White Noise

Duration: 66 minutes 17 seconds, Size: 90.1 MB.

A cold early winter wilderness wind drifts through the trees as the sun peeks over the horizon. Frost in the trunks and branches crunches and pops as the trees flex.

Winter in the forest is a quiet time. Most of the birds have all but migrated south and most of the animals are fast asleep in their winter hibernation. Lakes, ponds, and small streams are frozen, and a thick blanket of snowcover acts as a sound absorbent. As the days get shorter and a little colder in early December, subtle changes occur in the early morning forest soundscape. The winter birds become more vocal.

In this recording, as the rising sun illuminates the tops of the trees, nuthatches chant and hairy woodpeckers drill. Red squirrels become more mobile after a crust forms on the deep snow. Their warning chatter becomes more frequent as they stray into each other's territory. An occasional goldfinch sings. The wind chills.

This is a very quiet minimalist recording — you'll notice that the restless winter air leaves its own background noise imprint. The beginning of the recording has quieter sections, whereas the second half has more wind. Listening with headphones is recommended.

Early Winter Wilderness is for those who enjoy a minimalist soundscape which has long stretches of low volume inactivity, and accurately represents the activities of wind and animals at daybreak in early winter. There is an audible hiss in the recording produced by the recording equipment. It has been encoded at 192 kbps for better audio quality.

Slip on your headphones, hop into your pajamas and cozy bedtime booties, grab a sumptuous fair cup of hot sizzling cider, and chugalug!

bbbrrrrrrrrr...

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Duration: 65 minutes 51 seconds, Size: 90.4 MB.

I am absolutely in love with Scotland.

Firstly, the accent here is so endearing. The soft accents are very sweet and congenial, while the thicker accents are thoroughly amusing. I kinda wish I had a Scottish accent. Although I can roll my R's pretty well, I can't seem to get the lilting of the Scottish melody down just quite yet.

Scotland is just darn beautiful. It has snow, it has beautiful glens and pristine rolling hills, it has zillions of miles of unspoiled picturesque wilderness.

And everywhere that I go there is the smell of soft grandmotherly perfume wafting in the air, not harsh overpowering perfume like the kind that women smokers wear to cover up the stench of nicotine, but rather, a flowery smell soldered with the scent of a fresh, clean baby.

Another thing is the people here are so decidedly friendly — strangers have invited me out on several occasions, from which one of them is how this recording came to be.

It was a long hike before we set up camp, which I found out later was around -10°c — and even though it was only four o'clock, night was washing over us. My gore-tex alpine bivysack and -20°C sleeping bag did keep me toasty when I was basking in its warmth but come morning my boots and water bottle were completely frozen, and packing up the bivysack/thermarest/sleeping bag and various other sundries was a serious challenge with hands and feet I wasn't sure belonged to me anymore.

Nevertheless, throughout the morning I traipsed about aimlessly through the snow–listening. Not for anything in particular, just the whole place; not a thought, not a word.

Eventually I sussed out a spot in a large area of pine trees especially chosen for its particularly musical qualities, about 20 feet into the cluster. This particular patch of trees was relatively dense which barred the wind from sundering itself, but rather, allowed it to sing its way around and over the trees.

I found that this exuberant sound is special to this particular spot, because when I tried a few other locations that were easier to get to, all failed to match the essence that I captured here. I set up my recording equipment quickly and in hushed amazement pressed RECORD.

Caledonian Squalls is a delightfully rousing white noise MP3 with 65 minutes of deep, balming winds heartily rushing through the pines of the Scottish Cairngorms.

Wandering through fields of stridulate noise, wafting on languid breezes, these winds conjure a pleasantly piquant air doused with low-pitched frequencies that lend a pensive edge to this delicate aural lattice.

They as well provide an elusive foundation for the aerial sonic stream, gradually accumulating a subtle puissance until reaching a level of heightened intensity naturally crafted to stimulate the subconscious, only to nimbly glissade back into moderate aplomb.

Excellent for both sleep and study, this wintry field recording is a breathy atmosphere conveyed by relaxing rhythms of infinite scope, naturally executed with placid restraint. No birds, animals, or planes are included.

  Soundmasking attributes of Caledonian Squalls

  when combined with Sennheiser HD-380 PRO headphones at 85% iPad volume

  (The 380s are amazingly comfortable for side-sleepers)

		< 6.5ft	> 6.5ft	> 20ft	> 49ft
Talking
Snoring
Crying baby
Barking dog
Shouting/yelling
Truck revving
Car horn
Lawnmower
Motorcycle revving
Fire truck siren
Jackhammer

= inaudible       = audible

Duration: 64 minutes 01 seconds, Size: 87.9 MB.

Imagine treading through a perilous wilderness blizzard with an oppressive rucksack and heavy pair of winter boots. Its gales are bitingly cold and numbingly knifelike; its windchills a blistering -40°C. Your body temperature is plummeting, frostbite is imminent, and it isn’t long before some random starving Yeti emerges from the pale to devour your flesh.

Your face is raw and gellid, and it feels as if it is reverting itself into a sumerian votive statue. A miasmic tendency to fatalism overwhelms you as you hesitantly accept your impending frosty doom. Suddenly, as if through divine intervention, a faint gray silhouette in the distance paints itself into the corner of your eye, onto a glaring white canvas of snow.

Squinting your eyes and trudging a bit closer, it appears to be a small stranded cottage. You are instilled with a glimmer of hope, and you let out a brisk sigh of relief. With jollity and high spirits, you trek down over towards the providential edifice and as you arrive upon its doorsteps, a sign reads, “Ye Olde Cozy Cottage - Free cocoa inside!!!”

Seeing as how it can only stand you in good stead, you take refuge in the mysterious abode, shut the door behind you, and you feel your ears slowly thaw as a light cascade of warm air emanating from the roaring fireplace gives a soft, gentle applause to the concert of crackling timber.

Safe and secure within this warm cozy cottage, stifled blusters of 90 km/h winds from the terrible snowstorm outside can be heard howling across the hills.

Casting your gaze about the resplendent furnishings of this sacrosanct haven, a dozen sizzling mugs of hot creamy cocoa vie for attention atop the kitchen counter.

Full of jubilant delight, you slip off your clumsy boots and gloves and set aside your wilderness paraphernalia, and you nab a tantalizing mug of cocoa adorned with soft white miniature marshmallows, flop yourself onto the couch next to the hearth, and pensively sip away the hours beside the cozy glowing embers.

Listen to Ye Olde Cozy Cottage under a warm blanket on a cold winter day or at a low volume to break up the encroaching tedium that comes with working in the silence.