The USA is famed for its larger-than-life theme parks – but not all of them have had staying power and, like America's Gold Rush-era ghost towns, these abandoned attractions have an intrigue all of their own. From a forgotten Holy Land to a slew of fated water parks, we peek inside some of America's deserted adventure playgrounds.

The Hurricane, a 100-foot-tall (30m) wooden roller coaster, was the main attraction at Boomers! Park in Dania Beach. It was the longest wooden roller coaster in Florida when it first opened in 2000 and, although it was part of the Boomers! Park, it was owned and operated independently. It was shut down by its operators in 2011 with the owners citing "business reasons". It's thought the humid climate in Florida made maintaining the roller coaster unviable.

The rest of the park stayed open, attracting visitors to its colourful mini-golf course and arcades until April 2015, when the park was closed. It was reported that new developers would invest in a £189 million-project ($250m) called The Landings. The development would have retail stores, restaurants, at least one hotel, plenty of apartments and possibly even offices. 

The park had laid dormant for long enough to let the vegetation take over a little. Although several plans to demolish the roller coaster and the buildings on site had been made over the years, it wasn't until recently that new development started taking shape. Now called Dania Pointe, it's a 102-acre space with offices, luxury apartments, retail stores and restaurants.

Not to be confused with the still-operating Joyland in Texas, this family-focused park was founded in 1949 by race-car mechanic Lester Ottaway and his sons. A toy steam train, Wurlitzer-style organ, mighty wooden roller coaster and twirling carousel drew in the crowds, and the park went from strength to strength.

In the 1970s, after Ottaway passed away and his sons retired, the park was sold to Stanley and Margaret Nelson. By 1974, they had introduced what would become the site's most well-loved attraction: the Whacky Shack. The haunted-house-esque ride saw cars rattle through a whimsical hut, with wonky chimneys and haphazard windows. Popular, too, was the Tilt-A-Whirl, a spinning attraction similar to the teacups.

The fun was destined to stop though, as steep costs and dwindling visitor numbers forced the Nelsons to close the park in 2006. Various attractions have now been donated or sold to preservation societies or museums, but the site is still dotted with some ruinous rides and peeling ticket boxes, which stir nostalgia in long-time Wichita residents. However, the abandoned park could be given new life as plans to redevelop the site with carnival rides and a paintball range are now afloat.

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The site of Lake Shawnee has a dark history that predates the park. The bloodshed begins with the Clay family who, in the 18th century, settled on this land, which belonged to a Native American tribe. Mitchell Clay and his wife had 14 young children and, in 1783, tribespeople captured and killed two of them. Bereft and enraged, Clay continued the carnage by murdering several of the native peoples.

More than a century later – and ignorant of the site’s macabre past – entrepreneur Conley Snidow bought the land with the intention of establishing a theme park here. Lake Shawnee Amusement Park opened in the 1920s, finished with a giant Ferris wheel, a swing carousel, a vast swimming pool and other kitsch attractions. But the bloodshed was to continue. Over the years, numerous patrons died on the purportedly “cursed” site, including a young girl who was hit by a truck as she played on the swings, and a little boy who drowned in the pool.

The fated park finally closed in 1966. Yet in the 1980s, the by-then rusting site was snapped up once more by businessman Gaylord White. He intended to return the park to its former glory but, when construction began, White’s workers found humans remains and Native American artefacts, and the project was promptly abandoned. Long left to waste and moulder, the park now attracts a different kind of thrill seeker: tours run here regularly, regaling the site’s spine-chilling tale.

Built in the late 1960s by eccentric estate agent O.J. Snow, this curious theme park was based on comic strip Li'l Abner, which followed the lives of rural folk in the fictional town of Dogpatch. Eschewing the extravagant coasters and thrill rides of competing parks, Dogpatch was a land of lazy rivers, rickety water slides and quaint candy shops. But it was hapless from the start. Its low-key vibe failed to attract the paying public and the park was passed between owners, fading all the while.

Eventually, its time was up, and the gates were closed in 1993. Shortly afterwards, the owners attempted to sell the park on eBay, but its decaying slides, creaking shells and character statues garnered no interest. Today the site has a new owner, and though it remains in a sorry state for now, the idea of its restoration and reopening has been floated over the years. There's now even a documentary film about the park, too, and hopes that there'll be a happy ending for this sorry story. 

Built in the 1950s, and intended to resemble the spiritual town of Bethlehem, Holy Land was the vision of catholic John Baptist Greco. Greco imagined the roadside park as a pious site, and filled it with religious relics and an interpretation of the Garden of Eden. It was best known for its Hollywood-esque sign, informing visitors they’d reached the “Holy Land”.

In 1984, following three successful decades, the park closed for a brief spell of renovation. Greco’s vision of expansion was short lived though, since he sadly died not long after, in 1986. On his death, the site was passed on to a group of local nuns and despite their best efforts, it fell foul of theft and vandalism, and was never reopened to the public.

Today, little remains of the hallowed site, bar a few towering metal crosses, crumpled stonework and eroding vestiges of original holy monuments. However, a local group now hopes to revive and reopen the park, so its future remains to be seen.

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Lincoln Park opened in 1894 as a no-frills amusement area – it was intended as a stopping point for passengers of a trolley line which ran from Fall River out west to New Bedford. It boasted little more than a few picnic benches and a small playground. But as the site grew in popularity, owners seized on the opportunity to expand it, and by the early 1900s there was a dazzling carousel and a dance hall too. Yet it wasn’t until the 1940s that the park really had its heyday.

In 1941, it was bought by a company named John Collins & Associates, and their sizeable cash injection allowed for state-of-the-art new rides and a sprawling leisure complex. The star of the show was the Comet, a gargantuan wooden coaster stretching for 3,000 feet (914m). But this new-fangled ride ultimately spelled disaster for the once-thriving park: in 1964, a man stood up during a ride on the Comet and was killed.

Four years later, one of the coaster’s cars derailed and several people sustained injuries – faith in the park’s safety steadily began to wane. In 1986, owners invested thousands into safety checking and revamping all the rides, but a year later the Comet malfunctioned again, and was finally shut down. Without its top attraction, the park was unable to survive, and closed entirely. Rides were sold off, but the Comet was left behind, swallowed by trees and battered by rain. The coaster was finally demolished in 2012, purportedly to make space for new developments.

Rose Island was first opened in the Roaring Twenties, and was the vision of mogul David Rose. The site, in fact, isn't an island at all, but a picturesque area that had earned the nickname “Fern Grove” for its abundant vegetation. Rose filled the space with a sizeable swimming pool, ritzy hotel, wooden roller coaster and pocket-sized zoo, and the visitors soon followed.

However, it was mother nature that would sound this park’s death knell. In 1937, the fierce Ohio River flood wrecked the park, leaving it swamped in some 10 feet (3m) of water. The site was beyond repair, and it was left to perish. Now a handful of traces remain, including a dried-out swimming pool and the remnants of a stone fountain. Though the original bridge collapsed, a new one was built to allow public access to the historic site.

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Geauga Lake dates right back to the 1880s, beginning life as a picnic area and a cluster of small amusements. A few bigger thrill rides were added in the 1920s – an early attraction was the Big Dipper roller coaster, which remained a favourite for decades, even when more elaborate rides began to spring up around it. The park continued to expand rapidly, and when Premier Parks (later Six Flags) bought the site in 1995, Geauga Lake was on track to become one of the biggest theme parks of all time.

In a bid to establish itself as the USA's top theme park, Six Flags snapped up SeaWorld Ohio, just across the river, and added a water park too. By 2001, Geauga Lake, now named Six Flags Worlds of Adventure, was a gargantuan site. But, as it turns out, the plans may have been a little overambitious, and Six Flags soon announced that they were selling the site to theme-park heavyweights Cedar Fair.

But despite axing the marine shows and giving the park a thorough re-branding, Cedar Fair was forced to close the entire park by 2016. Some attractions were auctioned and others were left to erode. Few relics now remain, but wistful visitors can see a plaque commemorating the retired park. There have also been reports that homes, commercial lots and office space will soon be built on the site.

Dating back to the 1850s, the Williams Grove Amusement Park began life as a small recreation area, popular with picnickers. By 1928, the Williams family, the park’s owners and namesake, began adding rides of increasing size and splendour and in 1933, the ever-popular Cyclone, a dizzying wooden roller coaster, became the park’s crown jewel. A speedway was also opened next to the site.

In 1972 the park was sold to a man named Morgan Hughes, and it immediately seemed as though the writing was on the wall. Hurricane Agnes tore through the site in the very same year, leaving it devastated. A tenacious Hughes did not give up, though, and the park was repaired, remaining open for another three decades.

However, by 2005, Hughes wanted to scale things down a notch, and made the decision to close the park, pouring all his energy into the still-running speedway. Various rides were sold off, but the Cyclone, among others, still lingers, suffocated by trees and crumbling more by the day. The abandoned site is off limits to the public, though it has occasionally been opened for special events. 

Chippewa Lake Amusement Park had a good run. It opened in 1878, and its story spans an entire century. It began as a humble resort with a ballroom, steamboat and a roller coaster that relied on manpower to reset it after every ride. But after the turn of the century, Chippewa was acquired by ambitious businessman Mac Beach who catapulted modest Chippewa Lake into the 1900s.

A Ferris wheel, a modern Big Dipper and a beloved Tumble Bug joined the ranks, and fast-food shacks and vibrant ticket booths peppered the site. The Hotel Chippewa was another highlight, and the park established itself as a must-visit. Eventually, an ageing Beach sold his park onto Continental Business Enterprises in 1969 but despite an ambitious set of plans from the new owners, local interest dimmed.

In 1978, CBE closed Chippewa Lake, leaving it to be another ruin ravaged by nature. Trees broke the backs of roller coasters and fell through the roofing of derelict ticket booths, and weeds forced their way into every crevice. The historic ballroom and hotel were eventually also destroyed by fire. Though various redevelopment plans have surfaced over the years, none of them have stuck – the site was chosen as the location for 2010 horror film Closed for the Season, but otherwise remains in disuse. 

The Six Flags New Orleans theme park still stands as a stark reminder of the power of Mother Nature. Its short life began in the year 2000, when it opened as Jazzland – it was a cluster of gravity-defying thrill rides, family favourites and French Quarter-inspired architecture that quickly earned favour with locals. By 2003, it had been bought up by the Six Flags corporation, who expanded its already impressive portfolio of attractions.

But in 2005, Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. The storm ripped through the Six Flags site wrecking rides, crumbling ticket booths and leaving a devastated park wasting in nearly seven feet of water. Unsalvageable, the park has stood abandoned ever since, its once splendid rides peeling and plastered in graffiti. Though closed to the public since the storm, the site remains a magnet for thrill-seeking trespassers who weave their way between the crumbling coasters and peek into the weather-beaten buildings.

Today, its future remains uncertain, with talks of the park being demolished. Nickelodeon is just one of the companies that declared plans to revamp the theme park, before eventually pulling out. Another recent proposal suggests turning the site into an eco-tourism park dedicated to educating the public on climate change, though no plans have been firmed up. It has also served as a filming location for blockbusters including Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and Jurassic World.

 

This once-colourful tangle of pools and water slides opened to the public in 1962, focused around a man-made lake and plonked in the unforgiving Mojave Desert. The park (later known as Rock-A-Hoola) swelled over the coming decades: more garish water rides were added, and so was a speeding zip line and an indoor arcade area. However, interest in the park eventually dried up, and its expanse was left to the mercy of the desert by the end of the 1980s.

The Mojave’s scorching sun peeled at the paint of polished slides, and once brimming pools stood parched. But in the 1990s, the park was bought up once more, and a huge cash injection transformed it from a torrid desert wasteland to a retro, Route-66-themed adventure playground. The future of the park looked bright once more.