When he heard I wanted to write a guidebook, my downstairs neighbor said, "Send the tourists to the Schilthorn; it's already ruined!" A heated discussion followed, during which I never quite convinced him that, with the right advice, they wouldn't also ruin all my favorite places, including the somewhat sacred Back Lauterbrunnen Valley. He remained firm in his stance, even though I pointed out to him that only the more intelligent travellers were going to go out and pick up a guidebook, anyway, and these smart ones would be likely to follow my advice. I accepted our stalemate, though, because the neighbor, being a Swiss person, had more right to an opinion about how to exploit his own country than I did.

It's not a story about picking wildflowers or about leaving your trash where it doesn't belong. Most people (even tourists!) already know not to do those things. What I think he was concerned about, and rightfully so, was "people" pollution. The wilderness just isn't that wild anymore because people are everywhere. Their presence disturbs the actual nature, and it also detracts from their own enjoyment of the nature.

A classic example was the day a friend and I set out for Tanzbödeli, a football field-sized plateau that crests the Busengrat (ridge). During our slow-going approach to the top in the summer heat, we saw not one but two large groups of people run straight down the hill, off the path, screaming like banshees because, I guess, it seemed like the thing to do. The number one problem with this is that any ibex, chamois or marmots that are in the area are going to run away, scared by the noise. Picture it on a large scale: the people keep coming, and the animals keep running--until they've disappeared from the Alps entirely. Problem number two is the plantlife, possibly even rare plantlife, that they could damage by leaving the trail. Stay on the trail! The third thing is that having all these noisy people around disturbs my peace; if I wanted to be around a lot of people, I'd go to the city. (And the last thing, which I don't really want to go into because all the boring safety stuff was supposed to be over with after the last section, is that the one guy fell and hurt his arm, lucky by comparison to the things that could happen to a person being so careless in a place as precipitous as Tanzbödeli.)

Instead of going all the way to the top, where, from the looks of things, a party surely would've been underway, Patty and I headed back down and took the turn-off for Busenalp. After the traffic on the main path, Busenalp, well worth the walking time in excess of the inaccurate sign-posting, was like a lost paradise at some forgotten end of the earth. This alp is no longer manned in summer, and the locals like to joke that it's because of the legendary Busechatz. But I didn't see any mean, man-eating cat "many times bigger than the normal one." I just saw a sea of wildflowers, a new perspective on the Jungfrau and the Schwarzmönch, and quiet solitude in which to enjoy it.

I wouldn't labor the point except for the fact that I myself know what it's like to be a North American--how hard it is to keep from belting out songs from the "Sound of Music" the minute you find yourself surrounded by incredible mountain vistas. It's even harder when you go into the mountains in large groups, but two people can even sometimes make the noise of six. You want to be able to hear the rushing of that mountain stream and the humming of the bees on the wildflowers. If you come across other people, say hello and continue on your way. The animated discussions and delightfully raucous parties can still happen back in whatever town you're based in, but they don't need to happen out in the wilderness, right? You're out there, theoretically, to appreciate nature. (Okay, I am your mom.)

The people pollution problem doesn't limit itself strictly to remote mountain paths, however. I was down in Gimmelwald one summer night and noticed that this small farming village had been miraculously turned into a North American university town. Sure, everybody wants to go stay in Gimmelwald because Gimmelwald is beautiful, but it's not beautiful anymore at the height of summer season. It's a little Alpine Hell. If you're looking for a Swiss farming village and arrive to find millions of North Americans, try to be flexible. Also nearby is a little-known but equally beautiful place called Spielbodenalp; go there if Gimmelwald is "full." And if that's full, consider moving on to the Rotstock Hut. It's just a question of proper space-utilization, really. If the tourists are aware of the alternatives and can spread themselves around, Gimmelwald, like the alpine wilderness, will be saved.

Meanwhile, your own remote corner of the Alps still waits to be found.