A great example is outside Asheville. In this case, it's multiple deserted places that aren't old at all. They are ultra-posh neighborhoods, and, until a few years ago, they were being carved out of North Carolina mountainsides at an alarming rate. To make room for people with appetites for three car garages and four treeless acres all their own, developers were leveling the scenic beauty that brought people to region in the first place.
I'll spare you my diatribe about this self-destructive cycle. What's notable is that these developments came to a screeching halt when the economy faltered. The backhoes and double drum rollers pulled out, leaving behind empty lots and, more importantly, long, fresh-paved streets that navigate hillside terrain with twists and turns.
Philip Aschilman says, “It’s easy to find these places.” He hosts a Facebook group for skateboarders who have turned these deserted sites into their own private skate parks.
“I just go onto Google Earth and start searching around," he recently told Blue Ridge Outdoors, "Look for that telltale brown spot where all the trees have been freshly cut down around a neighborhood road."
Once Philip pinpoints a spot, he doesn't visit it alone. Conk your head against a sidewalk in one of these deserted neighborhoods, and the vultures might find you before anyone else. He takes a friend and also a push broom, which he uses to sweep away debris--nails, wood bits, and gravel. Since these were recently construction sites, they can be messy.
With the path clear, he positions the friend at the nearest intersecting road to watch for unexpected traffic. Then he hops on his board and carves his way down an empty hillside. Imagine coasting alone, doing ollies and slides along the way, a warm mountain breeze against your skin, the gentle woosh of your board's wheels on the new pavement, and in every direction, views meant for million dollar homes. This is deserted Appalachia at its best. This is a skater's paradise.