In adventure sports, the folks that choose such activities, describe the experience of fun in two contrasting ways. There’s “type 1 fun” – which is, well, fun. And then there’s “type 2 fun” – which is fun to talk about after the fact, but not so fun in the actual moment. The adventure behind this session was certainly of the type 2 variety . . . so, allow me to have some fun telling you about it.

The plan was to end up in the gut of Jefferson Ravine, just upstream and off-trail from the infamous Six Husband’s route in the Presidential Range of New Hampshire. This would involve about a 4-mile trek up the Great Gulf Wilderness before its junction with Six Husbands. I’m familiar with this area, yet always manage to forget how cold, damp, and lacking of sunlight it seems to be. Despite all this, there I was. Drums in tow, slogging my way up the cold valley towards the ravine.

As the elevation increased the conditions became more type 2-ish. The woods were densely saturated filtering out all available sunlight. A light beam of warmth shining down on me was not in reality, only in my mind. There were multiple stream crossings which provided excellent moments to appreciate the coldness of the water. Even though it was the middle of summer, these waters were still flowing from ice melt found deep in the cracks of the ravine above. Of course, this ravine was the destination, the point of interest.

Once off trail, because the forest was so dense, the only way to make progress was to walk up the frigid river, sometimes in waist-deep water. I decided to sacrifice my footwear, dry to wet, in order to keep moving. This decision would lead to cold soggy feet for the next couple of days. But this was ok because now my cold fingers would have other body parts to commiserate with.

After heading upstream for a while, I started looking for a campsite. It wasn’t easy in this rugged terrain, but eventually, I found a flat shelf just big enough for my one-person tent. The location was remote and beautiful. It was nestled next to the stream and lined with damp spongey mosses. Over the next three days this nook became my home, a damp cold sunless home, but home nonetheless.

The weather was forecasted to be warm and mostly sunny with a chance for afternoon thunderstorms. In reality, it was three days of cold and wet. The temperature never came close to where you wanted it to be – I found myself dressed in down clothing most of the time. And sure, sunlight at times, but not where I was. There were multiple thunderstorms. Drenching rains, some with hail. I’d never heard hail fall on a drumset before. It sounded interesting. So the daily routine went like this: record until the sky turned dark, then cover up the drums, stash the electronics and dive into the tent for an hour or so until there was a break . . . reverse and repeat. I was happy to break this cycle and hike out on day three. Sometimes the ending of things is the most satisfying part.

I do believe a certain amount of struggle is necessary. It inspires better grooves, better art. It’s my hope that the edginess within these sounds will make its way into your music in a satisfying manner. Thanks for reading and happy music-ing.

I talk more about this session and include some voice-memo notes from the tent if you’re interested, over here.

Cheers,
Bill