Places atecca Wants to Go

A breathtaking 19th-century trail overlooks Lake Tahoe.

Over 600 acres of idyllic open grassland honor Nebraska’s georgic storyteller.

More than 300 years ago, a revolt at this Hopi pueblo shaped the future of the American Southwest.

An abandoned railroad tunnel is now filled with bioluminescent bugs.

For two weeks every June, fireflies in the Smoky Mountains perform an astonishing light show.

Thousands of mounted insects, and some live ones, hide within an otherwise ordinary shopping mall.

The pharmacy's retro ice cream mixer is one of the last of its kind.

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

Come for the pizza, stay for a performance on the world's largest theater pipe organ.

A living snapshot of a different time in America is preserved and maintained by a community of volunteers.

A mining town, now abandoned, was built in a canyon so narrow that the railroad ran right through the hotel lobby.

This ramshackle ghost town is comprised of mining-era buildings collected from around the region.

Settled by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1859, this abandoned frontier town has appeared in several films.

This amazingly preserved Gold Rush town is a historian's dream.

Standing in a state of "arrested decay," this ghost town allows for a detailed peek into Gold Rush life in an unusually harsh climate.

Once connected to the outside world by a single train track, this ghost town is looked after by the National Park Service.

A desert ghost town—occupied for only 12 years—was once home to more than 500 silver mines.

See just what life was like in a 19th-century prospecting town.

The ghostly remains of what was once the world's richest copper mine.

An antique store houses the last operational diner from the defunct department store chain.

Texas's oldest bakery serves authentic German pastries, including legendary strudel.

From working out of his garage to the James Beard semifinals, one Tucson baker has kept his fan base—and his grains—local.

Flashy signs from Las Vegas’s past find their final resting place at this unusual graveyard.

Singing sand that stands as the final remains of an ancient lake.