Full Plower Power : An inexpensive--and tourist-free--spot to commune with nature

There is no bad time of year to head north on U.S. 101, a route far more quickly and beautifully not Los Angeles than any other highway leaving the city. On this early spring day our destination is Lompoc--with its famous Club Fed prison, a site more people think of escaping from than escaping to. We are on our way to prove that wisdom wrong.

About 160 miles northwest of Los Angeles, an hour or so beyond Santa Barbara, Lompoc was briefly a temperance colony whose bylaws were explicit: “No vinous, malt, spiritous or other intoxicating liquors shall be manufactured or sold. . . .” Today it boasts its very own winery and is an easy jump to more than 30 others dotting the rolling hills of the California Central Coast.

Wine is not the only reason to come here. The Valley of the Flowers, so dubbed because it once was the chief provider of flower seeds worldwide, is edged by a rugged, pristine coastline. (This year’s Lompoc Valley Flower Festival is June 26 to 30.) It has the most completely reconstructed mission in the state and offers a colorful mural walk through a struggling downtown.

But to enjoy Lompoc to its fullest, you have to remember the real reason you’re here: It’s not just lovely, it’s cheap. It’s tourist-free. And it’s cheap. It’s friendly. And it’s cheap. While the night life is spare and you have to look kind of hard for diversions, they’re here, and they’re, well, inexpensive.

We arrived on Friday night and checked into the Embassy Suites Hotel. (Cocktails--free. Breakfast--free.) Saturday morning we had toyed with the idea of visiting Vandenberg Air Force Base, which is working hard to turn itself into a commercial spaceport since the Challenger disaster 10 years ago pared back the shuttle program nationwide and canceled Vandenberg’s future as the Western shuttle launch site.

For $20 a person--$18 for seniors, $12 for children--you can descend deep into a Titan missile silo to see a launch site from the inside out. If you’re lucky. The silo is undergoing maintenance; this tour highlight is currently off limits.

Perhaps our problem was a touch of spring fever. The sun was shining, the air was cool and crisp, and we couldn’t imagine a mobile military lecture. So we decided to explore Vandenberg a different way--by strolling some of its 38 miles of coastline, perhaps the loveliest, emptiest beach we’ve wandered in all of California.

To get there, you bicycle or drive 10 miles of straight Highway 246 (also known as Ocean Avenue) due west through verdant fields of flowers, lettuce, asparagus and cauliflower. The rolling hills that make up the Lompoc Valley are brilliant green from the spring rains, studded with scrub oak and wildflowers. “They look like they’re covered in emeralds,” says one old-timer.

There’s a small sign on the right that whispers “Ocean Beach Park.” Hang a right and drive slowly; the road is rutted and crossed by railroad tracks. A flight of gulls ascends into the pearly morning sky. At sunset deer graze. When you reach the parking lot there are 10 cars and space for about 100 more. A single surfer wipes sandy feet. Two elderly men stroll back to their car, puffing a little: “Quite a jaunt we had there.”

The undertow rules out wading for the smallest of beach-goers, but the walking is fine. Snowy egrets stretch sinuous necks, a dog romps with its master. According to the warning signs, snowy plover--an endangered shore bird since 1993--are crouching in the sand, nesting in the dunes. We walk for miles, passing an occasional fisherman. So what if you can see missile launching pads in the misty distance and the beach is patrolled by gun-toting federal agents on all-terrain vehicles instead of lifeguards. They wave, they’re friendly. We’re practically alone.

It amazes us that a region so blessed with

natural beauty isn’t lousy with bed and breakfast inns and bristling with tourists. All of California could be like this, we figure, if it weren’t for a vigorous tourism industry, the kind of effort that Lompoc would like but hasn’t quite mastered.

Now we’re hungry. If this were any other day of the week, we’d probably eat terrific chili verde burritos, $2.94 at Taco Loco on Ocean Avenue. But it’s Saturday in Lompoc, and that means only one thing: barbecue.

When the weather allows, which is most of the time, Saturday mornings find H Street transformed into Barbecue Alley. Clouds of smoke billow out over weekend shoppers, as Scout troops, churches and Lions Club chapters feed cured oak logs into aging mobile barbecues, bed-size and layered in grease.

The menu is usually the same, and the Central Coast is famous for it: grilled tri-tip or half a grilled chicken, sprinkled with so-called Santa Maria spices. Ranch beans. Grilled French bread dipped in melted butter. Salad (the formal name for iceberg lettuce doused liberally with vinaigrette). Five bucks.

According to “Sagas of the Central Coast,” tri-tip was long a mid-California secret, an oddly shaped cut of meat few cooks knew quite what to do with. “The breakthrough, according to local barbecuers, came in the late 1950s, when Santa Maria butcher Bob Schoups innocently placed the end cut--seasoned with salt, pepper and garlic salt--on a rack in his department’s rotisserie,” Sagas says. “Forty-five minutes later he shared it with fellow workers, who were amazed at its unique texture and flavor.”

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Schoups promoted his creation, it caught on, and now it’s a staple on the fund-raising circuit here. This Saturday, the Word of Grace Christian Center has set up shop at the corner of North and H streets, selling chicken spicy and crisp on the outside, juicy and perfectly done on the inside. For a few dollars more, the volunteers at Grace Temple Missionary Baptist Church washed our car while we dined at a rickety folding table, shielding our paper napkins from the wind.

Two blocks away, the Vandenberg Village Lions Club had already sold about 400 pounds of meat, and lunchtime wasn’t over. Stuffed and happy, we piled into the car and headed east on Ocean Avenue to the vineyards of the Santa Ynez Valley, just one small set of hills away. Turning onto Santa Rosa Road, we drove until we figured we must have missed Sanford Winery. Just as we were about to head back for a nap, we saw the sign and turned in.

The grounds were dotted with daffodils and morning glory. A happy dog slept on a sun-warmed patio. We spent a pleasant half-hour in a milking-shed-turned-tasting-room and left about $40 poorer, knocked off of our dedication to thrift by a lovely Pinot Noir and some Sauvignon Blanc. Two or three miles farther on was Mosby winery, where the year’s first California poppies had arrived the day before we did.

Dinner this night was at the Jetty Restaurant, where the steaks and seafood are pretty basic, but the service shines. Friday night we’d dined at Sissy’s Uptown Cafe, where owner-chef Sonseeah Gil tries to introduce this little city to something adventurous every weekend. Sometimes it’s osso buco or duck breast in cherry sauce.

Service was a little slow, so the bruschetta appetizer was free. But the experience was worth it. If Gil ever gave up cooking, she’d make a great tour guide for the local wine industry; with her directions we didn’t need a map for our excursion.

On Sunday, we headed down Highway 1 toward home, proud of a weekend away on just a couple hundred dollars. Then we hit Ventura, home of Patagonia outdoor wear. Trying to stay frugal, we avoided Patagonia’s full-price retail store, the Great Pacific Iron Works, in favor of their outlet, Real Cheap Sports. We should have stayed away entirely. So much for cheapness.

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Budget for Two

Two nights, Embassy Suites: $186.40

Gas: $18.35

Wine-tasting fee: $5.00

Carwash at charity event: $6.00

Food: $135.00

FINAL TAB: $350.75

Embassy Suites, 1117 N. H St., Lompoc, CA 93436; tel. (805) 735-8311.