate and thoughtful nature of his game and character to the pristine wilderness of Palmetto Bluff. A single tour of the course confirms the construction of the course with a gentle hand. Subtle landscape fluctuations, bunkering, and contours all flow naturally with the preexisting land. As my caddie, a Lowcountry local who had grown up playing courses in the area, pointed out to me while I loosened up on the range, “you’ll find it hard to believe that the course was built only a couple of years ago.”

Indeed, from the opening hole, which heads out between two stands of dense old-growth forest and offers no harbinger of the exciting marshland holes to come, there is no sense of the imposition of man’s hand on the land. Bunkers are built into soft knolls that continue on into the woods, indicative of a concerted effort to meld the game’s tableau with the larger Palmetto Bluff canvas. The bunkering theme throughout the course, prevalent in the first bunker seen, a large trap to the right of the first fairway, seem to take on the character of the foliage on the massive oaks that cover the property; pillowy, rugged shapes carved into the hollows of the landscape.

The wetlands, among the world’s most productive ecosystems, are ubiquitous throughout the course, and their sight, along with that of great blue herons and the sounds of the their  amphibious residents, first come into view at the par-three second, which plays from a tee behind a fertile bog to a crowned green that falls off on all sides. At 206 yards from the championship tee, holding this green is a feat in itself; navigating its sloping contours with two or less putts makes a par that much more impressive.

There are several standout holes on the front nine, and throughout May River, it is the par fives that are the most impressive. The first of these, the 565-yard par five fourth, is a double dogleg hole where the drive should be fitted left of a gaping fairway bunker that will force a short lay-up.

The second shot needs to be fitted as close as possible to a similar bunker on the left side, 100 yards short of the green, to allow for a clear wedge between two oaks to a small green with a false front.

If golfers start well, the sixth and seventh can still easily derail a good nine, as both holes require cautious navigation through dense wetlands to greens perched on small hills of land. Misses are severely punished here, though the eighth, a soft dogleg left that can be reached by longer hitters, offers a good chance at birdie to redeem at least one lost shot.

The back nine opens with what I believe to be one of South Carolina’s best par fives. The broad fairway is pinched by three fairway bunkers, but with a tailwind, an aggressive drive can carry the trouble and leave an easy carry over the marshland toward the green. If the drive is missed, though, or if playing into a strong coastal headwind, second shots are usually short of the marsh, leaving a 175-yard third shot to a green set on a small bank just above the May River delta.

13 and 14 offer similarly stunning vistas of the namesake inland waterway. The former, a short par four, plays to an obliquely sloped and elevated green that is fronted by three very deep bunkers, beseeching players to take an extra club and avoid the hardship. The latter, a consummate signature hole on a course that has several, is a gorgeous and terrifying par three that plays over more wetlands to a small target on a peninsula. During high tide, the rising waters in the wetlands tend to make the shot even more ominous.

Nicklaus’ designs have always put an emphasis on a challenging finish, and the last holes at May River are no exception. Fair to the golfer who is playing well, the par-four 16^th requires a trademark Nicklausian middle or long iron to hold a small green that falls off on all sides. Making par from off this green is likely the toughest up-and-down on the course. The 17^th, a 234-yard par three that welcomes the evasive high draw with a fairway wood or long iron, is the most difficult par on the course, and the 18^th, a strong risk-reward par five with water down the left and a century-old oak beside the green, will reward three great shots with a fair birdie chance, and perhaps the chance for a small celebration in front of a scattered few golfers who may be lunching on the clubhouse terrace. That clubhouse, with a special roofing that will fade over time to blend with the natural foliage that surrounds it, offers a perfect closing photograph for a classic new course that embraces its natural environment as very few do.