In my last post, I referred to winter towns squeezed between the mountains and the lake at the shore line. Upon closer examination, they are not squeezed–they just fit. Like we’d all like to fit…and not be squeezed, not be forced.
I think, winter spring, summer or fall, I would have fun walking this village, don’t you agree?
Clouds gently drift into and pause in places we humans can not easily access.
I’d rather have my head in the clouds than my face in the mask.
What is freedom? What is science? What is clear? What is certain?
…virgin? Take your pick.
This landscape has been labelled, the Jungfrau Region. The Jungfrau is the virgin. I see it differently. These are the Three Kings.
Mountain peaks from left to right, Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau.
Snow = Water. Water = King.
But what I like most about this photo is the foreground. On the top of the center foreground hill, see below, is a place to have a cup of coffee and a piece of pie while enjoying unrestricted visual access to the Kings.
Look carefully in the right center background to see the Jungfraujoch Observatory at 3,400 meters above sea level.
What happened to my beautiful autumn?
Today was one of those fall days when I just had to take a walk.
No mask. No distancing. Just a walk outdoors.
The fresh air keeps me from thinking why so many governments and media outlets want me to be afraid to breathe. Afraid to breathe? Yeah, because somebody might die. I have to be afraid of breathing? Doesn’t make sense.
So I took a walk. On a mountain path suitable for this 75yr old, three years after a stroke, nevertheless, in good health.
Clouds were everywhere. And they weren’t everywhere as I walked uphill.
I breathed deeply the air. The air was influenced by agriculture and forestry management. It was not influenced by bustling cities. When I inhaled deeply. The air felt clean and healthy deep down in my lungs. The entire passage felt clean and healthy.
To me that is not only the basis of life, it is the simplest pleasure of life. I was feeing refreshed, what to speak of fall color and 50 degrees Fahrenheit
Then I was in the clouds. I found myself walking in the sound of clouds. In case you haven’t, you should note that clouds come and go without sound. Without even the slightest whisper they come, they envelope, then they leave. Through the entire experience, the thread of sameness was silence.
But other things changed. As I walked deeper into the cloud, I saw less and less about me. My breathing became labored. Then my mind took over–had I been enveloped by a covid cloud? Hard to breathe–is this my end–is this the beginning of harder and harder breathing–never getting enough?
Then the cloud lifted. Clarity resumed. Unhindered deep breathing resumed. I was no longer afraid to breathe.
1. In real life these mountain clouds form, dissolve, move at speeds that disable human powers of observation. They are as slow as they are silent.
2. They arise, grow and dissolve while we are busy thinking. Stealth is their very essence.
3. In these mountains, it is easy to walk above the clouds–not fog–clouds!
4. Autumn colors seduce.
5. Clouds arrive without warning.
6. They thicken without warning.
7. Breathing becomes labored.
8. …and then under labored breathing, the mind troubles. The mind can become our worst enemy. Only proper use of intelligence can harness the mind.
9. Clouds lifting, like intelligence cleaning out the worries of the mind.
10. Clarity returns; but clouds are always just around the corner.
And speaking of stealth, I think my freedom to breathe healthy air deep into my lungs, under some debatable guise, may be in real life, stealthily taken from me.
Islands of trees in the clouds.
This is not augmented reality.
This is not CG.
This is not AI.
The clouds make these islands in their own time; and they disappear these islands in their own time.
Cloud time is not human time.
The presence and absence of sunlight…
…on earth, water and air.
There is something clean and inspirational in this landscape.
Or, am I under illusion?
…clouds, mountains and forests…
Railing about what?
Once upon a time…and then it was yesterday…and you are reading this today.
In a land of mountain trains–funiculars, cable cars and narrow gauge cogwheel trains. They are slow and they get you high.
Why? Why get high?
I’ll let the following photos tell the story. You will be in the Bernese Highlands of the Jungfrau Region, the northern pre-mountains, above 2,000 meters in the Swiss Alps. Why build these mechanical contraptions to get high?
Here are the trains that get you high.
Passenger cars–note narrow gauge and cogwheel. Start at 600 meters, finish at 2,300 meters.
Passenger cars and engine–small and strong–electric power.
Engine close up–attached in front of the engine is a cart for transporting goods and construction materials.
Once you are high…the air is thin, fresh, cool and the distances…magical.
Mountains–Eiger, Monch, Junfrau with the Mannlichen gipfel amidst the clouds in the foreground.
Paths to explore, paths for discovering.
Discoveries.
Going deep in.
Can’t get enough.
What are landrace clouds? I made it up. Combination of words to describe the reality of cloud appearance in my neighborhood.
My neighborhood. According to the Swiss National Meteorological office, my Swiss neighborhood is the Northern Alps, the north facing slopes of the northernmost range of Alps in Switzerland. Using more common tourist and environmentally friendly vocabulary, my neighborhood is in the Jungfrau Region of the Berner Oberland around Interlaken. I live in the north-facing drainage basin of the famous Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau mountain triumvirate.
Now all that aside, over my years of walking this neighborhood, I have noticed that barely observable, minimal fluctuations in temperature, humidity, pressure and wind create quite dramatic formation and dissolution of very low level clouds. Please do not confuse them with fog. For a patient viewer, a dance reveals itself. And where there is dance, there is music. Not in astronomical time, but in real time. See it. Feel it. Hear it.
Unmistakeable to a person on foot.
So for me, landrace clouds are very specific, locally generated occurrences. That is my starting point. That is real. Then the fiction begins. I call it fiction because of the reality that what we call ‘fixed’ or ‘settled’ science is not really fixed or settled or permanent. I like working and writing on the edge of the fixed because every edge is fuzzy and invites exploration, as do these landrace cloud phenomena.
I ask myself, what really happens at the point where a cloud begins its formation in touch with the earth? My response is a bit alchemical, a bit old school. I theorise that point as the interaction of earth, air, water…kind of special already, no? But what about ether? What happens at the moment of generation and the final moment of dissolution?
So, I go hunting in my neighborhood for generation points of landrace clouds. Following are eleven images from recent forays.
1. Here is a generic shot of clouds in my neighborhood. Note the lake(water), the mountains(earth) and the sky(air). Note the cloud varieties. Anybody sense the presence of ethereal?
2. Here is a closer view showing certain cloud interactions with the earth.
3. In this partially zoomed view, note the implied dynamics of the landrace cloud edges.
4. In this zoomed view it is clear to see the scale of the landscape and the recently generated landrace cloud.
5. And now the landrace cloud hunt begins–first person–on the ground–in your face.
6. I learned the landrace cloud dynamics first hand. They always move. Their edges always change. The harder I looked, the further away they were.
7. On another day, I learned that if I just stood still long enough, the landrace clouds came to me. But on this day no such luck.
8. Without the opportunity to be at the point of cloud generation, I had so satisfy the walk by appreciating such details as here.
9. Spring wild flowers in Alp pastures never cease to amaze.
10. But as I was looking for the landrace cloud points of generation, I saw this hut at the edge of the forest.
11. And at the peak of the roof, protecting this hut, was…
All of the above represent a ‘typical’ walk in my neighborhood. And that is why fiction is just too close to fact.
