Maybe there’s an end goal within a journey. Or maybe, the journey itself is the end goal. Regardless. Within such adventures, we most likely will come across some resistance. We can brush up against things that are trying to stop us, trying to hold us back from our forward progress. In these instances, momentum can be stunted. We may fall down and get back up again many times over. This is natural. For in nature, this phenomenon is the norm. And we are part of nature. Therefore we are part of this phenomenon.

Clouds move swiftly until confronted by a mountain top. At this junction, friction is created, slowing the speed and changing the shape of the formations. Or more abstractly. The day is met with the night, so daylight must pause before continuing its illumination, or vice versa. And of course, the water flowing between rocks is doing so because it cannot go through them. It’s must be adaptable. To go over, around, or underneath without leaving its path. This is its reality, its fate.

When I venture out into the wilds to record these earthloops, I can reliably count on a certain amount of resistance. In remote places, there are always issues of things like weather, terrain, animal encounters, and the rest of it. On some level, these are forms of resistance. They are things that get in my way and slow me down. Though actually, I do enjoy these challenges. They’re part of what makes an adventure an adventure. But on this particular trip, I came across some unexpected resistance that was strangely out of place.

I think it’s safe to say, in these settings, people generally exude more open kindness. Nature has a soothing effect on our psyche, especially when combined with physical activity. Sure it can be hard work out there. Sometimes people aren’t overly friendly, but never unapproachable. In the few decades I’ve been hiking, I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced a single occurrence of unhealthy negativity in my human encounters. But this trip was different.

I was about halfway up the Dry River Trail to the south of Mt. Washington in the Whites of New Hampshire. It was a warm sunny day. Things were going well. Lolo, my dog, was just ahead of me. On these long hikes in this region, I usually keep her off-lease. Today was no different. She’s always good about staying with me. She’ll typically get excited by oncoming people (especially if they have a dog) and express her emotions with playful barking and stick chewing. If there’s another dog, she’ll try to play with them. These encounters tend to be pretty harmonious. Dog people understand other dog people, or so I thought.

We came up over a little knoll in the trail and discovered two male hikers with their dog. They were on their way down and moving quickly. Lolo jumped ahead to greet the other dog with some playful barks and lively body movement. It was a pretty average dog-to-dog interaction, nothing to be concerned about. I came up closer to these guys and offered my usual “hey, how’s it going” with a smile. Unexpectedly, one of the men became reactionary and aggressive. He started yelling at me. I can’t recall the exact wording, but it was fierce. Something along the lines of: “what the fuck dude? . . . control your dog, or I’ll have to control you, do you want me to kick your ass man? . . . go on, try me . . .” He clearly wanted to start a fight with me. It was scary. So I went with my natural reaction. Being introverted, and somewhat of a people pleaser, I didn’t say anything and just kept walking.

Now, I should mention that both of these guys were big dudes. Manly looking 6 foot plus guys with beards in their mid 20’s. Up against little old me, it’d be like bringing a knife to a gunfight. Not to mention, I don’t have a fighting bone in my body. I’m a peacemaker at heart. But thankfully, it didn’t escalate, and we continued on our separate ways. Although for the next few minutes, I was looking over my shoulder to make sure they didn’t come back for me. It was weird, to say the least, and caught me completely off guard.

This type of behavior was so out of place. In fact, upon reflection, I’d only really come across this type of aggression in my younger years, like back in college. Sometimes you’d see a couple dudes going at it. Back when testosterone levels were through the roof and combined with ludicrous amounts of alcohol. This was understandable. But here? Now? In adult life in the middle of nature’s serenity? In 2021? – a modern era where people seem to have awareness of things like fairness, equality, and acceptance? I was confused and somewhat heartbroken. Ignorantly, I had assumed that society had moved on from such things. I guess I was wrong.

As I worked my way up the valley for the next couple of hours, I had plenty of time to ruminate over the incident. In the end, I reasoned the situation to be that of imbalance. I believe that all humans are innately good and that “bad” humans exist only because of an imbalance. They’ve lost their way, their connection. Maybe these guys had been hiking for days on very little sleep. Maybe his girlfriend just broke up with him. Perhaps they blew through their stash and were jonesing for a fix. All these are likely and understandable possibilities. Certainly, valid reasons for creating an imbalance, especially in younger folks. And with this, I moved beyond the resistance and continued on my journey.

I arrived at the planned destination later that day, set up camp, and got to work on the recording. It was a lovely peaceful spot in a sun-drenched river bed. The water flow was just perfect. Not too loud or raucous for recording, and with cascades, falls, and pools. As I sat down at the kit and pressed the red button, I could feel the energy from the resistance I had experienced. I ended up playing harder than I usually do. Laying into the drums with more force. More energy. Maybe this was anger or frustration. I’m not sure. Sometimes these types of emotions can create positive outcomes in art. In many ways, art is a translation of emotions coming from the artist. Regardless, I can confidently say that the loops from this session contain energy that was shaped by an unexpected resistance, and in a good way. So I am thankful for this. And hope that you enjoy this transfer of energy as you bring these sounds into your own musical art.

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

Cheers,
Bill