Indianola - Part 2

 Friday, July 17:  The first part was getting unwieldy, so Part 2 will cover the trip home. I was up before 6 this morning just in time to see the sun rise over the Walmart across Jefferson Ave. in Indianola.

After a full breakfast at the Pommier I loaded up the bike and was on the road heading south on US 65/69 just a few minutes after 8. I followed a combination of the notes on an index card that I’d written, the GPS, and my map - south on 69 to Osceola, then I-35 for 20 miles to Decateur, then NE 2 east to Bedford and US 148 southeast to Hopins and NE JJ east to US 71 south to my old friend US 136 east. (A note on the 20 miles of JJ: This is a well-maintained roller coaster of a road that goes by farms with blind corners, hidden driveways, and gravel from those driveways in many of the corners. A lot of fun but probably quite dangerous.) I chose the slightly out of the way 136 to my destination for the night because I like 136, which is a little-traveled and scenic road that follows the path of the Republican River, although you never actually see the river. Mainly, though, I wanted to stop and visit the Montz Motorcycle Museum in Tecumseh, NE, which is only open from 10-4 on Friday and Saturday. When I arrived at noon I was distressed to see a closed sign and one of those “will return at” signs with a clock indicating 1:30, by which time I’d be long gone. However, there was another sign saying to call the number below, which I did and Bill Montz said, “Don’t go away. I’m done with lunch and I’ll be right there.” which he was after about 10 minutes. He’s an old guy like me (older, even - he’s 84) and very enthusiastic about his collection, which he was proud to take me through. There are maybe 60 motorcycles on the floor and another dozen or so smaller machines on shelves on the walls of the three 20 foot end to end buildings that make up the museum. Every one of the bikes has a story and I heard most of them from Bill, who said that he raced a little in his youth and has lived in Tecumseh all his life. 

He has two machines that were purchased from the Steve McQueen estate in Las Vegas back in 1984, a French Peugeot and an American Henderson with a sidecar. 

The pink sheets in the frame are the bills of sale for the machines. 

Bill poses next to a very nice 1967 Royal Enfield Interceptor.

An early Cushman motor scooter.

The elegant Sunbeam was supposed to be a gentleman’s motorbike, but never caught on.

There were several military bikes from WWII, including a scooter that was dropped by parachute.

And, finally, an Art Deco Harley VL (flathead) from 1936. Note the design on the tank, the horn, and the paint design on the front fender.

Back on the road after an hour and a quarter, I continued on US 136 west and began looking for a place to eat. Many of the small town cafes and restaurants are open for breakfast and lunch until 2, and then close for the day, or the larger ones reopen at 5 for dinner. Beatrice, NE is a sizable town and I thought that I could find a place that was open but no such luck. I stopped in front of a bar, The Rail, where a guy was smoking outside and I asked him if there was a place that was still open for lunch, and he said to come in that there was a kitchen inside. Well, there was but it closed at 2, but the lady behind the bar called ahead to Michael J’s down the rode any they were open, so I went there and had a late lunch, but not before snapping a picture of the behind-the-bar scene at The Rail, where a surprising number of people were day drinking at the bar and at tables.

 My other mission on US 136 was to stop in Red Cloud, NE and discover if it had been revitalized since the last time I saw it a few years ago when it was looking very worn.  Unfortunately, 136 was blocked before Red Cloud both from the east and north, so I will have to wait until the next trip. After a lot of jostling around on minor roads following the detour signs and my GPS I joined US 34, which took me to McCook, NE and the Horse Creek Inn, another place that, while adequate, doesn’t live up to the promise of its elegant name. Dinner was across the highway at a Subway. (470 miles)

Saturday, July 18:  I was in  no rush today because I was tired and it would be relatively short day and I would gain an hour going into Colorado. Breakfast at the motel was what I expected - adequate. I finally made a motel waffle and it was…OK. That along with cut watermelon, a banana, and a hard-boiled egg and I wasn’t hungry anymore, so what more could I ask for. When I left at 9:15 it was almost 80 degrees and humid and I continued west on 136 to 61 south into Kansas where it becomes 161 and turn right at US 36 in Bird City to St. Francis and Fresh Seven coffee. 

at 

The interior hasn’t changed much and I discovered that Fresh Seven is under new ownership, Kale and Heidi having sold the business and moved to Phoenix. The website said they were open to 4 on Saturday, but the sign in the window said they closed at noon. Inside I discovered that they were out of scones, so I ordered a homemade peanut butter power bar of some kind and a pour over coffee, which that day was Mexico and it was delicious - I will have to order a pound when I get home.

Back on the road I followed my GPS, index card, and map and US 36 into Colorado and south on CO 59 to Selbert where I got gas at a sad Valero station. By this time the day had warmed considerably to 85-90 degrees, but the humidity had gone down and my sweat was evaporating and keeping me cool - well, cooler than I was in Iowa and Nebraska with similar temperatures but higher humidity. When I was back at the bike a guy rolled over from the pumps on a large and loaded Harley FL Tour Glide. He was Doug (maybe Carl) in a T-shirt and jeans and he and his very pretty daughter, Skyler, were on their way to Sturgis via Cody, WY, Red Lodge, the Beartooth, and Yellowstone. His plates were from Georgia, so he and Skyler had come a long way. Skyler was dressed in tights and a white top. He had been to Sturgis many times, so he knew what to expect there. I put in a plug for the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum and was on I-70 heading west at the 80 mph speed limit. 

I exited I-70 in Limon where US 24 goes to Colorado Springs. About 20 miles down the road in Simla I smelled rain and noticed that the cars and trucks coming in my direction had their headlights on, so I pulled into a gas station, closed jacket vents, turned up the collar, and switched to rain gloves instead of waiting until the rain came and I got soaked before doing the rain thing.  Sure enough 5 minutes later there were a couple of showers over the next 20 minutes but I stayed dry, although the temperature dropped from 75 to 60 until the showers were over and the sun came out. I stayed on 24 into Colorado Springs where there was suddenly traffic and then I followed the GPS to downtown and the Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Museum. It is on the second floor of a large, modern building and is rather crowded with an eclectic collection of mostly American motorcycles. The place is well lit with adequate signage and you can see the bikes up close, although they aren’t well placed for photographing. 

Several of the rarer and more valuable machines were in glass cases.

Some bikes were restored to pristine condition and others were in original, unrestored condition.

And a few bikes had obviously been rode hard and put away wet.

There was a display of old leather jackets, cases with shelves of motorcycle models and toys, and even a display of…oil cans.

There was even a little cheesecake in the form of old motorcycle callendars.

In 1937 a couple of motorcycle clubs decided it would be a good idea to climb Pike’s Peak on New Year’s Eve, and so the Snow Run was born.  The run has continued every year since then with a few exceptions.

After a quick sandwich at a sort of food court next door, I was back on the road and headed west on US 24 to Woodland Park and then up and over Wilkerson Pass at 9500 feet. US 24 was four lanes divided to Woodland Park, then two lanes the rest of the way. Traffic was light in my direction but heavier headed east with people returning from a weekend day in the mountains, including a very large number of motorcycles, mostly Harleys. There must have been a run. I caught a couple of short showers near Trout Creek Pass (9400 feet and under 60 degrees) but didn’t stop to gear up, not that there was anyplace to safely pull over. I hardly got wet and dried off in 10 minutes when the sun came out at lower elevations. 

US 24 joins US 285 south and I stayed on that to Buena Vista (almost 8000 feet) and found the Lakeside Motel where the manager had left the door open for number 4 with my key on the dresser.

My kind of place - everything I need and nothing I don’t. There’s a small lake (pond really) across the street with a playground and the motel even comes with a dog named Walter.

Dinner was a chicken sandwich with feta that I brought back to the room. As much as I enjoyed the farmland of Iowa and eastern Nebraska, and the plains later on it was good to be in the mountains. (390 miles)

Indianola, Iowa: Three operas and two friends

 Last year I enjoyed the two operas I saw in Indianola so much that, as soon as tickets were available, I ordered a subscription for all three operas for the 2026 season. Clark from Maryland will drive there via a circuitous route that involves various old bars and restaurants and a bakery in Evanston, IL. Bill will fly from San Francisco. I'll ride my 2008 BMW R1200R on a northern route to get to Iowa, and a more southerly route on the way back. 

The trip got off to an inauspicious start before I even left home when Pan, Andrew’s mixed breed black cat, who is spending the summer with us along with his sister, Momo, decided to bite me when I picked him up in Catland (Nikki’s old bedroom) in order to avoid our dog, Walter, who had snuck in when I was cleaning the litter box. The bite bled freely, so I thought that was enough to clear out any bacteria, but Carol texted Nikki (the vet), who said I should get an antibiotic. More on that later.

Wednesday, July 8. I was up at 5:30 because I wanted to leave before 9 when the Clean Team arrives. I did my morning routine and had a quick breakfast, walked Walter, loaded the bike, showered and was out the door before 9 - very unusual for the first day of a trip. It was about 55 degrees and gray (typical July weather) and I was across the Golden Gate bridge and on highway 37 quickly with minimal delay. Even I-80 east to Vacaville and I-505 was uncrowded. When I stopped for gas in Willows, I noticed that one of my side panels wasn’t secure because a screw that holds the lower half was missing. This has happened before, and at home I have several of the special Torx head shouldered screws in the proper size but none with me. In Red Bluff I stopped at a Home Depot and spent some time with a helpful clerk to find stainless, 5mm X 12mm, panhead, Philips screws that would work along with 5 and 6mm washers to grip the panel face. I installed the screw in the parking lot (only about 85 degrees) and was on my way to Redding where I went northeast on US 299 toward Alturas. I was feeling pretty good about the day so far - minor problem addressed, weather clear and warm between 85-95 (after a month of June gloom in the Bay Area I wasn’t complaining) and minimal traffic. About 10 miles outside of Burney I hit road construction for which I’d seen signs warning of  “up to 30 minutes delay,” so I was prepared. After waiting over an hour with no sign of progress in either direction, I checked my map and decided to return to Burney, get gas, and take CA 89 north to I-5 and then US 97 to Klamath Falls and then 140 to Lakeview, OR where I had a reservation at a Best Western. This would add over 100 miles to the day, but better than waiting at the road construction site until Autumn, perhaps. (The man at the gas station in Burney said that it wasn’t unusual for delays to be well over an hour.) On 89 my GPS kept insisting that I make a U-turn back to 299, but eventually it directed me to small back roads going east. I stopped to look at the map and realized that the roads would eventually join 299 beyond the construction zone, so I followed the directions and joined 299 again in Fall River Mills and continued to Adin where I stopped for dinner at a small cafe, on to Alturas, and US 395 to Lakeview, arriving around 8:30 just at dusk. (470 miles)

Thursday, July 9. Following an excellent breakfast at the motel I was on the road by 8:15. It was a beautiful day, clear and about 65 degrees and I rode by Albert Lake and enjoyed the scenery and curves for 20 or 30 miles until the landscape became high desert and 395 lost its curves. When I stopped for gas in Hines, I asked the attendant if there was an urgent care facility in town, and he said that there was in Burns, a few miles east. I looked up “urgent care” on Google and followed the directions to a place near the hospital, where they were able to take me in almost immediately. The finger that Pan bit had become tender and a little swollen. (Yesterday, Carol had urged me to go to an urgent care before I left, but I figured it would take 2 hours and I wanted to be on my way. Looking back, if I’d done that I probably would have gotten to the road construction after the workers had left for the day.) Anyway, I got a tetanus shot and a prescription for Amoxicillin. The paperwork took longer than the brief wait, examination, and shot. The prescription was filled at a Safeway almost next door and while I waited I had a packaged salad and coffee and was back on the road in an hour and a half. 

Rather than take scenic (and traveled) US 20 out of Burns to Ontario on the Idaho border, I went southeast on OR 78 through high desert to Burns Junction and then US 95 northeast to Jordan Valley. It was hot, the scenery was bleak, but there were hardly any other vehicles on the road until the 95 junction, when I picked up traffic t from Winnemucca, NV on its way to Boise, ID. A few miles before the town of Jordan Valley I saw an historical marker sign - something about a Charbonneau and Lewis and Clark. I thought that the name sounded familiar and figured he must have been one of the people on the famous Lewis and Clark Voyage of Discovery in 1805-06. (more later) I stopped at the bleak little town of Jordan Valley at the Sinclair station. That, the cafe next door, and a hardware store seemed to be the only open businesses among many empty storefronts. 

A few miles north of Jordan Valley

JV Cafe (Jordan Valley) closed

Abandoned motel and gift shop

About 2 miles outside of town there was a 20 minute wait for chip seal road construction and a pilot car for a few miles of gravel and then another 20 miles or so of loose chips to the Idaho border. In Idaho I followed ID 55 to I-84 south and east to Mountain Home. Traffic was very heavy on the other side of the Interstate, but not in my direction where the speed limit was 80 mph south of Boise. 

I exited at US 20 in Mountain Home, gassed up at a Chevron, and checked into the Mountain Home Inn, where I’ve stayed before, and dined (not very well) at the restaurant next door. When I looked at the bike I found that another panel screw was missing, so I replaced it with one of the several I’d purchased at the Home Depot in Red Bluff.

Back at the motel I looked up Charbonneau and found that he was Jean Baptiste Charbonneau, son of Sacagawea and Toussaint Charbonneau, members of the Lewis and Clark expedition. As a child he was known as Pompey, and grew up to be a guide and translator, gold miner (in the California gold rush of 1849 among others), and even a town mayor. As a boy he lived with William Clark in St. Louis where he was educated, met Duke Wilhelm of Wittenberg (a friend of Clark’s) and then lived with the Duke in Germany where his education continued - he learned German and Spanish in addition to his English and French. Quite the guy. He died in 1866 (61 years old) after falling ill on his way to a rumored gold strike in Montana. He may have fallen into a river either off a horse or stagecoach and contracted pneumonia. He’s buried in the ghost town of Danner, a few miles off US 95. (405 miles)

Friday, July 10  Another beautiful morning although the bag breakfast at the Mountain Home Inn was less than I’d hoped for and the room coffee was undrinkable. (They are remodeling their kitchen.)

The peanut butter and graham crackers were OK, but the rest not so much. I walked across the street and got a cup of decent coffee at the Pilot service center and I was on my way by 8:30. 

US 20 east from Mountain Home climbs up and over a couple of low (5600 feet) mountains and then settles down into a high plateau to Fairfield. The temperature had dropped from 70 to 65 and stayed there to Fairfield. I continued on to Craters of the Moon (been there and done that a couple of times) stopped in Arco for gas and a visit to a auto parts store for Permatex thread locker, then an Ace hardware store for a replacement for my 4 in 1 screwdriver that had frozen over the years. Back on the road I rode by the turnoff for EBR-1, the first civilian nuclear reactor (been there and done that twice) and continued to Idaho Falls, where I managed to get through town and on to US 26 east without being turned around - a first for me. Traffic had picked up with people heading to Jackson, Grand Teton, and Yellowstone, but it moved along, there were places to pass, and the scenery was good.

Below is from a viewpoint along US 26 before Swan Valley.

Below is the Snake River just before Swan Valley.

I stopped in Swan Valley for a quick lunch of Mediterranean Salad and coffee, got gas at an Exxon, and continued on 26 to Victor, which is a larger town with more businesses than Swan Valley. I managed to get  around a lot of traffic before the Wyoming border and then the Teton Pass (8400 feet). Traffic the other way was quite heavy but in my direction it moved along well until Jackson, which was typically crowded. I stopped at the north end of town at the Visitor’s Center and continued on 26/89/191/287 to Moran Junction where I stayed on 26/287 east, most everyone else going to Yellowstone. I crossed Togwotee Pass (9658 feet) and had a few sprinkles for 20 minutes and the temperature dropped 10 degrees to 65, then it gradually warmed and cleared until Dubois.

My modest accommodations for tonight - Trails End Motel in Dubois, WY. My traditional kind of place.

The Wind River runs right through Dubois.

Every thing you need in one store. Except ammo.

Most of the local businesses don’t run shifts and tomorrow is Saturday so the restaurants don’t open until later in the morning. My motel, for all its charms, does not have breakfast or even coffee in the lobby, but the Conoco station down the road opens at 6 and has coffee and I have power bars so I will survive. (390 miles)

Saturday, July 11.  Up at 6 and after stretches and then coffee from the Conoco and a power bar I was on the road a little after 8. It was only 59 degrees, but a clear and sunny day and the thin air at the high altitude (6900 feet) made the sun seem stronger. After 10 miles or so I entered the Wind River Indian Reservation and the forest gave way to red rock formations. In Fort Wahachie I saw a sign for Sacajawea burial and quickly hit the brakes and entered the town, which consisted of a community hall, administration offices, and residences. I saw a sign for the cemetery and turned to discover that it was probably the one I wanted. I got out the phone and searched for Sacajawea burial site and found that there is an actual Sacajawea Cemetery, and I followed the phone for a mile or so.  

Many accounts state that Sacajawea died at 25 in South Dakota (possibly from Typhus), but Shoshone oral history says that she went to Wind River and lived into her 80s. There were offerings at the grave of tobacco and jewelry and coins and I thought of what I could leave there to honor her. Not being prepared I looked in my pockets and discovered a quarter with an Indian head on the back. The sun was very bright and I couldn’t make out the inscription, but I left it there. (Later in the morning I searched for “quarters with Indians on them” and discovered three, none of which matched what I had left. I even searched for Canadian quarters with the same result. I can only think that it was a quarter-sized commemorative coin that I had acquired in change.)

Another 15 miles or so and I was in Lander and found the Middle Fork Cafe right downtown. I’d planned on a light breakfast since due to a misunderstanding I had over-dined the previous evening, but when I saw Eggs Benedict on the menu I ordered that anyway, and it was very good, although much too filling. 

The temperature had gone up to 85 degrees and it wasn’t even 10. I decided to take US 26/20 to Casper rather than continuing on US 287 even though 287 shows on my map as a scenic route along the old Pioneer Trail along the Sweetwater River. I took that road a couple of years ago and it wasn’t all that scenic. US 26/20 certainly wasn’t either, but it is a slightly shorter route, and the temperature had gone up the mid 90s. I stopped at a rest area to drink some water (not enough, apparently - more later) and in Casper picked up I-25 south, exiting at US 18 in Orin, where I got gas and drank some cold tea. In Lusk I picked up a T-shirt at Ranger’s Bar and Lounge - back in the 1970s the Bay Guardian alternative newspaper (long gone) used to publish classified ads that were not vetted. I remember one that stated (I paraphrase), “Seven congenital dwarves afflicted with planters warts seek dominant personality to lend discipline to their loose living in Lusk, Wyoming.” I’ve always wanted to go to Lusk and now I have and I have the T-shirt to prove it.

By this time I was beginning to feel very tired and achy and the temperature had gone up over 100 - I saw a high of 102. I crossed into South Dakota and found the Hot Springs Lodge and Cafe and checked in and unloaded the bike. I would have liked to walk around town - the lodge is right across the river from the historic district - and perhaps have dinner at a barbeque restaurant that was recommended by my host, but as it was I was sick in the room, took a shower, went to bed and didn’t get up for 12 hours. Must remember to keep hydrated and force fluids. (425 miles)

Sunday, July 12.  In the morning (another beautiful, warm day with a cloudless sky) I was better but not 100%, so I had the lightest thing on the menu, French Toast, which cost all of $4.20 with the 15% guest discount. 

I was on the road a little after 8, got gas immediately (I usually gas up before my motel, but I was feeling so poorly yesterday that I didn’t.) I followed the GPS on US 385, but didn’t go east on US 18 toward Pine Ridge (Wounded Knee) as it wanted me to, which would have been slightly shorter, but I’ve been there and done that. In Nebraska just before Chadron (I camped 10 miles outside of town there back in 1974 on my first cross-country trip on Boris, my R75/5 BMW) I went east on US 20, which I would follow for most of the day. 

The temperature had gone up into the 90s, and I would see 95 a couple of times, but it was much better than yesterday. I stopped for gas in Valentine, where I spent the night in 2017 on the way to the eclipse, and then rode through the downtown for old times sake. With a few exceptions the larger towns (population over 1500) on US 20 have the business district a quarter mile or so off the highway, but in the smaller towns (some consisting of a grain elevator and a couple of abandoned businesses) the highway goes right through town. The speed limit was a reasonable 65 mph, slowing to 45 through town, maybe 35 or even 25 in the larger ones. I stopped at a very nice city park in Stuart to hydrate and adjust my map and walk around a bit.

The cattle ranches had given way to corn fields, the towns came more frequently, and there were more cars (well, pickups) on the road the farther east I traveled. About 10 miles after O’Neill (the Irish capital of Nebraska) I went southeast on US 275 towards Norfolk, and I reached my destination for the night on the west side of  town at the New Victorian Inn, which is not as grand as its name might imply, being somewhat run down and next door to a very large animal feed processing plant of some kind. Dinner at Michaels Mexican Restaurant across the highway was so-so. 

I’m looking forward to tomorrow, which will be a short day and I’ll see Bill in Des Moines for dinner.  (385 miles)

Monday, July 13  Another day that didn’t get off to a good start. I was still feeling the effects of being dehydrated and maybe food poisoning, so I just had a minimal breakfast at the motel. When I started packing I couldn’t find my light gloves that I’d been wearing almost the whole trip. I checked at the motel desk, and also at the counter of the gas station a half mile down the road where I’d fueled the evening before, but no luck. When I stop I usually tuck the gloves between the seat rail and the seat, and I can only figure that when I got gas and went back to the motel they fell off. I checked for motorcycle shops close by and found three. I went to the first but they didn’t have what I needed, then went to a Harley shop that was closed (I thought that I’d checked), and then called the third, which was about 10 miles away. I told the helpful parts guy that I wanted lightweight, leather, unlined gloves, and he didn’t have anything but suggested I try Bomgaars, which is a local area chain of home improvement/sporting goods/hardware/home furnishings/small tractor, etc. stores much like Fleet Farm in Wisconsin. I went to the closest one, which was across the street from the motel where I’d stayed, and they had just what I needed.

They are deerskin (more supple and stronger than cowhide) much like my fancy Lee Parks motorcycle gloves that went missing, except they don’t have a small extra layer across the knuckles and palm. A delay of about an hour and a half, but today was going to be a short day.

Finally back on the road I headed east. It was a pleasant day in the mid-80s and I stayed on US 275 to Wisner where I went east on IA 51, across the Missouri River, and into Iowa where I stopped in Onawa to take this picture of the impressive Monona County Courthouse,

NE 51 became IA 175 and then IA 141, which I followed through what seems to be prosperous farm country. There are green fields of corn and soybeans, and many of the towns have well-kept town parks. In Coon Rapids I stopped at Chuck’s Place (Chuck’s Bar and Grill) where Chuck himself recommended the Monday special of sloppy joe, tater tots, and cottage cheese with peanut butter and cornflake bar for dessert. I wasn’t hungry, but couldn’t resist and ordered that along with strawberry rhubarb pie.

I only had a couple of the tater tots and wrapped up the dessert bar for later. When I paid the bill I mentioned to Chuck that I’d seen bicycle paths all along the highway in Nebraska and Iowa and he said that it was a big deal and that there was an organized ride every year and many bicyclists stopped there. He asked what I was doing there and I told him that I’d been there 10 years ago (actually 11 - look in the blog for 2015 Henry Gregor Felsen Tribute) and he was out of rhubarb pie so I thought that I’d come back and try again. He said he remembered me, but I’m not so sure.

Back on 141 east the temperature had gone up and with the humidity it felt hotter. The GPS wanted me to stay on 141 to Des Moines, but in Ogden I went south on US 169, and after a dozen or so miles when that ended at road construction I followed the detour to I-80 east to I-35, the IA 5 and US 65 to Indianola and the Hotel Pommier where I’ll stay for the next four nights. Pommier is a small, independent chain of three hotels and this one is the nicest place I’ve stayed at so far. It’s an older property, but well-maintained with all the usual ammenities. 

I was supposed to have dinner with Bill this evening, but will probably pass. His flight from Denver was delayed and won’t arrive until 6:15, so we wouldn’t have dinner at the restaurant near the Hilton where he’s staying until well after 7. I’ll call when his flight finally lands. (250 miles)

Tuesday, July 14:  I was up most of last night with what is politely called gastro-intestinal distress. Lingering effects of the dehydration, the Eggs Benedict, Chuck’s sloppy joe? On Tuesday morning I was feeling so poorly that I walked to a nearby MercyOne Urgent Care and after a short wait and an interview with an NP, she told me that it was probably due to the anti-biotic, the enhanced Amoxicillin-clavulanate. She explained that the enhanced Amoxi causes diarrhea in 35% of people who take it and it is prescribed to prevent and treat an infection. She said that my finger wasn’t infected and that I should stop taking it immediately and go on a BRAT diet - bananas, rice, toast, yoghurt, other mild foods, no greasy burgers, etc. She also said that I should pick up some Imodium, which I did on the way back to the hotel at a Walmart, where I also got bananas, yoghurt, and also saltines and graham crackers at a Dollar Store nearby. Great neighborhood - all the essentials. By evening I was still a little shaky but was able to attend the opera.

King Roger by the Polish composer Szymanowski is a modern piece (1926) and is rarely performed. We all enjoyed it but agreed that we probably didn’t need to see it again. The production was over-the-top. It is a small company and theater but has a lot of resources and the artistic director used them all - sets that come out of the floor, a trap door, smoke machine, flash-bang, rain, and lavish costumes. 

Wednesday, July 15:  Feeling considerably better I had a biscuit from the hotel breakfast along with yoghurt and a banana for breakfast and joined Clark and Bill at the Nut Pop Thai restaurant in Des Moines for lunch - Clark and I had the Angry Catfish (mine mild with lots of rice) and I did just fine. 

Before the opera we met at a brew pub in downtown Indianola and Bill and I each had a small sandwich at a little soda fountain/cafe around the corner. 

Sign in an alley in downtown Indianola. Why I like the Midwest.

The opera was Of Mice and Men by the American composer Carlisle Floyd, and it was a great piece of theater. The music is modern with no hummable melodies, but there were two or three songs that were very enjoyable. Again the company did a great job and in contrast to King Roger, the production was almost spare with no flash. 

Thursday, July 16:  Today was my last day in town and I wanted to do a laundry and organize all my clothes and motorcycle stuff which was spread all over the spacious room at Hotel Pommier. After a full breakfast at the hotel I did that, and then rode to Bubba in downtown Des Moines to have a late lunch with the boys. Bubba serves Southern Comfort food - Clark and Bill had the chicken fried steak and I had breaded catfish with red rice and beans and succotash instead of the spicy Andouille sausage. Back at the hotel I took a shower and Clark and Bill picked me up and we went to the DMMO administration building a few blocks from the opera house for a reception put on by DMMO for out-of-state attendees. Bill and I hadn’t even come the longest distance - there was a young woman from Northport, Maine and a guy from Vancouver, WA. It is a nice building and there were about two dozen guests and we got to meet several singers, directors, and administrative people of the company, and also wandered around the building and peeked into some of the workshops. Back at the opera house we again attended the very informative lecture by Joshua Borths about that night’s production of Tosca. The show itself was again very well done with great work by the principal singers, especially the one who played Scarpia.

I can’t stress how much I enjoyed the experience at DMMO. The small (less than 500 seats) house and enthusiastic company - everyone from the singers to the people who work in the theater, many of them volunteers - make for a very enjoyable experience. There isn’t a bad seat in the house, and I’m afraid that if  ever return to San Francisco Opera with its 3000 seat house I will be disappointed.

(continued in Indianola - Part 2)