Remembering The Mountains Through Song

Starting down the Wonderland Trail on Mount Rainier’s southwest side this summer, I pushed up through the expansive meadows of Indian Henry’s Hunting Ground, and struck off from the main trail toward Pyramid Park. As I descended into the backcountry section, the view of the peak next to Rainier’s summit suddenly appeared, and I more fully comprehended the steep ascent I was about to make. A driving rhythm started pulsing through my mind, accompanied by a melody that snaked circuitously upward. 

This became the basis of a new song for my project, Trails & Tunes, in which I—a backpacker, musician, and filmmaker—write songs about outdoor spaces and the stories behind them, from conservation and trail information, to ecology and geology. I started playing with lyrical ideas on top of Pyramid Peak, writing ideas and fragments in a notebook while overlooking the myriad chain of peaks across the southwestern horizon, nearly 7,000 feet up.

As soon as I step out onto a backcountry trail, the absence of human-made stimuli becomes wonderfully apparent, but my mind automatically rushes to fill in the void—usually with a combination of looping pop song hooks and blockbuster movie scenes. I try to counter this by paying close attention to the world around me, and attempting to weave the experience of being out on a trail into a song, while hiking it.

I try to learn the geology and ecology of every place I go to hike ahead of time. The challenge of setting memorable informational nuggets to a catchy melody has become one of my favorite puzzles. To actually get out into the place in question—to experience its flavors and moods in person—is essential. For me, this is the only way to create with honesty.

Thinking about outdoor spaces in this way not only helps me slow the distracted hamster-wheel of my brain, it also deepens my relationship with the backcountry. I highly recommend that all backpackers and hikers give this a try.

Whatever it means to you to engage creatively with the landscape—whether that’s with music, drawing, movement, or words—it can bring forth nuances and insights that illuminate your connection with the outdoors and provide a trail of mental breadcrumbs, allowing you to peer back at the elevated mental state you experienced when you sat deep in that old growth forest, swam in the crystalline alpine lake, or looked out from top of the rugged peak. 

With just a few voice memos and notebook jottings during the trip, I find I have enough material to return home with to complete a song, knowing it will be suffused with the nature of the place I’ve just been in. And if someone else can listen to the final tune and feel drawn to learn more or go outside themselves? That’s my kind of magic.

—Luke Borsten