The Masters: An experience unlike any other

The bright azaleas, the beautiful flowering trees, and the towering Georgia Pines.

The immaculate fairways, the perfectly raked and groomed bunkers, and the iconic images of the bridges crossing Rae's Creek at Amen Corner.

The polite acknowledgment from the golfers as fans address them, and the up-close-and-personal views of their swings as they tackle the challenges of Augusta National Golf Club.

The sounds of the golfers' drives from those tee boxes tucked into an intimate notch in the course, the patrons' collective moans when a shot just misses and the thunderous roars from 2-3 holes away as a player makes a Sunday charge.

You can see and hear much of that while watching the television coverage from the comfort of your couch. Trust me when I tell you that TV absolutely does not do it justice.

Taking my first steps onto the historic golf club Sunday morning with Natalie, I thought I was prepared for the beauty of it all. The biggest surprises, perhaps, were observing the massive size of the facility, and of the crowd. Standing near the clubhouse allows you to see so much of the grounds to fully appreciate the size.

But my most memorable part of this trip is not anything visual. No, those roars in the distance are what will stick with me more than anything else. For an hour or so, we were perched in the grandstands overlooking the No. 13 green -- the conclusion to Amen Corner -- and the No. 14 tee, watching the final groups come through. And twice while sitting there watching the likes of Rickie Fowler, Rory McIlroy and Patrick Reed, we heard crowd explosions off in the distance.

After the first roar, another patron -- that's what Augusta National officials call their guests at this prestigious tournament, not fans -- smiled and said, "Spieth must have birdied." Sure enough, in the next minute or so, the leaderboard updated to show that Jordan Spieth's score had improved by one stroke.

The sound is just so different than the cheers you hear at other sporting events. It does not compare to the celebration of a game-winning home run, a last-second touchdown pass or a daring pass into a turn as cars race to the checkered flag. The sound at Augusta is calm and quiet, with some mild polite claps mixed in. And then suddenly, unexpectedly, the cheers electrify the course in a booming way, rattling their way up through the glorious pines.

That's my No. 1 takeaway from a day I'll never forget. A day made possible by my brother was full of all the things we thought we were supposed to do. While we were inside the gates of August National, we got good looks at Amen Corner. We ate pimento cheese sandwiches. We latched onto some spots right up against the ropes to get within 10 feet of some of the world's best golfers. We drank a beer out of the plastic green Masters cups. We sat greenside for a few holes to watch golfers' approach shots land on the green, or find a bunker, and then to watch them chip and putt. We waited in line for a course-provided photo with the clubhouse and iconic flower bed in the background. And we bought souvenirs.

A day that happened because attending the Masters was a bucket-list item for me ended up being so much more. It ended up being a fun weekend road trip with my girl three weeks before she graduates from college and has to start adulting for real.

We took the time to explore Asheville, N.C., on the way, we tried for a little bit of good health by using the hotel fitness room, we ate bagels, pizza and chicken and drank coffee and milkshakes, we laughed, and we sang (Nat takes great pride in her Spotify playlist). We drove 1,400 miles and were gone exactly 48 hours.