This 40-room dwelling tucked within a cliff was built by the basin's prehistoric residents.

An abandoned facility that has become a place of ritualistic satanic worship, or so rumor has it.

Some of the tallest ancient American ruins continue to inspire awe and curiosity.

This abandoned horse racing track was an exercise in hubris from its inception.

This rustic cabin, outfitted with gun slits, was once home to John D. Tewksbury, patriarch of the bloodiest family feud in American history.

A self-built castle made by a mysterious man.

Founded by members of the Tohono O’odham Nation, this one-room joint's James Beard–winning fry bread is light as a cloud.

In this small Phoenix taxidermy emporium, you can find everything from a squid in a jar to a freeze-dried toad.

The installation’s official name, “You Who Are Getting Obliterated in the Dancing Swarm of Fireflies,” says it all.

This striking public art installation is suspended above a public park, designed to gently move in the breeze.

Open since 1938, this diner has kept its fountain, malt machine, and all the gum that greasers left beneath its counter.

This small, unassuming street is now a canvas for color and creativity.

Thousands of Mexican Free-Tailed Bats soar around an abandoned storm drain at sunset each summer.

The high point on the 16th president's eponymous roadway is marked by a massive version of his head.

Even in death, he's still your huckleberry.

The site of a defunct mill, that once supplied marble for the construction of the Lincoln Memorial.

A little-known hot spring haven right below the highway.

Open-air cremations in Colorado's self-proclaimed spiritual mecca.

A monument to the egos of two railroad magnates that fell into decline along with their careers.

Miraculous tree that seems to sprout out of solid rock.

Silver in the hills led to the speedy creation of this boom town and a lack of it saw the town abandoned nearly as quickly.

“You better take care of me Lord, if you don't you're gonna have me on your hands.” ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

All that remains of this once-booming mining town are the ruins of a saloon.

This nearly abandoned town was once a thriving mining community until a series of fires.