Looking Back on 2025: Wrapping Up the Abandoned Mississippi Series
- Jason Lykins
- Dec 21, 2025
- 8 min read
As I get ready to release the final three books in the Abandoned Mississippi series, I'm taking a moment to reflect on 2025. This was the year I chased down the last few spots to photograph—some I'd planned for months, others were total surprises that popped up along the way. One of the wildest surprises came early in the year at a rundown old resort. (Note: This one wasn't in Mississippi—it was a quick detour while I was traveling nearby.) The place was in rough shape: overgrown, falling apart, and honestly not worth a ton of photos. But I was in the area, so I figured I'd sneak in for a quick look. I was upstairs in one of the rooms when I first spotted him—a guy swinging a machete around. My heart dropped. Thank goodness I saw him before he saw me. I had no clue if he was friendly or not, so I stayed quiet and watched from my hiding spot. When he moved out of sight, I started backing out the same way I'd come in—super slow and careful, retracing my steps. There was only one entrance and one exit, which made it tricky. Then, bam, I spotted him again. I ducked behind trees and bushes to stay hidden. I felt like I was in some stealth video game, planning every move. At one point, I was only about 10 feet away from him, and he had no idea I was there. Whenever his back was turned—chopping wood or whatever—I'd creep forward a bit more. This game of hide-and-seek went on for a solid 45 minutes. Finally, I got far enough away to just walk normally. I stuck close to the fence line until I slipped out the gate. I was so relieved to be out of there safe, but also a little bummed—I didn't get to shoot as much as I'd hoped. Safety first, though. Onward to the next one!(February adventures coming next...)
The Oaks
One of my favorite stops in 2025 wasn't even an abandoned spot—it was a total change of pace in Tuskegee, Alabama. I'd passed through here before and driven by The Oaks, the historic home of Booker T. Washington, right on the Tuskegee University campus (actually across the street from the main buildings). Last time, it was closed up and looking a bit worn down from the outside. This trip, luck was on my side. A National Park Service ranger was there, and she gave me a private tour of the whole house. I hung on every word as she walked me through the rooms, pointed out the original furniture, and shared stories about Washington's family life and some little-known details. It was fascinating—I was so caught up in it all that I only snapped one quick photo inside. Some urban explorer photographer I turned out to be that day! I did have a bunch of good exterior shots from my previous visit, though. If I'm ever back in the area, I'll definitely try to time it right for another tour and do a better job capturing the inside.
I'd been to this abandoned water park years and years ago. Back then, it was like time had frozen right before opening day—the deck chairs were still stacked in their plastic bundles, looking like the delivery truck had just dropped them off. This time around in 2025, things had changed a lot. Vandals had tossed those chairs into the main pool, which was now full of thick green algae. Parts of the water slides were missing entirely, or they'd collapsed under their own weight and crashed to the ground. The biggest surprise came when I carefully crossed a broken bridge to reach the kids' area. There was a guy sitting there, casually fishing in what used to be the kiddie pool! We chatted for a bit—he was friendly enough—and then we both went back to what we were doing. He kept fishing, and I kept exploring. I spent the rest of the time reshooting all the spots from my first visit: the empty pools, the overgrown lazy river, and those big colorful slides. On my way out, I waved at the fisherman and hit the road. It's amazing how fast these places fall apart once they're left alone.
In April, I was down in New Orleans and decided to swing by the old Holy Cross School in the Lower Ninth Ward. The last time I'd explored it (years ago), the place was a total wreck—devastated by Hurricane Katrina, collapsing in on itself, basically a pile of ruins. To my surprise, it had been completely refurbished. The historic building is now turned into apartments for rent, giving new life to a spot that was once left for dead. The transformation was incredible: from a flooded-out boys' school to modern housing that's sheltering families again. This is one of those rare times when I'm glad I documented a place before it changed for the better—in this case, restored and repurposed instead of demolished. Usually, I'm capturing these spots right before they're gone forever.
Finally, five months into the year, I made it back to Mississippi. Talk about priorities—this is the heart of the whole series! I was on the east side of the state, and way off in the woods sat this old school. And when I say old, I mean old. Inside, there was a photo on the wall of the graduating class from 1939. No idea if that was the first class or the tenth—it was just hanging there, frozen in time. The coolest part? The photo included a picture of the school itself back then. You could see it looking proud and new, full of life. Now, it's completely overgrown with vines and trees swallowing it up, the roof sagging, walls crumbling. Total decay. Standing there, I couldn't help but wonder: Where did those 1939 graduates end up? What kinds of lives did they live after walking out those doors for the last time?
In June, I finally made it to Clarksdale High School in Mississippi. I'd hoped it might be the one Morgan Freeman attended back in the day, but nope—it wasn't. Oh well. I've explored a lot of schools, both open and abandoned, but I've never walked into one where you have to pass right by a cemetery to get there. Turns out, when the land was donated for the school, part of the deal was to leave the old headstones exactly where they were. So there it sits—a quiet graveyard on the grounds, a daily reminder for students (back when it was open) about how short life really is. Another cool surprise: the basketball gym was on the second floor. That was a first for me—usually they're on the ground level. Up on the third floor, there was a small stage set up for theater performances. And outside, the whole building is getting swallowed by thick vines creeping up the walls.It was an epic explore from start to finish.
One of the best parts of exploring is those random "finds" that just pop up when you're not even looking. In July, that's exactly what happened—I spotted an old Willys Jeep from the late 1940s deep in the Mississippi woods. If you've been doing this long enough, you develop an eye for it. Your head's always swiveling on those back roads, scanning the trees. I caught a quick glimpse of this beauty about 50 feet off the road, half-hidden among the trunks. Aside from a full-grown tree now adorning the hood, the exterior was in remarkably good shape. No major rust holes, paint still holding on in spots—it looked like it could almost fire up with a little work. Man, I wished I'd had a trailer hooked up (and permission from whoever owns the land) to haul it home. What a score that would've been!
In August, I stumbled across what looked like a classic abandoned spot—an old outdoor venue for food, fun, and live music. The grass was tall, and there were antique trailers scattered around, a weathered stage, and some rundown buildings. My explorer senses were tingling. But when I started chatting with some locals, they set me straight: it wasn't abandoned at all! The high grass, the vintage trailers, the rustic stage—everything was intentional. It's designed to have that cool, retro, lived-in charm. It's actually an awesome place to visit, full of character. I vowed right then to come back for one of their events—catch some live music, grab some food, and soak in the vibe.Sometimes the best "finds" aren't abandoned... they're just perfectly quirky.
In September, I headed back into the Mississippi Delta to check on Po' Monkey's Lounge—one of the most legendary juke joints around, way out in the cotton fields near Merigold. Sadly, it's in rough shape now. Part of the door is missing, and it looks like nothing's been done to it in years. This was the spot for blues in the Delta for decades, a real piece of history. It was mostly a DJ spot with soul and blues cranked up, but live acts played there too—like Big George Brock and other local legends who kept the tradition going. It helped nurture the whole Delta blues scene back in the day. I'm really sorry I never made it inside when it was open. The end of an era for sure. If I ever figure out time travel, this place is high on my list to go back and experience.
In October, I was back in the Mississippi Delta to watch my daughter cheer on her team. On the drive home, I took the scenic route and spotted this little church not far off the road. As I got closer (without my glasses on, mind you), I realized something wild: the entire steeple had flipped upside down and crashed straight through the roof, spearing all the way to the floor. It was like the roof had just given up one day. I thought I'd have to climb through a window to get in, but then I noticed what looked like a solid vine-covered wall was actually an open doorway hidden under thick growth. I grabbed my knife, cut through the vines, and slipped inside. I stuck to the front of the church for photos—the pews, the altar area, anything safe. No way was I getting anywhere near that crash site in the middle. Too risky with all that damage overhead. Nature's really taking over these old Delta churches fast.
Well, folks, that's a wrap on my 2025 exploring adventures. November and December came and went without a single new spot checked off the list. No sneaking through vines, no dodging machete guys, no random Jeeps in the woods or upside-down steeples. Am I even a real explorer anymore? Haha, maybe not this fall—but I've got a pretty good excuse. Between promoting the two books that dropped this year and gearing up for the final three in the Abandoned Mississippi series (plus whatever else is cooking), I've been buried in edits, layouts, proofs, and all the behind-the-scenes stuff that turns photos and stories into actual books. Next year? It's gonna be just as packed—and I wouldn't have it any other way. I've got one manuscript due by March and two more that need to be finished and turned in by the end of 2026. Busy is good. Busy means more stories, more photos, and more forgotten places saved on the page before they're gone for good. Thanks for following along on this wild 2025 ride—from heart-pounding close calls to quiet moments wondering about 1939 graduates and Delta blues legends. Can't wait to share the next chapters (literally) with y'all.If you're looking for a last-minute gift or just something cool to flip through over the holidays, grab one of the books. The exploring might slow down sometimes, but the stories keep coming. See you out there in 2026—boots, camera, and all.
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