In a word, this course is atrocious. The photos on the Disc Golf Course Review Media tab appear like a country club compared to what is present out there today. The course is unmaintained (except for an occasional bush-whacking of the pasture), surrounded by soggy bottomland that is covered with insects and poison ivy and undergrowth, and has the appearance that, at any moment, a leather-faced man in denim overalls with a black crow on his shoulder might run out of the trees and toss an axe at you. Although one might practice on a couple of holes, like #1, #3 and #4 (if they don't mind chasing their discs in an unmowed pasture), a player cannot even play the wooded holes if they made the foolish decision to protect their eyes, roll up their socks, and leap through the prickers to try it...it's far too overgrown on holes #5, #6, #7 to even see the basket. Those crawling into the woods, I feel confident, would never be seen or heard from again, with the local sheriff's bloodhounds finding little more than a couple of mud-covered Frisbees and an incomplete scorecard totaling 23 strokes and ending at hole #4.
It was with a mysterious anticipation that my son and I drove to LeRoy to check out this course. As the reviews here are over two years old, maybe something has been done to improve the course. Surely, I thought, the good people of LeRoy have a conscience.
It was with terrible remorse and soggy socks that we splashed our way out of the damp pasture (weather was 80F and it hadn't rained for a week) after hacking along for four holes total, skipping the inaccessible ones in the woods, and not being able to properly locate 2-3 more holes that seem to have vanished into thin air. We entered optimistically, but left feeling like a dog that had been struck on the snout with a rolled newspaper. And, like that dog, we had little idea what we had done to deserve such punishment, seemingly inflicted upon us by a difficult master who harbored a deep grudge.
It is a crying shame that the baskets are not moved by LeRoy into a more appropriate setting. With the Ledgestone Open playing courses in nearby Washington, Eureka, Peoria, etc, and much superior courses in Blo-No, just west, the LeRoy course remains, in 2016, like soiled diapers found on a neglected infant thanks to uncaring parents. If only there was a dept. of family disc golf social services to take away the baskets and give them to a warm and loving foster home; should a court order, signed by the judge, be necessary, so be it.
Perhaps--and this is a stretch--if you visited the course in the late fall, with pasture grass dead and brown, leaves off the trees, poison ivy dried up and the surrounding swamp hardened by frost, and used the most fluorescent disc you own so that it can be seen among the fallen trees, poisonous mushrooms, and fungal wood rot (and maybe a rabid possum wouldn't ramble off with your disc if it's unappetizing neon pink), you could play a full round and escape alive to tell about it. Any player who might wish to attempt this feat, though, is advised to avoid playing at dusk, when long autumn shadows can play tricks on the eyes and mind, and even the bravest golfer will drain their bladder when they come abruptly face-to-face with a frightening hobgoblin within the timbers, imagined when they suddenly run into a rusted Discatcher smack in the middle of the woods where no sane human would stick such a device.
No one can hear you scream at Leroy Disc Golf except maybe the farmer in the deserted-appearing homestead in the next field over, and something tells me that he's not going to rescue you as he's licking his chops for an excuse to plant corn and beans in this unloved and forgotten farm field, finally ridding himself of those darned city slickers who arrive with fancy bags full of plastic Wham-o "pie tins" and who get their Saabs stuck in the mud.
Summary: I would not play this course if I lived in a treehouse in the woods alongside it, let alone drive to it from any surrounding town.