The quietest place in the United States resides 3.2 miles up the Hoh River Rainforest Trail in Olympic National Park. A red stone, a square inch in size, placed by a sonic ecologist, marks the spot. I never found the stone, but back in 2018, for my fortieth birthday, I brought (force-marched by some accounts) my wife, sister, and brotherin- law up that trail to the glaciers of Mt. Olympus, and I remember the quality of the quiet that inhabited that mossdampened no-fly zone.
I also recall the therapeutic effects of being freed from a constant sonic assault without the unnatural sanitization of noise-cancelling headphones. I can say with confidence that I am a better, more patient, more reflective human being when I’ve had a few moments of quality silence.
Conversely, and with equal confidence, I can say I’m not at my best when immersed in a society of doomscrolling, 24-hour news commentary, and perpetual AirPods. Research has rightly focused on the negative impacts of this cultural shift on children, now culminating in the California lawsuit against social media companies for intentionally designing addictive platforms known to cause anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation, but as a therapist from New Braunfels once told me, Facebook issues at Kissing Tree pay his bills. None of us is better for the nonstop siege on our senses. So how do we break free?
On Wednesday, somewhere north of a billion people worldwide began observing Lent. At its best, Lent is an intentional season of habit change aimed at a more reflective, generous, and gracious life. The season begins with the reminder, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
In the curious minutiae of church dogma, it is an admonition that need not be spoken by clergy nor received by an adherent, but simply an invitation to all humans to pause and reflect on how we’re living against the horizon of our deaths. So if you’ve been looking for a reason to change your media habits, now is a good time.
Give up social media. Give up news channels. Give up AirPods, and instead, go for a hike. Give yourself both the freedom from sonic assault and the gift of green noise (the natural sounds of water, wind, birds, insects, and the dance of trees). And while we don’t have the quietest square inch in the lower 48, we do have a couple of great trails where the din of the world relaxes its grip.
My favorite quiet hike wanders down the Centipede Trail after it breaks away from the Buckeye Trail in Spring Lake Natural Area. If you have time, driving out to the Lime Kiln Rd Trailhead provides an added layer of seclusion from the hustle and bustle of LBJ or I-35.
If you need something closer in, the old section of the Paraiso Trail between Styx and Dante in Purgatory Creek Natural Area also furnishes a buffer from road noise, and as one of the least traversed parts of the park, it usually provides a solitary experience.
Finally, the San Marcos Cemetery delivers the perfect refuge from all of the assaults of the world while offering the perfect environment to remember that “life is short and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us.”
