The Clouds
A Story
Happy to be sitting at the base of the Fitz Roy in warm sunshine, Olivia and I decided we would catnap for a little while. There was no rush to head back to town and after all, we had waited four days for this moment.
I ate my avocado sandwich and a handful of cherries before kicking back, stretching out, rearranging a few rocks to create a comfortable spot to lay down.
Not one to take a nap, I watched the clouds floating by, layers of them passing over the mountain range. The highest layer, wispy like horse tales, ripped by on high altitude winds. The several middle layers at lower altitudes were fuller, fluffier, more common looking clouds.
hiking out, around mile 3
the final push up to the lakes
Patagonian skies formed clouds in shapes and patterns I had never see before. One sunset in Puerto Natales, three circular clouds formed: fluffy and light looking, oblong and with the top subtly domed, a thick American pancake. These clouds seemed a cousin of those lenticular ones that form so ethereally atop mountains. Mt. Fuji often wears this type of cloud. However, lenticular clouds appear to form around a peak, manipulated or in tandem with the mountain. These three sunset clouds I saw were independent of any mountain force, they seemed suspended, not even a drift on winds.
During the entire hike out to Fitz Roy the clouds changed formation and shape, speed and altitude at a unique pace. I was particularly captivated by the layers, shown in the first photograph above, each layer distinct in color, texture, proximity and relationship to the mountain range.
i loved this particular cloud, linear and mirroring the shape of the range in the sky, similar to a reflection.
The arrangement of clouds in the sky changed so rapidly it felt like watching a time lapse. I took to documenting them while Olivia and I continued to soak up the sun.
When we first arrived at the lake a blanket of clouds had covered up the high blue sky. That blanket was whisked quickly away quickly to re-reveal blue skies with scattered wisps of cloud. Then, from behind the mountain range came a mass of clouds, all different shapes and sizes but moving together.
An hour of cloud watching later and something changed. The clouds, yes, but this felt similar to someones mood shifting, like a joke landing badly turning someones light energy going cold in hurt.
It was the ominous grey color of this new cloud, it was the way it moved so quick and quiet from behind the mountains, coating the blue sky once more in grey. The lake changed color, a cool breeze brought with the cloud crept across the water, and the smell of that breeze reinforced an imminent menace. I sat up as if it might help me to process this change better.
A storm, I thought.
I looked over to see Olivia, probably awake but eyes closed and therefore oblivious to this new blanket of cloud.
“I think it’s time to leave, Olivia.”
She popped up and I pointed up to the sky. We packed up and headed back down the trail, back to where the trail switches back and forth across the final incline up to this view point. We kept a brisk pace. It had been such a beautiful day that I had opted for my fleece jacket instead of a weather proof one. Though it was really of little consequence, as we walked I repeated over and over to myself how annoying it would be to get this jacket soaked through before a 15 hours bus ride the following day. This jacket made for a very good pillow on long bus journeys.
I took the photograph above on my phone no more than 45 minutes after leaving the top, the lake where we had been sunbathing. Now, the mountains were enveloped in a storm that dumped rain, maybe even sleet.
We kept moving. The skies behind were dark, but ahead we could see sunshine and blue skies in the direction of El Chaltén. We had managed to out maneuver the rains, a distinct wall of rain at least a mile behind us, though moving fast. However, the wind was so strong it carried rain across that mile and whipped said rain against our backsides. We were dry in the front and wet on the back.
For some of the way we ran. We passed a man who yelled after us, “I admire your hustle!” but it was the energy and excitement of the weather that let us run.
When we arrived back in El Chaltén it was blue skies, birds singing. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and restaurants were busy with people eating outside in the sunshine. Feeling a bit shellshocked by the Patagonian weather we had just encountered, we split up to rest at our respective hostels before meeting for a celebratory beer.