Deciding where to stop in in the Rockies part of I-70 is like picking a Ben & Jerry's flavor: They all sound pretty good, and for each one you have a friend who swears it's the best, but in the end you gotta make a choice and take a chance.
Since it was summer, I couldn't go skiing, and a friend had shown me a picture of Doc Holliday's grave from Glenwood Springs, so what the hell!
And I think I made a good choice:
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| I clearly chose Cherry Garcia |
As I found out shortly upon arriving, Glenwood Springs is named for… Wait for it…
...Hot springs.
Of course, when we think of hot springs, we think of natural basins filled with steaming, colorful water, inviting us to sooth our aches and pains…
...A hundred years ago, it was probably just that. Now, however it look a little different.
...A hundred years ago, it was probably just that. Now, however it look a little different.
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| Which is, honestly, pretty cool. |
I'm told it's the world's largest hot springs pool. I seriously hope so, because it's enormous.
We arrived too late to enjoy much more than a scenic tour and a nice dinner (don't let the late June pictures fool you: It's around 8:30 or 9 when these were taken), but I still really enjoyed it.
The downtown area has several cute little shoppes:
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| Go ahead. Just try to call these "shops." You will fail. |
There's several neat cultural things of small-town life:
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| The "meeting room" looked like chairs on a patio. Best conference room ever. |
And like many long-term resort/tourist/destination towns there was a certain degree of international flavor.
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| The cafe attached to our motel. Yes, the owners appeared to be Bavarian. No, we did not meet Rosi. |
But several things reminded me that this wasn't a johnny-come-lately resort town. This place had been here for years, both for the springs and as valuable place along the way across the country:
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| What it looks like now with the Interstate... |
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| ...Twist two inches and what it probably looked like pre-Interstate. |
Truth is: For every modern attraction like a zip-line, gondola to the vista, mini golf course, and, of course, the pool, there was some sign of the old frontier town from a century ago.
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| "Glenwood Springs Post Independent: We Spit in the Face of Time." |
And their mere presence shows something else:
People who live here care about their town and like it.
Rather than rip an old building down and put something shiny and new there, they remodel it and build a restaurant or shoppe into the old place.
Don't get me wrong. There was plenty of construction around, and all the various other signs of a town that's growing and doing pretty well.
But there was also this:
People who live here care about their town and like it.
Rather than rip an old building down and put something shiny and new there, they remodel it and build a restaurant or shoppe into the old place.
Don't get me wrong. There was plenty of construction around, and all the various other signs of a town that's growing and doing pretty well.
But there was also this:
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| The basement of this building had an insanely packed Italian restaurant. |
You see "For Rent." I see "Let's embrace the old, keep the building around and rent it out."
Maybe I have a soft spot for history (I do), maybe I'm a sucker for sentimentalism (also true), maybe I just like the idea of blending the old with the new (is a great idea!), but I smiled when I saw that sign instead of a for sale or notice of demolition.
Oh, and for those of you wondering when Doc Holliday was gonna enter into all this…
...Right across the street was this place:
Oh, and for those of you wondering when Doc Holliday was gonna enter into all this…
...Right across the street was this place:
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| Nothing like drinkin' with an enormous gun above your head... |
Evidence that sometimes when embrace history, you might also exploit it a little.
And really, as long as you still respect it, is that really so bad?
And really, as long as you still respect it, is that really so bad?
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