And so we start again. Happy New Year everyone!

I picked this album to coincide with the new year because the field recording it is built on is, to me, a kind of tonic. It pulses with the sound of distant surf, wildlife, and a spring rain shower.

Recorded on April 10th last year at Agnes Creek Open Space, a 57 acre woodland in the heart of Lincoln City, Oregon, this soundscape features the low din of the ocean, the ebullient Pacific Wren, and a very nice ensemble of Varied Thrush adding their ethereal single-note song. In the distance we hear cheerful American Robins and Song Sparrows. In time, a Purple Finch and a Douglas’ squirrel take positions in the soundstage. Mixed flocks—bushtits and Chestnut-backed Chickadees primarily—pass through. It sounds like a thriving habitat, but it was not always this way.

The area was clear-cut in the 1960s. After that, it regenerated naturally, resulting in a very dense thicket of young conifers that became draped with invasive species. By 2000, when the city purchased the property with funds from an open space acquisition bond, it was overgrown and trash-strewn.

In 2013 the city conducted a selective forest thinning project, which improved forest health, and provided wood chips for a new loop trail. In 2016 a ribbon cutting ceremony celebrated carved benches and a footbridge created by local groups.

This environmental recording serves as a testament to the forces of both neglect and attention to create renewal. Yes, neglect. Don’t we all have issues we don’t tend to? We make resolutions and then fail to act on them. Sometimes that’s just a necessary step in natural rejuvenation, creating the necessary conditions for real transformation.

My composition takes cues from the low moan of the surf, with a variety of sampled and synthesized instrument voices selected to preserve space in the higher frequencies for the wildlife.

Coastal Forest is available under the artist name Listening Spot on all streaming platforms Friday, January 2nd, 2026. I’ve made it available here in its entirety with the idea it might be somehow useful. Thanks for reading and listening. And, again, may the promise of a fresh new year be a boon to us all!

Thanks for reading Soundwalk! This post is public so feel free to share it.

ps. For a deeper dive from, see also Field Report Vol 26: Nelscott by Chad Crouch available on all-but-one streaming services.

Hi Everyone. How are we? Are you OK? I’m OK. I’m just really grateful to be able to do this: to walk, listen, make music. To share it here. It’s a dream gig, really.

So for starters today, I think we should discuss the weird name of this week’s soundwalk. It comes from a log cabin built in 1907, as the first administrative site in the Olympic National Forest. Ranger Emery J. Finch constructed it for his bride Mabel, and they moved in on April 22, 1908. Word has it he chose the spot for a nearby fishing hole, which came to be known as Ranger Hole. But the name, recorded in early years as “No. 27 Interrorem Administrative Site,” remains something of a mystery. This rustic cabin is still standing proud, near the SE border of the park, and you can even book a stay for $58/night in the near future.

“Interrorem” is latin. It’s law jargon for a legal threat, meant to compel compliance without resorting to a lawsuit or prosecution. It’s basically what a cease and desist letter attempts to accomplish, and it is undoubtedly a primary objective of any ranger: to convey authority over a domain. It is not however, a term that would often enter the lexicon of an early 20th century ranger. It’s difficult to imagine Emery saying to Mabel, after putting his whipsaw and adze to rest, “This will be our home, dear. We’ll call it Interrorem.”

Some say it was a scrambling of the less fussy word “interim.” Seems like we’ll never know. The important thing for this story is that the trail I walked for this soundwalk is basically the same path Ranger Emery J. Finch wore into the once-primeval forest to go down to the Duckabush River fishing hole he prized.

The cabin itself is surrounded by Big Leaf Maple trees in a clearing, giving way along the trail to western hemlock, Douglas-fir, and western red cedar. The Olympic National Forest is famous for its temperate rain forests, and while this watershed may not see the 130” of annual rainfall the famous Hoh Valley does, it too is a mossy wonderland.

On this rainy day soundwalk we are greeted in the beginning by Varied Thrush, before the woodland seems to envelop the visitor in quiet. As the rain lets up a little, we hear Golden-crowned Kinglets and trailside rivulets before the surging Duckabush River comes into the fore. Clocking in at 19 minutes, it’s on the shorter side, but long enough to relax me into slumberland.

This is just a taste of what’s to come. We’ll hear more soundscapes from Olympic National Park in 2026! Thank you, as always, for joining me here, and for listening.

Interrorem Soundwalk is available on all music streaming services on December 12th, 2025.