We posed that question to you, oh readers, and 60 percent of you would rather not wear earbuds on the trail. To defend both sides, we asked two outdoor junkies to debate this burning question.
+Tune In
William Shakespeare once mused “The earth has music for those who listen.” True that. It’s often quite a peaceful, slow-moving melody, one that can lull you to sleep as you meditate in a dhyana pose while bees and butterflies flutter about in a meadow of wildflowers next to a gurgling stream. But Billy Shakes wasn’t a trail runner and never owned an iPod.
I’ve run more than 50,000 miles in my life and have found there’s little that compares to running a high-alpine singletrack trail with Led Zeppelin’s “Over the Hills and Far Away” or U2’s “Beautiful Day” pumping through my head. Or zipping through a wildflower meadow with the melodic hip-hop rhythm of Crazy Town’s “Butterfly” dancing in my ears.
And lest you think I’m so shallow as to be moved merely by the whimsical beats of pop tunes, I should mention that I often run early morning out-and-backs on Boulder’s Mesa Trail with a captivating playlist that includes Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 and a 15-minute reprise of Ravel’s Bolero.
Infusing music into a postcard-quality scene enhances the sensory experience in the same the way stuff jumps off the screen when you’re wearing those goofy glasses at a 3-D movie. Perhaps because my ears are otherwise preoccupied, I tend to see, hear and even smell with more vivaciousness running with music—taking note of the uniquely flecked face of a rock in the distance, watching a gentle breeze blowing through tall grasses, soaking in the strong aroma of ponderosa pine sap lingering in the air.
And all of that helps me drown out work deadlines, remembering that I have to mow the lawn, the ridiculousness of the oil spill in the Gulf and other mundane thoughts that typically creep into my sans-music head. Instead, I become part of the fabric of my surroundings, running through my own real-time adventure flick with a soundtrack that inspires me, moves me and allows me to just be.
There’s absolutely nothing dumb or numb about taking your tunes out on the trail. It’s motivating, it’s pulsating and it’s downright invigorating. Plug in, tune out, pick up the pace and buzz by those slow, self-righteous hikers carrying 40-pound packs and talking about nothing of consequence for weeks on end.
—Brian Metzler
+Buds Out
Somewhere in Maine, four months into a 2,000-mile walk in 2003, I came upon a familiar sight: a band of stinking hikers taking stock at a road crossing. Based on their number, appearance, and the presence of a garden gnome strapped to one pack, I surmised that these were “Snack Attack,” “S.W.I.F.T.” (“Shit What’d I Forget Today?”), and “Lion King,” the trail names of three guys in their twenties, like me, who were nearly done thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. I’d been following their shenanigans in shelter journals for months, and from the sound of the entries—hiking nude under full moons, attempting to tame wild cows, and frequent, debauched trips into town—they seemed like good company.
Then they put their ear buds in, cued up “Crazy Town,” or whatever siren songs their iPods cooed, and hiked on in numb, dumb silence. Why not just walk 2,174 miles on a treadmill, in front of a nature show? Why choose to enter the wilderness for five months—or an evening—and then tune out its voice? Personally, I’d hoped to be briefly entertained by these dudes. But I was more shocked, than disappointed, by their decision to mute nature. Sure, there’s a safety argument someone other than me could make about being able to hear the bear that eats you. But I was more disturbed by the choice to listen to a recording over the real thing: a bellowing moose, a gurgling stream, wind through the branches.
Whether in the Mahoosucs or the Indian Peaks, I’m a strong believer in hiking one’s own hike—nude, clothed, quoting Shakespeare or Bono. And I love “Over The Hills and Far Away” as much as the next guy. But why escape from the wild when it is, itself, the greatest escape? There’s a natural soundscape that’s as rich as the landscape to which it belongs. Unplug your ears. Listen.
—Charles Bethea
+Reader Response
“It’s not quite as easy as yes or no. For me, it’s ‘no’ the majority of the time. Skiing, it’s almost a no-brainer. While I’m all for getting in the grove with some Kings of Leon or Fleet Foxes, it’s just too dangerous to not be tuned in to your surroundings. Besides, I like to set my own tempo when making my turns. Biking? I haven’t quite made up my mind, and while I have jammed out before, I’m leaning more to the tune outside. Again, just too risky. Running is the big exception. Music can actually be helpful while logging miles. Thank God, cause I don’t think I could run 26.2 without.”
