I keep a running list on my phone called “places that shouldn’t work as destinations but do.” It started as a joke after a friend spent $2,000 to visit a burning hole in the desert, but the list has grown to forty-three entries. Half of them involve fire, decay, or the phrase “technically illegal.” The strangest tourist attractions aren’t strange because they’re remote or beautiful—they’re strange because they represent the exact moment human plans collided with forces we couldn’t control, and instead of cleaning up the mess, we started selling tickets.
These places exist at the intersection of disaster, abandonment, and our inability to look away. Here are ten of them, along with the access details that matter when you’re actually planning the trip.
1. Door to Hell (Darvaza Gas Crater), Turkmenistan
A Soviet drilling accident in 1971 punched through a cavern of natural gas, and geologists decided the safest move was to light it on fire. They thought it would burn out in weeks. It’s still going. The Darvaza crater spans roughly 230 feet across and has become Turkmenistan’s most unlikely landmark—a desert inferno that draws visitors willing to navigate one of the world’s most restrictive visa regimes.
Getting there requires a 4WD convoy from Ashgabat, a government-approved guide, and the patience to deal with Turkmenistan’s famously opaque permit process. The government announced plans to extinguish the crater in 2022, citing environmental and health concerns, but as of 2026 the flames persist. Best visited at dusk when the glow is sharpest against the sand. Bring your own food and camping gear; there’s nothing out there but fire and silence.
2. Centralia, Pennsylvania, USA
The town above a coal seam that’s been burning since 1962. What started as routine landfill maintenance spiraled into an underground inferno that cracked roads, filled basements with carbon monoxide, and eventually condemned the entire town. Fewer than five residents remain.
The Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection monitors the fire but has no plan to extinguish it; the agency estimates it could burn for another 250 years. The U.S. Geological Survey has documented subsidence and ground instability across the former town site, and steam vents can appear suddenly through fractured pavement. The famous graffiti highway stretch of Route 61 was buried under tons of dirt in 2020 to deter trespassing, though sections remain visible. Public roads through the area are legal to visit, but the cracked pavement, sinkholes, and elevated carbon monoxide levels near vents are genuine hazards. No official travel advisory exists, but local authorities discourage exploration off paved surfaces. Go in fall when the smoke is most visible against cooler air.
3. Hashima Island (Gunkanjima), Japan
An abandoned coal-mining island off Nagasaki that looks like a concrete battleship rising from the sea—hence the nickname “Battleship Island.” At its peak in 1959, the island housed over 5,000 workers on less than 16 acres, making it one of the most densely populated places on Earth. The mine closed in 1974, and the island was left to decay. In 2015, UNESCO inscribed the site as part of Japan’s Meiji Industrial Revolution heritage, acknowledging both its industrial significance and the forced Korean and Chinese labor used during WWII—a history that remains politically contentious.
You can only visit on a sanctioned boat tour from Nagasaki, weather permitting. Access is limited to a small concrete pier and a single reinforced walkway; most of the island remains too structurally dangerous to explore. Tours book months ahead in peak season, and cancellations due to high seas are common. What you see from the designated viewing area is exactly what you get—crumbling apartment blocks and the skeletal remains of industry, no closer.
4. The Catacombs of Paris, France
Six million skeletons arranged in tunnels beneath the city, stacked like cordwood along roughly 200 miles of former limestone quarries. The bones were moved there starting in 1786 when Paris’s overcrowded cemeteries became a public health crisis. What makes the catacombs strange isn’t just the volume of human remains—it’s the care taken to arrange them. Femurs stacked in neat rows, skulls forming decorative patterns, plaques with morbid poetry inscribed in Latin.
The official tour covers about a mile and requires descending 131 steps into cool, damp air that stays around 57°F year-round. The illegal “cataphile” network of unmapped tunnels is a separate world entirely—do not attempt it without someone who knows the exits. The official catacombs are safe and heavily trafficked; the unofficial ones claim a few lost tourists every year. Book tickets weeks in advance through the official site; they sell out daily.
5. Fly Geyser, Nevada, USA
A man-made accident that turned into an alien landscape. In 1964, a geothermal test well was abandoned without being properly capped, and mineral-rich water began erupting through the surface. Decades of calcium carbonate deposits built terraces in shades of red, green, and yellow—colors caused by thermophilic algae that thrive in the scalding water.
Fly Geyser sits on private land within the Black Rock Desert. Access was restricted until 2016, when the land was acquired for conservation. Guided tours now run seasonally through a limited-entry permit system; advance reservations are required and sell out quickly for spring and fall slots. Expect surreal colors, photographers jockeying for angles at golden hour, and strict rules about staying on marked paths to preserve the fragile formations.
6. Varosha, Cyprus
A beach resort frozen in 1974. When Turkish forces invaded northern Cyprus, the residents of Varosha fled, and the Turkish military fenced off the entire district. For nearly fifty years, it sat untouched—hotel lobbies still set for guests who never arrived, storefronts with 1970s inventory rotting behind glass.
Partial reopening began in 2020 under the administration of the self-declared Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, a state recognized only by Turkey. As of 2026, visitors can walk a controlled section of the beachfront promenade and a few residential streets, but the majority of Varosha remains fenced and patrolled. Photography restrictions are enforced inconsistently, and straying from marked paths can result in detention. The ethics here are tangled—this is disputed territory, and tourism revenue flows to the occupying administration. The Republic of Cyprus considers visits illegal; tread carefully and understand the political context before you go.
7. Lake Natron, Tanzania
A salt lake so alkaline it can calcify animals that die in its waters, preserving them in eerie mineral shells. Photographer Nick Brandt documented the phenomenon in striking images that went viral—birds and bats turned to stone-like figures along the shoreline. The lake’s pH hovers near 10.5, fed by volcanic minerals from the Great Rift Valley, and surface temperatures can exceed 120°F.
Despite the harshness, Lake Natron is the primary breeding ground for East Africa’s lesser flamingos, which thrive in caustic water that keeps predators away. Visiting requires a 4WD from Arusha and a local guide; the nearest lodging is basic. The best time to visit is June through October, when temperatures drop below oppressive and flamingo breeding activity peaks. The lake itself isn’t dangerous if you’re not swimming in it, but the heat and remoteness demand preparation.
8. Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, Ukraine
The 1,000-square-mile zone around the 1986 nuclear disaster, now one of the most visited dark tourism sites in the world. Pripyat, the abandoned city built for plant workers, draws visitors to walk through crumbling schools, rusting amusement parks, and apartment blocks reclaimed by forest. Radiation levels are monitored closely, and official tours keep visitors on paths deemed safe for short-term exposure.
Access was formalized after Ukraine opened the zone to tourism in 2011. Tours were suspended during the 2022 conflict but resumed in late 2024 with updated security protocols and route restrictions based on demining progress. As of 2026, day trips run from Kyiv with licensed operators. You’ll pass through two checkpoints, carry a dosimeter, and sign liability waivers. Radiation exposure during a standard day tour is roughly equivalent to a long-haul flight—low but measurable. The strangeness isn’t the radiation; it’s how ordinary everything looks. A city stopped mid-sentence.
9. Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia
The world’s largest salt flat, 4,000 square miles of blinding white hexagonal tiles that stretch to the horizon. During the rainy season—December through April—a thin layer of water turns the surface into a perfect mirror, erasing the line between earth and sky. It’s disorienting, surreal, and exactly what Instagram was built for.
Beneath the salt lies one of the world’s largest lithium reserves, and the tension between tourism and mining is sharpening. Tours run from the town of Uyuni, ranging from day trips to multi-day expeditions that include high-altitude lagoons and flamingo colonies. Altitude sickness is real at 12,000 feet; acclimatize in La Paz or Sucre first. The mirror effect is spectacular but brief and weather-dependent; if you’re chasing that specific shot, build flexibility into your dates.
10. Kawah Ijen, Indonesia
A volcanic crater lake the color of antifreeze, glowing electric blue at night from combusting sulfuric gas. Miners climb into the crater daily to extract sulfur by hand—one of the most dangerous jobs on the planet—while tourists hike up at 2 a.m. to photograph the blue flames. The juxtaposition is jarring: natural wonder meets human desperation in the same frame.
The hike is steep, and sulfur fumes can be overwhelming without a gas mask (rent one at the base or bring your own). Guides are required, and the trek takes about two hours each way from the trailhead. Go between April and October to avoid monsoon rains that turn the trail into a mud chute. Respect the miners’ space—they’re working, not performing, and they’re carrying loads that would break most of us.
How we chose these
We prioritized places you can legally visit as of 2026, geographic spread, and the “huh” factor—that moment when human error, natural oddity, or historical accident collides with our inability to stop staring. Remote doesn’t mean strange. Strange means something broke in an interesting way.
Frequently asked questions
What are the most dangerous tourist attractions in the world?
Kawah Ijen’s sulfur exposure, Centralia’s unstable ground and gas vents, and certain zones within Chernobyl carry measurable risk. Most regulated “dangerous” sites manage hazards through required guides, permits, or access restrictions. The danger usually comes from ignoring those restrictions or visiting sites with no formal oversight.
Are strange tourist attractions safe to visit?
Depends entirely on the site and how you visit it. Official tours to Chernobyl, Hashima Island, and the Paris Catacombs are heavily regulated and statistically safe. Informal or abandoned sites like parts of Centralia carry higher risk because there’s no infrastructure monitoring conditions. Check current access rules, book with licensed operators where required, and don’t mistake popularity for safety.
Why do people seek out strange places?
Novelty, the hunger for something genuinely unusual in an over-photographed world, and the psychological draw of places associated with danger, death, or decay—what tourism researchers call “dark tourism.” It’s not new; people have visited disaster sites and ruins for centuries. Social media and cheap flights just accelerated it. Strange places also make better stories than beautiful ones. Nobody remembers your beach vacation, but they’ll remember the burning crater.
The strangest destinations were never designed to be destinations. They’re accidents, aftermaths, or natural extremes that happened to catch our attention and refuse to let go. If you’re wired to seek them out, do it with respect for what made them strange in the first place—and a realistic sense of what you’re walking into.