One has to pass through Glenwood Springs, Colorado to reach points south like Aspen and Maroon Bells.

A city of just under 10,000 people, Glenwood Springs sits at a crossroads. The Colorado River and I-70 cut through it from east to west, while Highway 82 South leads one into its downtown via an overpass bridge. This was taken from an adjacent pedestrian bridge.

To the west, an expanse of motels, radio towers and nearly monochrome mountainous terrain.

To the east, comparatively much more color and texture. On I-70, one must pass through the thrilling, precarious Glenwood Canyon to arrive here.

The town is mostly renown for the Glenwood Hot Springs which sprawl to the north of the river and interstate. We briefly considered checking them out but they were a little expensive for our taste.

More lush greenery to the east along I-70, but something red stands out to the right.

The town’s historic train station where Amtrak’s California Zephyr line still stops.

Initially, we feared the town itself was nothing more than a tourist trap given its proximity to the Hot Springs.

While ideally positioned to attract out-of-towners like us, the town also has an agreeable laid-back homey vibe nestled within all of its scenic beauty.

Not to mention a little whimsy here and there like this oversized ice cream cone.

Downtown has an excess of vintage architecture; I could’ve spend an entire day walking around taking photos.

Perhaps its other claim to fame (besides the Hot Springs) is that it’s where Doc Holliday died. I’d recently watched Tombstone (featuring Val Kilmer’s justly celebrated performance as Holliday) without knowing I’d end up here just a few months later.

I’m not sure how vintage this Riviera Lounge signage actually is, but I love it regardless.

A few blocks from downtown, I walked through a residential neighborhood on a lovely, warm September afternoon. The sign (and architectural design) of Gene’s Lock & Key immediately caught my eye.

As did this Masonic Lodge down the block, likely appearing exactly as it did 50 or 70 years ago.

One doesn’t see many mid-century structures anymore where I live like this church. Here, it looks picture-postcard perfect against the mountains to the west.

As I strolled through this neighborhood, I increasingly thought what a nice place it would be to live in if I ever grow weary of being in a big city.

There’s something odd but also charming about coming across a house displaying skis and snowshoes along its side exterior.

These strings of dog polaroids in the window at Deja Brew coffeehouse on Highway 82 are nothing but charming.

Downtown sports colorful signs with this slogan all over the place. Between stuff like this, the unexpected number of rainbow flags I saw in assorted businesses and the natural beauty surrounding it all, Glenwood Springs was a gem of a place to spend an afternoon.