DAYBREAK
AT THE
MASTERS
capturing augusta before the gates open
photographs + text by alan p. pittman
▶ some of my fondest
memories of the Masters don’t
involve what goes on between
the ropes. As a credentialed
photographer, I’m allowed to
roam the course at dawn—
about 15 to 30 minutes
before the gates open to the
public. On the best of these
mornings, there’s a layer of
fog that’s just beginning to
lift as I enter the grounds.
The grass unfolds like an
emerald carpet, as beautiful
and pristine as you’ve been
told. The only markings are
the footprints and geometric
patterns formed in the dew
by the grounds crew’s final
preparations. The morning’s
first light cuts through the
haze, casting ribbons of pale
gold across the humps and
swells of the tee boxes and
fairways. I have only minutes
to make a few photographs
before thousands of electrified
patrons stream onto the
grounds, so I don’t venture
very far. Instead, I concentrate
on a few of my favorite scenes:
the architectural beauty of the
Southern-style clubhouse and
its wraparound second-story
porch, windows and lights
aglow in the morning mist,
the green-and-white
umbrellas symmetrically
arranged outside, and one
of the giant live oaks that
predate the tournament.
It’s remarkably serene and
impossible not to reflect on
the game’s legends who have
walked where I now walk.
In the stillness, it’s just me,
my camera and 85 years
of Masters history. ▶
issue 4. 2020 | golf digest 101
