Connecticut shoreline golf with teeth. Black Hall sits where the Connecticut River meets Long Island Sound. Salt air cuts into every shot. Old New England golf. No flash. No gimmicks. Eighteen holes that demand you think your way around. Locals have walked here for generations. Out-of-towners wonder why they drove past it for years. Walking works. The terrain cooperates. The pace allows it. The routing rewards those who stay on their feet. You get the private-club feel on a public course.
