Cabot Citrus Farms: A Getaway for the Next Generation of Golf
A father-son outing of golf and target games at the new Cabot Citrus Farms in Brooksville showcases the latest in Florida's sporting hospitality.
Spring break had just started, and my son was looking forward to sleeping in until noon and playing video games with his friends. Leo is 17 and will soon be leaving our nest in St. Petersburg, a sobering reality that’s already chipping away at my heart. He surprised me in agreeing to wake up at 8 a.m. to accompany me to Cabot Citrus Farms, a much-hyped, recently opened golf resort in Brooksville, located on Florida’s Nature Coast and just an hour north of our home. My stealthy goal was to savor a little father-son bonding time, but I think what sold him on the excursion was the opportunity to fire a gun, though he wanted reassurance on the golf part.
“I don’t really know how to golf, Dad, and neither do you,” he reminded me.
He had a point. Although I love watching the sport on television, my golf resume is a blank slate—besides once sacrilegiously spraying balls around the driving range adjacent to the hallowed Old Course in St. Andrews, Scotland. I reassured Leo that Cabot Citrus Farms also offers activities more in his sweet spot, such as clay pigeon shooting, archery, ax throwing and fishing. I even convinced him to ditch his trademark HeyDude shoes, which would make our golf illiteracy apparent.
Mike Johnston, the resort’s director of golf, greeted us outside the pro shop on a freakishly blustery Monday morning in March. He introduced us to Rick Kelso, the director of operations and community at the resort and a PGA golf professional who offered to give us a tour of the place. “Rick’s been here since the very beginning back in 1991, so he’ll explain everything,” Johnston said.
We hopped on a golf cart at Karoo, a top-rated 18-hole course. Named after the call made by sandhill cranes, the course features split fairways, huge contoured greens and an abundance of vast no-rake bunkers.
Kelso, a single dad who lost his wife, Aimee, to breast cancer five years ago, detailed his story along the way. An Ohio native, Kelso was hired by Japanese businessman Yukihisa Inoue in 1991 to be the golf director of World Woods, the original golf resort built on the grounds where we were now whipping around in the teeth of 30-40 mph wind gusts. It sounded like a dream job—Kelso even got to train in Japan for several months before the place opened. And for a while, it was. Golf Digest rated World Woods’s Pine Barrens course one of America’s 100 greatest courses, and other accolades arrived from golfers who likened it to Oregon’s famous Bandon Dunes course. But as Japan’s real estate bubble burst in the ’90s, Inoue stopped putting money into the resort. World Woods gradually became a bit like a neglected British estate owned by unemployed aristocrats unable to afford the upkeep.
Fewer young golfers are joining country clubs. Instead, they’re coming to bucket-list clubs like ours because they prioritize experiences.
—Rick Kelso
Cabot, a Canadian company that specializes in luxury golf resorts with roots embedded in Nova Scotia’s Cabot Trail, tried to buy World Woods in 2014 and 2016. The answer was always no until the COVID-19 pandemic, when Inoue finally decided to sell. The resort marked Cabot’s first in America; their other properties are in Nova Scotia, St. Lucia, British Columbia, Scotland, Norway and France.
“You don’t find this in Florida,” Kelso said, waving his left hand at a wide-open, pastoral landscape of rolling hills and sand traps aplenty. “All the sand, the native grass, the elevation changes. It’s more reminiscent of the Carolinas than Florida.”
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This is Florida?
The 1,200-acre property has been completely redesigned with an adventure golf ethos that’s unconventional yet traditional. Outside of the steamy summer season, carts can only be used for golfers with medical needs because Cabot wants players to slow down and savor every bit of the course. Golfers can choose to play on either of the resort’s two 18-hole courses. Besides Karoo, there’s also Roost, a hilly gem named after the wild turkeys that roost under the property’s moss-covered oak trees. Both are bucket-list courses that could one day host PGA events. Meanwhile, the two shorter courses nod to the next generation and the future of the sport. The nine-hole Squeeze is a fun course full of challenges and surprises, while The Wedge is a lit 11-hole beauty open until 11 p.m. with rollicking music piped in along the course.
As we barreled over a hill on Roost, we passed a foursome that appeared to be two married couples in their 50s or 60s. “Hey guys, how’d you get the girls out of school this week?” Kelso asked with a conspiratorial smile. The two women busted up laughing, and one of them said, “We’re on spring break!”
“My job here is to make this place like the bar in ‘Cheers,’” Kelso told us, referencing the television show about the convivial pub in Boston where “everybody knows your name.”
Indeed, as we motored around the clusters of handsome white cottages—all sold, but priced between $1.8 and $3.7 million—many of the guests we passed greeted Kelso by name. “Does anyone live in these houses?” I asked. “Nope,” he said. “The owners rent them out.”
Cabot Citrus Farms is a destination resort aimed at an affluent demographic. A tee time on Karoo or Roost costs $395 per person during peak golf season, plus caddy fees and tip. But The Squeeze is only $125, and The Wedge is just $75. Guests have the option of staying in either a two-bedroom or four-bedroom cottage. With high-end furnishings and chef’s kitchens that appear straight out of Architectural Digest, the pet-friendly accommodations run $1,250-to-$1,500 per night for a two-bedroom, while four-bedroom units range from $2,500-to-$3,000. Kelso says that business is good, though it remains to be seen if there will be a dent in their important Canadian clientele following President Donald Trump’s imposition of tariffs on their country and jokes about making Canada our 51st state. “Fewer young golfers are joining country clubs,” Kelso said. “Instead, they’re coming to bucket-list clubs like ours because they prioritize experiences.”
To that end, Grant Horvat and Garrett Clark, Gen Z golf YouTubers with millions of followers, recently played Roost. They raved about the courses and the resort’s little touches, like the comfy couches set up next to the greens and the freshly baked citrus sugar cookies from Brooksville’s Bread Box Bakery offered to golfers before teeing off. (Each Cabot resort has special cookies—in Scotland, they are shortbread; in St. Lucia, a woman bakes chocolate chip cookies in her home using local cacao; and Cape Breton serves Cracker Jack cookies.)
“This is beautiful. You don’t feel like you’re in Florida,” said Clark, who shot a 70 on the course. “It’s its own thing. I feel like I’ve never seen a course look like this. When you tee off, you see so much.” Accolades have also poured in for Karoo from other heavy hitters in the golf world. Golf Magazine lists it as the #32 course in their top 100 golf courses feature. Rick Shiels, a British golf influencer who has nearly 3 million subscribers on YouTube, called Karoo the best new golf course in America, while Golf Digest named it one of their most anticipated new courses of the year in 2024. The Athletic said Karoo “puts a smile on your face … and widens your eyes at every tee box for its daring nature.”
Food and beverage options are set to expand with the impending opening of Grange Hall, an elevated casual dining restaurant, but there’s already a cafe, a cantina with tacos and tequila and The Porch, a truck-turned-pizza oven. The oven serves unique wood-fired pizza options like the Figgy Piggy, which uses a fig bacon jam as its base and is topped with soppressata, pepperoni, prosciutto and fingerling potato chips. At the comfort station on Karoo, golfers can buy high-end cigars along with Cabot-branded craft beers and cocktails and enjoy them in comfy rocking chairs overlooking the course. Also nearby is a tennis court and two pickleball courts. The resort plans to open additional courts, along with adult and family pool areas, later in 2025.
Every day, I find new trees and fruits out here I never even knew about.
—Kyle Goodwin
We tested our golf “skills” at the resort’s TrackMan driving range, which allows golfers to virtually play famous courses like Pebble Beach in California and the Old Course at St. Andrews and provides stats on carry distance, total distance, ball speed and other metrics. I quickly learned to ignore my results on the screen when I shanked balls, which was depressingly often in the howling wind. Occasionally—very occasionally, if I’m being honest—one of us would hit a nice shot, and Kelso would praise us as if we were legit golfers. “Look at that one!” he’d say.
Our luck wasn’t much better at the undulating, lit putting course, though it was fun trying to putt up and over the waves of giant green hills. Rather than defile the courses and delay serious golfers on a blustery day with any more of our duff golfing skills, we elected to try our luck at clay pigeon shooting—something Leo was stoked for. Kelso introduced us to Cabot Citrus Farms’ recreation manager, Kyle Goodwin—a gregarious, bearded man of 32 who looks younger. The resort borders the Withlacoochee State Forest, which means construction around the area is limited. As we found out as we bounced along on muddy tracks through the forest on an ATV, much of the surrounding acreage is still delightfully undeveloped.
Goodwin grew up on a cattle farm five minutes away, moved away for a spell, and was happy to have an opportunity to return to his hometown when Cabot Citrus Farms opened last year. He told us that Elvis Presley spent time in the area while filming the movie “Follow That Dream” in nearby Inverness in 1961. The owners of the nearby Coney Island Drive Inn still brag about how The King once ate a foot-long hot dog there. “And my great-great grandfather used to go fishing with Babe Ruth when he used to come here for spring training,” he said. Passing a man-made lake, Goodwin told us, “One of our guests caught a 9-pound bass in there last week.”
Goodwin spotted a bunch of muscadine grapes and pulled over to pick some. “So delicious,” he said, popping one in his mouth and handing us a few. “Don’t we have to wash them?” I asked. “Oh, you can, but I don’t,” he said. “That’s just how I was raised.” They were a little too tart for me—but not bad. The wind finally died down as we wound our way through the woods. Goodwin told us there would soon be tangerines and blackberries to pick. “Every day, I find new trees and fruits out here I never even knew about,” he said.
A Sure-Fire Day
We arrived at a clearing in the woods where the resort has built what is essentially an adult/teen playground where guests can compete in what Goodwin calls the “Cabot Olympics.” Goodwin gave us some instructions, handed my son a heavy 12-gauge Berretta shotgun and explained that he’d launch yellow, saucer-shaped clay pigeons from five different targets of varying directions using a remote control.
I grew up in the suburbs of Buffalo, N.Y., and I’d never fired a gun in my life. Leo tried target shooting on a stationary board once before at summer camp, and when I asked how he did, he said, “Not bad, I guess.”
The first saucer flew out from the woods, starting in a high arc and dropping quickly toward us across the cobalt sky. BANG!
Leo shattered it on his first shot. Goodwin hollered in celebration and surprise and then launched another. BANG!
Once again, Leo shattered the target as if he’d been shooting his whole life. “Two for two!” Goodwin hollered. “Oh my goodness, you might be the next Chris Kyle,” he added, referencing the famous Navy SEAL sniper with 160 confirmed kills.
I watched as Leo blasted targets from all five directions—coming at us, going away from us, bouncing off the ground; you name it, and he shot it. Here was a talent I knew nothing about. Who was this skinny kid with the big gun? When it was my turn, I appreciated Leo’s marksmanship even more. I didn’t hit a single target and gave up after a few shots because I wanted to see Leo obliterate more yellow pucks.
As we moved over to the archery targets, Goodwin told us the place is popular with bachelor and bachelorette party groups—at least, among those who prioritize games over strippers. “Here’s where we build bonfires,” he said. “It’s so dark out here at night, you can really see the stars.” Goodwin said that he’s essentially on call 24 hours a day and comes out to this clearing to build bonfires whenever guests want one.
“So, if a guest wants a bonfire, they call you late at night and you’ve got to come back to work?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t mind at all,” he said, clearly meaning it.
Leo was almost as good at archery as he was at shooting, beating me 7-to-3 in our competition. He had a hard time getting the hang of the ax throwing, and I managed to beat him, 21-to-16. My victory prompted Goodwin to comment: “At least you didn’t get shut out, Dad.”I sat in an Adirondack chair watching Leo practice, flinging every ax Goodwin had on hand—first with one hand, then with two over his head, which worked better for him. The warm rays of the sun felt like manna from heaven after an icebox of a morning. I wanted to sit there forever, hanging onto the moment and my son, the sharpshooter, who is growing up much too fast.
