I hate crowds. Not in a pretentious way. I just go outside to get away from people, and then I find people everywhere. So I’ve spent years hunting the spots that don’t show up on Pinterest. The ones you find through Forest Service maps, local tips, and wrong turns. Here are my favorites.
The Ruby Mountains in Nevada
Everyone goes to the Sierra. Nobody goes to the Rubies. They’re in northeast Nevada, accessed by a dirt road that washes out in spring. But in late summer? Alpine lakes. Wildflowers. Zero people.
I camped at Lamoille Lake. The trail is steep. The lake is cold. The fishing is unreal. I caught cutthroat trout and cooked them over a fire I built from driftwood. Didn’t see another person for two days. In August. That’s the Ruby Mountains.
The Driftless Area of Wisconsin
Glaciers missed this corner of the Midwest. The result is steep valleys, cold-water streams, and campsites that feel like Appalachia transplanted to the prairie.
I found a spot near Viroqua on a friend’s recommendation. Organic farm country. Amish buggies on the roads. A small creek with campsites hidden in the trees. The fireflies in June were so thick they looked like Christmas lights. I’ve never seen anything like it.
The Weminuche Wilderness Backcountry
Colorado’s largest wilderness. No roads. No trails maintained to tourist standards. Just raw mountains and lakes that require effort to reach.
I hiked 12 miles to a lake above treeline. The camping was primitive. The stars were violent in their brightness. I heard an elk bugle at dawn. The sound carried for miles. No campground, no fire ring, no amenities. Just leave-no-trace ethics and the willingness to work for it.
The Lost Coast of California
Highway 1 is famous. The Lost Coast is not. It’s the section too rugged for roads. You hike in or you don’t go.
I backpacked the King Range over three days. Black sand beaches. Seals on the rocks. Fog that rolls in fast and thick. The campsites are on the beach. Fires are allowed below high tide line with a permit. I cooked fish I caught in the surf. Woke up to waves. Fell asleep to waves. Everything else fell away.
The Ozark Highlands Trail in Arkansas
Not the Ozarks of Missouri fame. The Arkansas version. 200 miles of trail through wilderness that most people don’t know exists.
I section-hiked 30 miles near Ozone. Waterfalls. Bluffs. Campsites with fire rings that looked decades old. I met one other hiker in four days. He was 70 and had been coming here for 40 years. “Keep it secret,” he said. I’m trying.
The Gila Wilderness in New Mexico
Aldo Leopold’s old stomping grounds. The first wilderness area in the US. Hot springs. Cliff dwellings. Wolves.
I camped near a hot spring that fed into the Gila River. Soaked at night under stars. Hiked to cliff dwellings in the morning. The Mogollon people lived here 700 years ago. Their fire rings are still visible. Mine felt temporary by comparison. Which it is. That’s the point.
How to Find Your Own
Talk to rangers. Not visitor center staff — backcountry rangers. They know. Read Forest Service maps, not guidebooks. Follow dirt roads to their ends. Be willing to camp without a view. The best spots aren’t photogenic. They’re peaceful.
The Honest Truth
These spots aren’t hidden because they’re hard to find. They’re hidden because they require effort. Most people won’t drive dirt roads, hike 12 miles, or camp without amenities.
That’s why they’re special. And that’s why I’m sharing carefully.