Sometimes the walkers and runners we pass are plugged into headphones or earbuds. One guy wasn't even bothering with those - he had music blaring straight out of his rucksack.
I want to tell them, 'You're missing it!'
Every time we pass a thicket or a rustling hedge, there is birdsong. The mob of summer-visiting warblers has arrived to breed and our native birds are also singing their tiny hearts out over mates and territories. This incredible symphony lasts only a few months of the year.
Different birds favour different areas - on day three we were hearing tree pipits, who have the most beautiful song, the following day, whitethroats, with their busy, scratchy tunes.
And always, there are wrens, robins, yellowhammers, chiff-chaffs, blackbirds and thrushes.
But there is one constant accompaniment on the South Downs Way of which we never tire - the buoyant warbling of the skylark.
Many and wonderful are the podcasts and pop tunes folks might be listening to through their ear buds, but none could possibly be as heart-lifting as the song of the skylark.
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