In my many years of wandering around the mountains, I’ve come across a few canyons where the echoes sound distinctly like human voices, in conversation, somewhere else in the canyon. No one is there, it’s just the reflections of the gurgles of the creek, usually. I’ve run into this sensation along Eagle Creek in Wyoming, and in a couple of spots in the Grand Canyon which, interestingly enough, were no where near water. Hearing the voices, you can’t help but conjure up ideas of ghosts or spirits in the rocks.
I ran across these canyon voices again recently on a visit to upper Chevelon Creek in northern Arizona. Here the creek cuts a narrow gash through ancient sand dunes of the Colorado Plateau, and even after this very dry winter, it still had water in it. A short trail runs along the creek, between a beaver dam on the upstream side and a deep pool on the downstream side. I set up my recorder to capture the sounds of the pretty little creek and the birds, and kept looking around to see where the voices were, even though I knew I was the only one in the canyon. My traveling companion also heard them when he was in the canyon earlier. And I think Shadow might have as well, as something in the canyon made him very uncomfortable, and he kept running out of the canyon and hanging out at the car. My audio recorder didn’t quite pick up the voices, but perhaps more sensitive equipment might have.
The canyon has been a destination of people for thousands of years, as evidenced by many layers of rock art on the walls. According to acoustic ecologist Gordon Hempton, many ancient peoples considered echoes to be a spiritual presence. Did previous cultures that entered the canyon hear the voices? Is that why the rock art is here?
We spent a windy night on the rim of the canyon, as a storm approached and faded away without dropping any rain. When the wind died, the rumble of the Santa Fe and Topeka kept waking me up, even though the tracks were 10 miles away. Low frequency sounds seem to travel forever in these wide-open landscapes.
Cassin’s finches greeted the clear dawn, and I set my recorder on the edge of the canyon then took a walk across the adjacent plateau to watch the sunrise. I was pleasantly surprised to find the recorder captured the sounds of beaver activity from the pond below, including a tail-smack of an alarmed beaver. I’m not sure what the beaver was reacting too, as we were no where near the canyon at that time.
Recording notes: Recorded with a Sony PCM-M10 with Audio Technica AT2022 and FEL SK 3.5 preamp. Recording subject to amplification and equalization.
References:
Hempton, G. and J. Grossman. 2009. One square inch of silence. One man’s search for natural silence in a noisy world. Free Press, NYC.