Earlier today I was telling a friend how much I'm looking forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday and I plan to go for a long hike. Alone. Ideally passing no one.

This sounds a little reclusive and sad, but this activity for me is life-giving. The solitude is energising.

The image accompanying this post is a photo I took while my wife and I were traveling Iceland in 2009. After leaving Mývatn in the north of the country we were heading east towards our next stop, Egilsstaðir. Traveling as a duo (at that time pre-children!) and in the off-season, the scenery, lack of fellow tourists, barren and pristine landscape, and sheer isolation made this leg of the journey forever unforgettable.

At the point this photo was taken we pulled our 4WD up in the middle of the national highway (Route 1, the Ring Road which circles the country), turned the engine off and listened. I kept a journal of the trip and the following is my account of the experience as recalled that evening:

Saturday 4th April 2009

...the road to Egilsstaðir consisted largely of barren ice fields and mountains, great for photos and an insight into what the vast, uninhabited and hostile interior of Iceland must be like. At one time we stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, no other cars, rocks, or any life in sight. We turned off the engine, got out of the car and just listened. Nothing. Once you sheltered your ears to stop the sound of the breeze blowing past your ear, the only sound was the occasional drip of thawing snow and ice. Total isolation...

I will never forget that experience.

In the most regular of circumstances we are surrounded by sound. Our constant exposure to what we hear means that after a while we don't really listen to much of it at all. It becomes background noise. An unconscious reminder of being accompanied.

My Icelandic experience is rare.

While I love music and sound as I do, there is an energising peace in solitude. I hope to find it tomorrow.

I have commented before on just how much you hear when you concentrate on listening. You start to hear things which were previously just background noise.

I ate lunch today in a cafe, rain pouring down outside. I didn't have a book with me as I usually do. Instead I spent five minutes listening to the sounds of the cafe and its surroundings.

A Newcastle Cafe
1:35pm, Wednesday 15th June 2011

• Rain hitting the pavement outside
• A refrigerator running
• Chatter in the cafe
• A squeaking oven door
• Coffee machine warming up
• Cash register
• Coffee grinding
• Cars outside
• Rustling of a paper bag
• Metal tongs being put down
• Change being taken from the cash register
  
• Closing of the cash register
• Music on the radio
• Frothing milk
• Heels on the concrete floor
• Car tyres on the wet road
• A truck driving past
• My own breathing
• A drawer closing
• Waitress saying "That's $2 thanks"
• Coins hitting each other
• Plates hitting a table
• Plates hitting each other
• A spoon being taken from a drawer
• A spoon being placed on a saucer
• A saucer with a spoon and cup placed on a table
• A fryer / grill cooking
• Refrigerator door closing

1:40pm - end of my note-taking on what I heard.

It’s an interesting experiment. How many sounds can you hear right now? At first you may only recognize of a couple. The obvious sounds. But if you focus on listening you will likely hear many individual sounds around you, which were previously being filtered out of your awareness.

Right now I’m sitting in a park. I can hear breeze in the leaves, a person turning pages at a bench nearby, people talking, cars on a nearby road, birds, an air conditioner on a building close by, a car door closing, wind passing my ears, my jacket as I type, my own breathing… and that’s in a quiet spot.

What are you hearing now? And what do you hear when you listen, that was there but never heard before?