In a state as big as Texas, there’s plenty of room for once-glorious places to slip into oblivion. We take a trip through the Lone Star State, uncovering its dusty old ghost towns, crumbling forts and deserted mills and mines.
Read on to discover the most fascinating Texan places lost in the foggy ruins of time. To enjoy these images FULL SCREEN, click the icon in the top right...
The remote, rugged expanses of Big Bend National Park are filled with wonders – among them this abandoned mercury mine, tipped as the best preserved site of its kind in the state. The mine boomed from the early 1900s right through to the 1940s, producing a staggering amount of mercury and providing jobs to local people.
However, after mercury prices plummeted, the mine suspended operations in 1943.
Now the mining site is protected as a National Register Historic District within the park, and you can reach it on a scenic and off-the-beaten-track drive on River Road East. You'll see a smattering of fascinating ruins, from old miners' homes and warehouses to an abandoned furnace and a blacksmith's shop.
There's something very eerie indeed about these graffiti-scrawled ruins, which unfold in the Angelina National Forest. The first (wooden) mill was built back in 1905, though it was replaced with this concrete structure after it burned down in 1911.
The area eventually grew to include houses, various office buildings and a hotel, but was subsequently abandoned when the mill closed in the 1920s. Now all that remains are the deserted husks of four mill buildings and parts of the old railroad tram.
You'd be forgiven for thinking that a UFO had landed in this grassy area of Royse City, a dinky settlement east of Dallas. This was the vision of Finnish architect Matti Suuronen, who created a series of otherworldly Futuro Houses in the 1960s. These small, prefabricated homes were designed to be popped up almost anywhere, and they were erected all over the world.
However, many people took a disliking to the futuristic architecture and most were left abandoned or destroyed. This one remains, a decrepit and graffitied shell that draws photographers (and the occasional curious traveller).
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Texas' most famous ghost town, Terlingua grew up around the Chisos Mining Company. The Chicago-owned company was established back in 1903 and soon became a major producer of mercury.
Business boomed through the first half of the century, especially during World War I, and Terlingua mushroomed into a buzzy town with a hotel, a school and plenty of housing for workers. However, production ultimately dipped and the operation was shuttered in the 1940s.
Now abandoned buildings litter the desert scrub, including St Agnes' church, with its squat steeple and lancet windows. You'll spot decaying old mining buildings and rusted cars too.
However, the Terlingua area isn't entirely deserted. There's a small yet creative community, and the Starlight Theatre restaurant and saloon is the tiny town's beating heart. Come by for live music, food and drink.
Few things are more haunting than an abandoned church. This stone shell likely dates back to the 1840s, when the town of D’Hanis was founded. It was always a tiny community, but it shrank even further when a railroad was built in the region and D'Hanis wasn't chosen as a stop.
Residents poured out and the town was left deserted, but faithful churchgoers continued to visit St Dominic's. However, the death knell was soon to come; the church was consumed by fire in 1912, so now this roofless structure is all that remains.
This soaring building – with its whitewashed walls and giant gold dome – is a surprising sight rising from the suburbs of Houston. It was the vision of Kwai Fun Wong, a Taoist leader who was deported before her plans for a sprawling shrine to the religion were complete.
It's been more than two decades since the project came to an abrupt end, and though the building escaped the wrecking ball, it was left to rot and moulder for years. However, it was eventually sold and plans are afoot to transform the head-turning edifice into an events venue. For now, though, it remains just a curious photo stop.
Georgetown's Old Williamson County Jail had a long run: it was in use for a century, operating from 1889 right up until 1989. It cuts an imposing figure, with sturdy stone walls and crenellations based on the infamous Bastille in Paris.
Some of the region's most fearsome criminals were incarcerated here, including convicted serial killer Henry Lee Lucas.
The building was eventually abandoned as a jail – but it's been listed as a historic landmark and was later filled with local offices. Now, though, the offices have been vacated once more and the old jail is a favoured spot for ghost hunts instead.
There are haunting tales aplenty here and visitors have reported hearing distant voices and footsteps.
You'll find these hulking ruins just northwest of the small city of Menard – they're all that remains of the Presidio of San Saba, a fortified settlement occupied by Spanish colonial soldiers from 1757 up until 1772, when it was abandoned. The structure was left to crumble for centuries, though partial restorations mean it's now likely to survive for posterity.
It's free to take a self-guided tour.
Another of Texas' fading ghost towns, Toyah was a thriving trading post and an important stop along the Texas and Pacific Railway from the late 1800s. It's thought that the town's population reached just over 1,000, but business here declined over the decades, especially during the Great Depression, and residents began to leave. Today less than 100 people call Toyah home.
A tornado also whipped through the town in 2004, decimating the already crumbling structures. Today, the most impressive building is a schoolhouse (pictured), which was built in 1912 and still remains remarkably intact. Legend has it, it's home to a few ghostly residents.
You surely wouldn't be able to resist hopping out of your car and snapping a photo with this gloriously retro motel sign. It stands tall along the US-90 in Marfa – a little town known for its quirky residents and experimental art installations.
Not much is known about the long-demolished motel it advertises, but it remains a wonderful vintage mirage in the desert, and it now sits by the entrance to an RV park.
The Texas-Indian wars raged on throughout the 19th century and Fort McKavett, now protected as the McKavett State Historic Site, was a Texan army military post from 1850 to 1875. Eventually the Texans won and Indigenous peoples were forcibly moved onto reservations.
After the conflict ended, the sprawling fort was abandoned.
Now the long-deserted buildings are preserved as a place for visitors to learn about this tumultuous portion of Texan history. The commanding officers’ quarters stand in ruins, as does a portion of the barracks, while buildings including a hospital, mortuary and schoolhouse have been well restored over the years.
You can explore them on a self-guided tour.
America has no shortage of chilling abandoned prisons: this one was built back in 1894 and is striking for its red sandstone exterior. The fortress was notoriously hard to escape from, and it held everyone from thieves to murderers.
Having been abandoned for decades, it's a popular photography pilgrimage, given how impressively intact its shell is. It's also one of the only remaining structures in the ghost town of Clairemont.
The wide open landscapes and fascinating rock formations of Big Bend Ranch State Park should be motive enough to come by – but this curious little ghost town on the banks of the Rio Grande is another reason to make the trip. These abandoned buildings make up Contrabando, an abandoned movie set used for films including Dead Man's Walk and Streets of Laredo.
The structures were first built in the 1980s for the comedy film Uphill All the Way. Not all the buildings were prefabricated, though. Among them is an original abode building known as 'La Casita'.
You'll find Contrabando just outside Redford, across the river from Mexico in the far west of the state.
A trip on Route 66 might lead you to the dusty desert town of Glenrio, which sits across the Texas-New Mexico border. Unlike the many Southwest towns that exploded when prospectors struck gold, Glenrio blossomed slowly, growing from the first years of the 20th century when the railroad came to town.
When the Mother Road was built, the small town's neon diners and quirky motels became a popular tourist pitstop.
Fast forward to 1975, and the construction of Interstate 40 some distance away from the town sent Glenrio into decline. Residents filed out, and what remains is the Glenrio Historic District: a huddle of abandoned diners, motels and bars that still fascinate visitors today.
Texas is just one part of Route 66's sad story – tumbleweed towns and deserted dreams across the west are all that's left of this iconic gateway to the Pacific.