A short post today, for a short piece. First off, one thing to be clear about is this is not Newcastle upon Tyne, UK Soundwalk. This is Newcastle, Northern Ireland, UK, at the foot of the enchanting Mourne Mountains. It’s quite a charming little seaside town. Not too posh, not too shabby. Maybe this even comes through in the environmental recording?

Newcastle just feels so tucked-in. You can hop on the trail that starts just above sea level on the south end of town and hike all the way up to Slieve Donard, Northern Ireland’s tallest peak. Pretty remarkable really, and a stunning landscape.

I did make a recording of said hike, but have not set about composing music for it yet.

This short vignette of a piece came with the same sense of discovery and happenstance that accompanied landing in the little town by chance for a night last summer.

Thanks for tuning in. Newcastle UK Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services today, July 24th, 2026

PS. Last week I released another miniature album. Otter Point marries the sounds of the southern Oregon Cast with a composition for electric piano, synth, and dulcimer that plays well with this one, I think. Otter Point is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all music streaming services as of July 17th, 2026.

Maple Pass is a mountain pass loop trail in North Cascades National Park. It’s 6.8 miles, rated hard, and scores a 4.9/5 on alltrails.com. It’s about as good as it gets, really. I went there with my son a year ago now, to the day. It was great. Clear skies, warm sun, wildflowers in bloom, birds singing.

A few weeks ago I mentioned a nearby hike, Cascade Pass, that didn’t go down quite like we hoped. This one happily exceeded all expectations.

The trail rises from Rainy Pass, a subordinate saddle to the Cascade range divide about 5 miles to the east, at Washington Pass. Here the Pacific Crest Trail crosses Hwy 20 on its final 60 mile push toward the Canadian border.

Emerging from the subalpine conifers, the trail traverses alongside Lake Ann, an emerald pool in a cirque with a picturesque tiny island.

I am a slower climber than my son but I tried to keep apace, fighting the urge to stop and just listen for a spell.

Warbling Vireo, Hermit Thrush, Western Wood Pewee, Dark-eyed Junco, Canada Jay and the peculiarly raspy (to my ear) Mountain Chickadee are heard along the trail. And, of course, the scrunch, scrunch of footsteps on the coarse trail.

Climbing to Maple Pass, the trail affords vistas of the stunning North Cascades. Red Indian paintbrush, lupines, and bistort are scattered among the granite boulder shards on the ridge. It’s the type of scene that brings to mind the lyric, “the hills are alive with the sound of music”. My score picks up on this ebullient vibe by reaching for a painterly sound palette: big, reverb-drenched synth pads and undulating swarms of synthesized bell tones evoke the panoramic views adorned with colorful life on the margins. This is not intimate piano suite fare.

It’s a popular hike on a summer day, and we certainly were not alone. The environmental audio has been spliced to focus on the biophony, as has been the case for most of my soundwalks. When we made it back to the trailhead I was astonished at how quick we made the transit. We shaved one or two hours off the estimated hike time, and yet time seemed to slip so slowly while we were out there.

Thanks for reading and listening along. If you find yourself in the North Cascades and have the time and ability, don’t pass this hike up!

Maple Pass Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services today, July 10th, 2026.

It’s funny how arrivals can turn into quiet affairs. Like, say, you’re walking along a trail with a friend and you get to a view or a waterfall or something and then slip into quiet. That’s how I’m feeling with this arrival.

It is the arrival of my first LP, and the sound recording it contains, which both captures and takes inspiration from The Wildwood Trail in Portland, Oregon’s Forest Park. To recap, it’s a 30 mile linear trail through a 5000+ acre forest in the city. I’ve written quite a lot about it: its magnetism, its quirks, its creation, its history, its wildlife, the volunteers that keep the trails clear, and the art that it inspires. You can read up on it while listening to the forest ambience in every quarter, in my ten part series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and this one makes 10. It’s virtual forest bathing!

And now, well, here we are. The end of the trail, the launch of the album, and also a new beginning. It’s kind of strange to have an artifact after creating so many soundwalks memorialized only in pixels and a digital ephemera. This is a tactile thing in comparison, and while not as simple to distribute, it’s reassuring on some level. It turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself.

It’s really amazing how the material holds the sound. It's all contained in the microscopic ridges of the infinitesimal canyon that spirals along the surface of the vinyl disc. I was curious how long that tiny canyon is, if you stretched it out and measured it, so I turned to Claude to work it out. It obliged my story problem in two seconds and spit out: approximately 3000 meters or 1.86 miles. I don’t know why, but I found that fascinating; picturing the groove like a gossamer ribbon spooling out on the Wildwood Trail itself for nearly 2 miles, shimmering in the wind like a sound wave.

I must pay my respect and gratitude to the kind people at MusicOregon’s Echo Fund, and The Portland Office of Arts and Culture. Without an Echo Fund Grant this would not have come to pass. Thank you, Thank you.

And to all of you who are reading this and who have shared moments of my journey or listened to my music, thank you. I hope this finds you well.

Wildwood Trail Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services today June 26th, 2026. Find the limited run LP on Bandcamp.