Ghost towns don’t always stay ghostly. Across the world, once-thriving places were abandoned as mines closed, industries collapsed, or wars drove people away. Yet some have found a second life. Desert camps now buzz with artists, spa resorts welcome guests again and centuries-old villages have been lovingly restored. Some are lived in once more, others thrive as heritage attractions.
Click through this gallery to discover the abandoned towns that came back from the dead...
Perched on the edge of Big Bend, Terlingua sprang to life in the late 19th century when cinnabar deposits promised quick wealth. At its peak, it was home to 2,000 miners and their families, with a company store, schoolhouse and rows of adobe homes.
But when the Chisos Mining Company went bankrupt in 1942 and mercury prices plummeted, the town emptied almost overnight. By the 1960s, Terlingua was a ghost: sun-baked ruins, crumbling walls and desert silence.
Then, in the 1990s, local archaeologist Cynta de Narvaez bought an abandoned ruin and painstakingly transformed it into Villa Terlingua, a boutique compound that hosts guests, gatherings and artists.
Her project helped spark a wider revival, drawing both entrepreneurs and desert dreamers to settle here. Terlingua also gained notoriety for its annual chili cook-offs, which attract thousands each year with food, music and dancing under the stars. Once a silent ghost town, it now thrives as a quirky, lived-in desert destination.
Matera’s ancient cave dwellings, the Sassi, were once home to thousands living in cramped and often unsanitary conditions. By the mid-20th century, high infant mortality, disease and extreme poverty led the Italian government to label it the "shame of Italy."
In 1952, families were forcibly relocated to new housing projects, leaving the centuries-old cave quarters largely deserted and in danger of collapse.
From the 1980s onwards, a wave of restoration began bringing Matera’s ancient caves back to life. UNESCO World Heritage status in 1993 and the city’s role as European Capital of Culture in 2019 accelerated the transformation, turning once-derelict grottoes into atmospheric restaurants, galleries and boutique stays.
Among them is Corte San Pietro (pictured), a cave-hotel that perfectly captures Matera’s unique character.
Founded by Sweden in 1910 and sold to the Soviets in 1927, Pyramiden became a model Arctic mining town, complete with a cultural centre, sports hall, swimming pool, and the world’s northernmost Lenin statue.
At its peak in the 1980s, it housed over 1,000 residents. When coal operations ceased in 1998, the settlement was abandoned almost overnight, leaving behind a perfectly preserved Soviet outpost locked in permafrost.
Today, Pyramiden survives as a ghost town with a twist. Russian-run Trust Arktikugol reopened the port and renovated the local hotel (pictured), which now offers seasonal lodging, a bar and guided tours through the eerie remains of the school, theatre and communal canteen.
A handful of caretakers live there year-round, keeping the infrastructure running. For adventurous travellers, it’s part heritage site, part time capsule, offering a surreal glimpse of Soviet life above the Arctic Circle.
Barkerville sprang up almost overnight in 1862 when the Cariboo Gold Rush gripped British Columbia. At its peak, 5,000 people filled its wooden boardwalks. But when the gold petered out, so did the people.
Fires, closures and migration left the once-bustling town abandoned, with buildings collapsing into the wild.
Rescued from dereliction in the 1950s, Barkerville is now a living museum. Heritage interpreters, staff and a seasonal population bring the Gold Rush days to life, with blacksmiths, shops and boarding houses operating as they once did.
It’s both a working community and one of Canada’s most engaging heritage destinations, where history can be experienced rather than just observed.
At the start of the 20th century, Gwalia was a thriving gold-mining town, home to 1,200 people and boasting one of Australia’s deepest mines.
When the mine closed suddenly in 1963, nearly everyone left within days. Houses stood abandoned, with furniture and even crockery left behind – an eerie freeze-frame of life.
Today, a handful of residents keep Gwalia from slipping back into silence. Volunteers have breathed life into the Gwalia Museum, carefully restoring workers’ cottages and preserving the eerie atmosphere of the old gold camp.
At its heart stands Hoover House, designed in 1897 by the mine’s manager, Herbert Hoover – the very same Herbert Hoover who would become the 31st President of the United States. Now reborn as boutique accommodation and a visitor centre, it anchors a community that has turned Gwalia from ghost town into a remarkable heritage destination.
Perched on a crumbling cliff of volcanic tuff, Civita di Bagnoregio earned the nickname 'the dying city'. Constant landslides and erosion made it increasingly precarious, while residents left in search of stability and services.
By the late 20th century, only a dozen or so people remained in its medieval streets, accessible only by a long pedestrian bridge. Once-busy squares fell silent, and the town’s long-term survival looked doubtful.
A turning point came in 2013 when the commune introduced a modest fee to cross the bridge, funnelling revenue into maintenance and cliff stabilisation. The scheme transformed Civita into a managed-access destination, with visitors helping to secure its fragile future.
The town has since been used as a location in several films, adding cinematic cachet to its appeal, while UNESCO recognition is under discussion. Today, despite still only claiming a resident population of under 20 people, Civita thrives as a symbol of sustainable heritage tourism.
Pictured here in 1960, Walhalla was one of Australia’s richest gold towns in the late 1800s, with 4,000 residents and 10 hotels. By the 1950s, the last permanent resident had left, and the town was little more than a scattering of ruins in the bush.
Walhalla now has around 20 year-round residents and a thriving tourism economy. Locals have restored the old band rotunda, the fire station and even the railway, which reopened in 1994 and now winds through the mountains with scenic rides.
Visitors can explore the Long Tunnel Extended Gold Mine, wander historic cottages or stay overnight in charming B&Bs.
Founded in 1785 by industrialist David Dale, New Lanark grew into a model cotton-spinning village on the banks of Scotland's River Clyde. It became famous in the early 19th century under social reformer Robert Owen, who introduced progressive ideas such as workers’ housing, a school system and cooperative values.
But after the mills closed in 1968, the workforce departed and the once-thriving community fell silent. Many of its Georgian stone buildings slid into dereliction, and by the 1970s demolition was even considered. A beacon of industrial innovation now teetered on the brink of oblivion.
The New Lanark Trust, formed in 1974, led a careful restoration. Today the village is home once again to residents, with lived-in housing alongside a heritage centre, hotel and hydroelectric power scheme.
Recognised by UNESCO, New Lanark thrives as both a community and a model of heritage-led regeneration.
In the early 1990s, war turned Mostar’s old town into a battleground. The city’s 16th-century centrepiece, the stone arch of the Stari Most (Old Bridge), was shelled and collapsed into the Neretva River in 1993.
Thousands of residents fled or were displaced, and the Ottoman-era streets were left in ruins, their silence echoing the war’s devastation.
The international community rallied to rebuild. By 2004, Stari Most was reconstructed using original techniques, and the Old Town was inscribed by UNESCO in 2005.
Today, Mostar’s cobbled lanes bustle with residents, cafés and markets once again. The annual bridge-diving festival is now one of Mostar’s liveliest traditions, a thrilling symbol of the city's comeback.
In the Soviet era, Tskaltubo was a glamorous spa resort, attracting thousands with its radon baths and grand sanatoria. After the USSR collapsed, the resorts closed and the town was abandoned – its ornate halls decaying while displaced families from Abkhazia squatted in the ruins.
Now, Tskaltubo is stirring back to life. The grand Legends Tskaltubo Spa Resort (pictured) – once the Soviet Military Sanatorium – was refurbished and reopened in 2011 as a 4-star hotel, complete with modern wellness facilities inside its historic halls.
Other sanatoria are being stabilised for future restoration, while new housing has allowed displaced families to move out of the ruins. Slowly but surely, Tskaltubo is reclaiming its place as a lived-in spa town once again.
Perched on Cleopatra Hill, Jerome was a booming copper town with 15,000 residents at its height. When the Phelps Dodge copper mine shut down in the early 1950s, the population plunged, and Jerome became one of Arizona’s most famous ghost towns, its clapboard houses sliding into the valley.
Here it is pictured in 1960.
From the 1960s onwards, artists, musicians and free spirits trickled into Jerome, drawn by cheap rents and atmospheric ruins. They opened studios, cafés and galleries in the old mining shacks, gradually transforming the ghost town into a creative enclave.
Today, around 450 people live here year-round, supporting boutique inns, restaurants and one of Arizona’s most buzzing small-town arts scenes. Once abandoned and collapsing into the hillside, Jerome now thrives as a quirky mountain community with a strong cultural spirit.