This is the weird one for us. We were in the midst of a 6 week trip to (where else) Colorado in the summer of '97, driving backroads and visiting ghost towns, when one day, heading south from Granby (where we'd been ambushed by 3 or 4 days of rain, rain, rain) somebody saw a basket (sorta like Columbus sighting the New World, I'm not quite sure who saw it first) so we stopped and, how 'bout that, it's a course.
As for remembering the course, well, I don't. At least not particularly well. I know Todd lost a disc (a shark?) on the first hole, we're not quite sure how. I remember the last hole (which was 24, if I remember correctly) had this MONSTER headwind, probably in the 250 mph range, and as we struggle to keep our hold on the earth Todd throws this drive which turns over and g..l..i..d..e..s... f..o..r..e..v..e..r... into the distance on the other side of the road. Now, almost everything inbetween's a blur, but it doesn't much matter because I'm pretty sure this course has been plinked out of existence. A shame, there's not much better karma than finding a random course in the middle of Colorado.
My Grandma never played frisbee golf, I'm not sure what she would've thought about it but I'm pretty sure she would've have had a course of her own. Except perhaps in the mall... sort of an indoor thing like that roller coaster in Minnesota except with fewer rollers and no coaster to speak of.