Taking our trip around SW Indiana somewhat out of order, I am jumping to our day in French Lick and West Baden Springs, Indiana. In case you never heard of these historically significant towns, they are an example of those places where people took trains (or perhaps drove their motorcars) from “the city” (Indianapolis, or Chicago, or other Mid-Western metropolises) to “take the waters.”

The massive resorts had their ups and downs, which I will not elaborate on here, but happily survived Jesuits, fires, the Sheraton Hotel company, and other perils to be restored to their former glory. Today, the relatively wealthy and sometimes even famous spend time in the hallowed halls and grounds, getting spa treatments, gambling at the casino, taking in a show, playing golf or just relaxing. Peggy and I, however, took it all in (as the cheap voyeurs we are) without spending a dime.

Here, I shall share our itinerary for a couple of hours of historic splendor and awe. First, we did spend a few bucks fortifying ourselves with ice cream, and wandered around downtown French Lick. Unfortunately, it was Sunday and the historical museum was closed, but we got the gist of “Pluto Water” which was a one-time bottled product of the Springs, from objects readable from the museum’s window, and from an old advertisement on the side of one of the buildings. A jaunty, muscular devil was their brand icon, and their slogan was “When nature won’t, Pluto will” (I.e., this was a natural laxative kind of beverage).

Next, we drove across the road and parked (for free) at the expansive lot in front of the French Lick Hotel. On our way into the lobby, we read historic markers including one about the invention of tomato juice, and then ascended the impressive staircase. We marveled awhile at the ornate lobby, and inquired about the historic trolley which transports people to West Baden Springs, and stopped to glance over cases of historic artifacts (including more Pluto water paraphernalia) and the famous people photos.

Next, after waiting a few minutes at the charming little depot, we boarded the (free!) trolley for the one-mile clackety clack trip through the woods to West Baden Springs. We disembarked and headed straight into the hotel and through the lobby. Once dubbed “the Eighth Wonder of the World” (how many of those are there?), one really needs to experience the hotel’s massive central atrium, which features a 200-foot dome, for oneself to get a sense of its scale and unique design.

Luckily, again for free, mere mortals can loll on a couch in the atrium and stare up at the dome and the hotel rooms arranged around it, for as long as one likes. Peggy and I did just that, zoning out and watching the lights at the top of the dome changing colors. “Are we really here?” and “Is this really real?” we had to ask ourselves.

Breaking away from the mesmerizing atrium, we walked around the atrium to view the enormous Rookwood pottery fireplace, featuring “Sprudel” – an impish figure frolicking among the landscape of the artwork. We roamed the circular hallways enjoying historic photos, and spent a few minutes learning more about the property’s history in their tiny museum.

Here we learned that a movie had been recently shot in the hotel and on the grounds, called “How Cold the River” the plot of which leans heavily on a very ominous bottle of Pluto water. (We had to watch it, of course, after we got home to Peggy’s house. Not highly recommended for anything except the great views of the hotel, and a few laughs at the rather incomprehensible plot.)

After a brief amble around the garden, we climbed aboard the trolley to return through the woods and over the creek to French Lick, our car, and reality. Having spent not a penny, but all the richer for our trip through time and space.