Places marksuz Wants to Go

Ancestral Puebloan ruins, natural arches, and box canyons abound in this seldom-visited corner of Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park.

Sandstone rock formations that look like they belong on the cover of a progressive rock album.

Art and a pun, all in one.

Ralph Waldo Emerson spent two years living here decades before it became a Frederick Law Olmsted-designed park.

A hollow cement depiction of time's inexorable effect on the human body.

Hidden in a grotto 26 feet below Nottingham's oldest hotel, this stylish subterranean drinking den is notoriously hard to find.

The only diamond mine in the world where you can keep what you find.

An homage to everyone's favorite prehistoric cartoon family.

This floating garden in the sky is straight out of a fairy tale, but the real thing is nothing short of magical.

This spectacular track has run continuously since 1882.

Dyed by iron oxide over centuries, these sandstone rocks rise thousands of feet into the sky.

This eye-popping Icelandic crater lake is surrounded by red volcanic rock.

Tubing through a cave lit with glowworms is a magical underground experience.

The lush coastal city of Astoria is riddled with forgotten secret sidewalks.

The underground sanctuary of a mysterious ancient cult.

Now famous as the "Harry Potter bridge," this impressive concrete viaduct has long been an icon in its own right.

An incarceration museum on the spot of possibly the oldest prison in England.

Eons old volcanic activity created one of the most stunning rock formations in the United States.

The Boston square dedicated to the dark poet who was born nearby.

Home to the largest urban bat colony in North America, estimated at 1.5 million bats.

The abandoned husk of a mental institution that failed to save a Jazz Age icon still sits nearly unchanged.

Stripes of flowers bloom each spring in a 50 acre rainbow of color.

A island reachable by a causeway at low tide is possibly one of the earliest Western European locations to be identified in text.

The randomness of this wall of lava lamps helps encrypt up to 10 percent of the internet.