A quirky tribute to England’s megalithic landmark, Carhenge stands on the rural outskirts of Alliance, Nebraska. Created in 1987 by Jim Reinders as a memorial to his father, this structure comprises 39 vintage American cars arranged in a precise circle, akin to its British muse. The site’s vehicles, some buried trunk-first, others welded into arches, are all coated in gray paint to achieve a uniform, stone-like appearance, with a 1962 Cadillac serving as the heel stone.

Reinders, an engineer with a deep appreciation for unconventional art, was inspired during his time in England studying Stonehenge’s design. When his family gathered for a reunion in 1987, they took on the ambitious project of replicating the monument’s layout using salvaged automobiles. What began as a personal endeavor soon evolved into a roadside attraction that now draws thousands of visitors each year.

Though initially met with skepticism by locals and even considered for removal, Carhenge eventually won the community’s support. In 2013, the site was officially entrusted to the city of Alliance, securing its place as a permanent fixture of American folk art.

Beyond the main structure, Carhenge has expanded into the Car Art Reserve, a space showcasing additional automobile-based sculptures. Among these are Fourd Seasons, a piece inspired by Vivaldi’s composition and Nebraska’s agricultural cycle, and Spawning Salmon, a prize-winning creation by a Canadian artist.

Carhenge also served as one of the most memorable viewing sites for the 2017 solar eclipse, attracting countless attendees, including Nebraska’s governor.

Deep within the rolling countryside of Wairarapa lies Stonehenge Aotearoa, an astronomical structure that, despite its name, is not a replica of England’s famous monument but rather a fully functional observatory tailored to its specific location. Designed by the Phoenix Astronomical Society, this modern henge is primarily focused on education.

Inaugurated in 2005 after two years of construction with the help of dedicated volunteers, Stonehenge Aotearoa consists of 24 pillars forming a circle 30 meters in diameter, topped with lintels to complete its enclosure.

At its center stands a five-meter-tall obelisk, with six heel stones placed beyond the main structure to mark the rising and setting points of the Sun during solstices and equinoxes. Unlike its prehistoric counterpart, this henge is constructed from modern materials, concrete molded to resemble stone, yet its purpose remains the same: to track celestial movements with remarkable precision.

Beyond its scientific function, Stonehenge Aotearoa seeks to connect visitors to the astronomical traditions of various cultures. It incorporates knowledge from Egyptian and Babylonian astronomy, Polynesian navigation, and both Celtic and Māori star lore. At the heart of the site, visitors can observe how the Sun, Moon, and key stars align with the structure throughout the year, just as ancient civilizations once did to measure time, chart seasons, and navigate vast distances.

Open to the public, the henge offers self-guided visits and storytelling tours that explore celestial mechanics, mythology, and the ways in which early societies depended on the stars.

Tucked away in the woods near Barber Marina in Josephine, Alabama, a peculiar sight awaits curious onlookers: Bamahenge, a full-scale replica of England’s famed Stonehenge. Created by artist Mark Cline at the request of businessman George Barber, this fiberglass monument is modeled after the ancient structure, standing 21 feet tall and spanning 104 feet across.

Though not an exact copy, its design preserves the astronomical alignment of the original. In fact, if you stand within the circle at sunrise on the summer solstice, the sun will rise over the center of the entrance stones.

Barber, a billionaire with a penchant for unconventional creativity, first hired Cline in the 1990s to craft life-sized dinosaur sculptures for one of his properties. Years later, after seeing Cline’s Foamhenge installation in Virginia (next on this list), Barber decided Alabama needed its own version of Stonehenge.

The project took shape in 2012, with Cline constructing the massive fiberglass slabs in his Virginia studio before transporting them to Alabama on flatbed trucks. To ensure stability in the region’s hurricane-prone climate, each “stone” is anchored with a deep-set wooden post and reinforced with concrete.

Bamahenge is slightly hidden from view, nestled about 200 yards off the road, making its discovery feel like stumbling upon a secret. Unlike its ancient counterpart, which has withstood thousands of years, this modern homage is built for durability but remains vulnerable to the forces of nature.

Though often associated with the town of Elberta, its true location lies within the quiet, tree-lined community of Josephine. Visitors who make the short walk through the woods will find themselves face-to-face with an unexpected slice of England, standing stoically in the heart of Alabama.

At the entrance of Ada Ciganlija, a popular recreational area in the Serbian capital, passersby may initially mistake a cluster of rocks for a pile of debris. However, this formation, known locally as Ada Stonehenge, was crafted in 1992 by sculptor Ratko Vulanović. Inspired by the original monument in Wiltshire, it also holds a deeply personal connection to the artist’s past.

According to Vulanović, the design draws from childhood memories of a stone hearth in his family home, where stones were arranged in a circular formation for warmth and cooking.

While Ada Stonehenge loosely resembles its British namesake in form, it was never intended as a strict replica. Unlike the ancient monument, renowned for its precise astronomical alignment, this Serbian counterpart serves more as a symbolic tribute, both to Stonehenge and to Vulanović’s heritage.

Vulanović was a controversial figure in the Balkans, known not only for his art but also for his political and national identity. Though born in Montenegro, he later identified as an Orthodox Serb, a shift that led to tensions with Montenegrin authorities. His passing in 2023 at the age of 82 marked the end of a complex career that saw both recognition and resistance.

On the rugged terrain of Achill Island, off Ireland’s west coast, there is an imposing concrete structure that has sparked debate since its construction in 2011. Built without planning permission, Achill Henge consists of thirty towering slabs arranged in a ring, each over four meters high, spanning roughly 100 meters in circumference.

In contrast to traditional henges, which are ancient ceremonial sites, Achill Henge has neither historical nor archaeological ties to Ireland’s prehistoric past. Instead, it is the work of property developer Joe McNamara, who reportedly built it in just a weekend as a protest against the government’s handling of the financial crisis.

Authorities quickly challenged its legality, with Mayo County Council demanding its removal. McNamara argued that it was an ornamental garden and thus exempt from planning laws, but the courts disagreed, halting any further work on the site. Despite ongoing legal disputes, the structure remains standing, its future uncertain. While some see it as an eyesore disrupting the island’s natural beauty, others regard it as a modern landmark.

Nestled in a hollow and partially obscured by the surrounding landscape, Achill Henge is not easily visible from afar. Visitors must traverse a rough, uneven track to reach the site, but the effort is rewarded with striking views of the island’s mountains and coastline beyond the concrete pillars.

Ensconced in the verdant periphery of Centreville, Virginia, an unlikely sculpture rises from the earth, one that feels both familiar and absurd. This is Foamhenge, a full-scale replica of the prehistoric site, but instead of weathered megaliths, its towering monoliths are made entirely of Styrofoam.

The mastermind behind this peculiar landmark is Mark Cline, a Virginia-based artist renowned for his larger-than-life roadside creations. In 2004, he constructed Foamhenge in just ten days, a blink of an eye compared to the centuries-long saga of its prehistoric predecessor.

Though its material is featherlight, Cline took great care to ensure the structure matched the original in scale. For over a decade, it stood proudly at Natural Bridge, Virginia, a whimsical oddity among the region’s many historic sites.

But time, as it does, wore away at Foamhenge’s polystyrene pillars. When Natural Bridge became a state park in 2016, the whimsical monument was uprooted, its fate uncertain. Would this foam-and-fantasy marvel vanish into obscurity? Not if Cline had anything to say about it.

After fielding multiple offers, he relocated Foamhenge to Cox Farms, a sprawling family farm near Washington, D.C. The move wasn’t a simple reassembly; it required structural repairs, fresh paint, and the expertise of astronomer Harold Geller to ensure its solstice alignment remained intact.

Now a seasonal attraction, Foamhenge continues to draw visitors during Cox Farms’ fall festival and special events. What began as an eccentric roadside prank has since earned a place among America’s quirkiest landmarks. In 2022, it even secured a spot in a board game celebrating offbeat tourist sites, a testament to its enduring, if improbable, charm.

Nestled in the coastal town of Esperance, Western Australia, an unusual monolith adorns the landscape: a full-scale replica of Stonehenge, built not from millennia-old mystery but from sheer determination and, perhaps most importantly, a surplus of granite.

Unlike its weathered counterpart on the Salisbury Plain, Esperance Stonehenge offers a glimpse of the ancient monument as it might have first appeared, its 137 megaliths standing in precise formation. Each slab, some weighing up to 50 tons, was originally cut for an abandoned project in Margaret River before finding new purpose on the farmland of Kim and Jillian Beale. Rather than leaving the stones to gather dust, the couple took on the formidable task of reconstructing one of history’s most enigmatic structures.

As the granite circle is astronomically aligned, visitors can witness the solstice sun threading through its stones just as it would have thousands of years ago. Inside the ring, sound reverberates in ways that hint at the lost acoustic properties of the original.

Perched on a bluff near Carbury, Mystical Horizons seamlessly blends ancient astronomical traditions with modern engineering. Dubbed the “21st-century Stonehenge,” this open-air observatory was the brainchild of aerospace engineer Jack Olson, whose career spanned everything from Boeing’s Jetfoil to the Apollo Lunar Module’s landing pads. Though Olson passed away in 2001, construction moved forward thanks to local efforts, and Mystical Horizons officially opened in 2005.

The site’s six granite walls function as a solar calendar, with precisely cut slots that frame the sun only on the solstices and equinoxes, much like the celestial alignments of megalithic structures. A sighting tube points unerringly toward Polaris, allowing visitors to easily locate the North Star, while a human-sized sundial turns timekeeping into a hands-on experience. Informational plaques provide historical and scientific context about the centuries-old astronomical principles.

But Mystical Horizons is far more than just an educational tool; it’s also a vantage point. From its hilltop, the landscape unfolds into the Turtle Mountains and the prairie beyond, a rare spot where the curvature of the Earth becomes perceptible.

Though Olson himself approached the project with a pragmatic engineer’s mindset, the name “Mystical Horizons” was chosen to reflect the awe the location inspires, often described as an intersection of sky, land, and science.

Despite a career filled with patents and innovations, including the unexpected claim of designing Tupperware’s “pickle plucker,” Olson remains absent from the North Dakota Hall of Fame. Yet, in a quiet corner of the state, his vision is alive and kicking.