Follow the boot prints to paradise

THE HEADLINE on the cover of Backpacker magazine was a grabber: “The Last UNKNOWN Places; 5 Hidden Paradises Where Nature Still Rules.” Wow! I bought the issue in a millisecond.

Inside, the article by Tracy Ross promised to reveal “five stunning backcountry stashes that are so rarely visited you’ll never have to deal with permits, noisy neighbors or guidebooks tipping off the crowds.”

But wait a minute. Ross and Backpacker were tipping off the crowds, weren’t they? Hidden paradises aren’t hidden once they’ve been touted to the whole world on the cover of a magazine.

But were they really places you and I would covet? The list included Marble Mountain Wilderness Area in Northern California, Ruby Mountains Wilderness in northeastern Nevada, Blue Range Primitive Area in Arizona, Lost River Range in Idaho and the Willmore Wilderness Park in Alberta, Canada.

They sounded plenty appealing, especially when it came to remoteness and isolation. The article noted the trout-stocked lakes of the Marbles; the shark-teeth ridges of the Rubies; the forested river valleys and wildlife of Willmore; the pinon pine and juniper country of the drier Blue Range; and the rugged terrain in Idaho.

But the fact is, at my age and in my lack of condition, paradise or not, they’re most likely safe from me.

You can’t blame magazines for compiling lists of the last, best places, or, as in the current issue of Outside magazine, “20 Dream Towns, Fit, Healthy, and Full of Adventure,” or “Top 100 Campsites in the U.S.A.” in CampingLife or, in National Geographic Adventure, “America’s Best Hikes & Drives, 11 Undiscovered Trails, 4 Energy-Smart Adventure Road Trips.” Americans have long loved lists -- the best dressed, the best movies of all time, David Letterman’s nightly Top 10.

Ranking geography got a huge boost with the publication by Rand-McNally in the 1980s of the famed “Places Rated Almanac,” which tests cities on a variety of criteria, including available healthcare, the cost of living, educational facilities and recreation. (Pity Yuba City, Calif. -- it tends to place at or near the bottom of the heap.)

But “the last unknown places”? There’s always been something of an ethical question about revealing such secrets, which really aren’t secrets, just spots known mostly to locals. From fishing holes to rock-climbing routes, anyone already in the know doesn’t always look kindly on tattletales. Once the list comes out, either in book form or a magazine (or in the case of climbing routes back in the day, by mimeograph), the hordes could descend. Paradise lost.

And yet the best of anything never really stays hidden for long. Climbers, often having big egos, want their world to know the great routes they have conquered. The same goes for anglers, and even hikers will boast of a discovery or two. People find out; they tell others.

Just be thankful that not everyone who gets the tip acts on it. Joanne Steele of the Siskiyou County Visitors’ Bureau is not worried about an influx to the Marble Mountains because of Backpacker’s list, although if a crowd showed up it might provide an economic boost to her area. “We’re so remote and unknown, you could double or triple the number of people who come here and you wouldn’t notice.”

Alas, that used to be the case with some of my favorite parts of the Sierra. Still, even in such well-traveled mountains, there are places that barely know the feel of boot prints. I could give you the lowdown on one incredible spot -- high on the flank of Mt. Clark -- but I won’t.

I remember commenting years ago to a veteran mountaineering friend that a Japanese team had finally managed to knock off what then was the highest unclimbed mountain in the world -- as I recall, a difficult Tibetan peak of some 25,000-plus feet.

“Well,” he said, “there will always be another.” Indeed, there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of unclimbed peaks in the Himalayas.

And despite what the magazine headlines say, there are hundreds or thousands of pristine unknown places left in the American wilderness. For now.