I grew up on the side of a mountain. Maybe 15 houses on a 1 mile stretch of hard surface road, and maybe 3 or 4 more at the top that were on the extended dirt road. Forest in front and forest in back of the house. In the winter the road became our Black Diamond ski slope. When it snowed we knew few cars would even try to come up and the city would not bother to plow it for a week or more after a snow. Little to no crime to speak of. Unless you count the asshole that lived on the back side of the mountain. That fucker would set his property on fire on purpose to clear the brush, stand back and let nature put it out. It was scary at times, often it would burn for several days. You could see the blaze from the other side of town. Fortunately no one else's property was ever affected and no one got hurt but the burnt smoke smell would hang around for weeks afterward.