With its Mission Revival architecture, the shops and restaurants of State Street are best explored on foot. Santa Barbara’s main thoroughfare provides plenty of allure, but the real charm of State Street lies in the courtyards and alleys that hold a sense of mystery and romance. During my first visit, I pictured Santa Barbara as the setting for Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera.

There is plenty of golf in the area, but only Sandpiper Golf Club sits on the ocean. Of its five waterside holes, the best is the 532-yard 13th, which requires a heroic carry to reach the green in two. But the risk may be worth it, because like the 15th at Augusta National, the downhill lay-up area requires a perfectly judged wedge.

As a twosome, we sped through the front nine before being held up on the 12th tee, where we joined Steve, a regular. On the final tee, we asked Steve for a dinner recommendation. He suggested Beachside Bar Cafe, down the road.

I rarely take course recommendations, but welcome dining tips. I’ve wasted days of my life deciding where to eat; this way, there is somebody to blame if the food is bad.

Mike wasn’t so sure. He is a big fan of Sideways, the movie about a similar road trip, through the area’s wine country. He wanted to go to Hitching Post II, which plays a key role in the movie. So our choices were a place where an actual person had enjoyed many meals and another glorified by a character in an overindulgent movie.

Despite my ambivalence toward the movie, I wasn’t entirely against the idea—what if the waitresses were really like Virginia Madsen? But I was starving and the Hitching Post was more than half an hour away. So we compromised: dinner at Beachside, which turned out to be a fine choice, followed by a stop at the Hitching Post for a glass of wine.

It turned out that the Post closed at 9:30 (we got there at 9:37), which seemed to be the norm for the area. We were a long way from fast-paced Southern California—as we moved up the coast, galleries and bistros gave way to souvenir shops and barbeque joints.

The next morning, we had an early round at Monarch Dunes in Nipomo. Routed through eucalyptus groves and a community called the Woodlands, the layout offers a reward for Central Coast visitors smart enough to venture north from Santa Barbara. The most alluring holes are the 13th through 15th, two par 4s followed by a long par 3. With a minimalist look, ragged bunkering and undulating greens, the stretch was reminiscent of Bandon Trails.

Despite the setting, I was in a foul mood afterward. For years, I had been a far better player than Mike. But recently, he had worked hard on his game while I had gotten worse. I would help him with tips, advice and encouragement—in golf, our relationship was that of mentor and protégé—and I would find myself spotting him fewer strokes every time we played.

By this trip, he was playing the best golf of his life, and it was better than the worst golf of mine. After winning at Torrey, I was swept—straight up, no less. Instead, my triumphs came in the radio game; I ruled the ’80s one-hit wonders category, highlighted by the naming of “Safety Dance” by Men without Hats.

Far from being a proud mentor of a protégé’s success, I was stewing. Until now, my deteriorating game hadn’t bothered me enough to actually improve it. We will plan another golf trip this summer, and I’ll be ready.

As I sulked, we drove through Pismo Beach, San Luis Obispo and Morro Bay before entering a no man’s stretch—mile after mile of natural coastline in the world, broken up by one of the most impressive dwellings in the world: Hearst Castle.

William Randolph Hearst wasn’t a golfer, but he set a couple of examples for today’s golf developers. Had he built a course on scale with his vacation residence atop the “Enchanted Hill,” Steve Wynn would have felt that his unlimited budget for Shadow Creek was too small. In addition, Hearst showed that guests would travel to the most remote places if the payoff was impressive. Indeed, that’s what Mike Keiser found with Bandon Dunes.

My thoughts then turned petty. To see the entire property, visitors must take five different tours, a total of $126 during peak season. It seemed incongruous to spend so much just to gawk at a publishing tycoon’s part-time home. Hearst was an art collector—wouldn’t selling a couple of pieces subsidize the tour prices? Feeling ripped off, I resolved to cancel my subscription to Hearst Corporation’s O, The Oprah Magazine when I got home.

Much about California has changed in the decades since Hearst received guests like Errol Flynn, but this stretch of coastline has remained unsullied. This is especially so in Big Sur, where the two-lane road winds, climbs and dips as it follows the coast. It is necessary to slow down, so allow for plenty of time, especially if you’re trying to get to a tee time at Pebble Beach.