The shores of Lago Titicaca and Copacabana

It felt pretty good to be leaving La Paz and heading to the country, La Paz had kept Kirk and I safe in her bosom for 2 weeks now and for that we were most grateful, however it was now time to move onto fresh pastures and new adventures. So onwards friends to Copacabana & Lago Titicaca.
The day started early from La Paz with a long bus journey, well I say long but I was later to realise that there were lengthier bus trips ahead, this particular one was about 6 hours from recollection. Within 2 hours of being on the road, Bang! Our first flat tyre, which I shall be honest, was welcome, it was a beautiful sunny day and I was in need of a leg stretch and of course a smoke. Met an unfortunate English guy whom had lost his entire luggage on a connecting flight and was told that there was little chance of him retrieving anything. I felt sympathy for him but relieved that my own brief encounter with lost luggage had been nothing to whinge about. Nae luck!
The bus pulled up to a very small ferry port with spectacular views across Lago Titicaca. The somewhat small wooden ferry with an outboard motor took the task of carrying our bus whilst we took a separate smaller motorboat. Up until relatively recently the gringo passengers would stay on the bus and cross onboard the ferry, this was soon seen as to dangerous after a boat sank taking the lives of a number of tourists with it. As can be seen from a photograph that Kirk had taken, the tourist bus before us had a near miss.
Copacabana was a beautiful wee toon on the shores of Lago Titicaca with a small community that seemed to flourish on tourism both from Bolivian La Pazonians and gringos. Kirk and I checked into our hotel which was situated up a hill looking over both the town and the lake, perfect and at only eight bucks a night we weren’t complaining at all. After getting some lunch in we felt the urge for our first evening to get a boat, fishing rods and attempting to make a catch. Uno problemo, no boat, no rods, fit can ye de? Well we took a wee gander down the beach and within 5 minutes a group of fine Bolivian gents offered us a boat, rods and bait to take out on the lake for a couple of hours, who’d have thought it eh. So after a short row out where we were over taken time and time again by an old lady and her grandson who were out laying nets, weaving back and forth around us the old wifey’s stood up rowing technique was flawless whilst the youngster spread the nets into the water. Unlike us strapping Scotsmen whom were moving at ridiculously slow pace in comparison. They are tough folk out here that is for sure (although very small), I thought of Aunty Jessie paddling away when I saw the old lady who must have been at least seventy odd, not quite105 though ;)). We cast our only rod and one line for the next two hours without even a bite from the deep but that didn’t seem to matter as we experienced a beautiful sunset and the sound of thunder followed by lightening on the Titicaca horizon. Bloody hell this lake is big.
Lake Titicaca lies in the Andes Mountains on the Bolivian Altiplano between the eastern and western cordillera, it is the highest lake in the world at an altitude of 12,506 feet (3810m).
Pre-Columbian culture occupied the shores of the lake from about 100 AD to perhaps 1000 AD. Within Tiahuanaco's ruins archaeologists have labelled six architectural complexes, all of which were used for religious ceremonies. The most important structure, the Kalasasaya, is near the center of the site; the Subterranean Temple lies to the east, and the enclosures of Putuni. Laka Kollu, and Q'eri Kala are on the west. The Kalasasaya, a large, enclosed platform, is the site of the famous Gate of the Sun, at the centre of which is a figure wearing a radiating headdress and carrying a staff in each hand. Settled since prehistoric times by Aymara Indians, the shores of the lake remain densely populated. Modern steamboats and traditional reed boats (balsas de totora) connect the lakeside settlements. The Aymara speaking people, called Uros, are famous for their totora reed boats. These boats called balsas are primarily used for fishing. These boats were sometimes affixed with sails, also made from reeds. The use of these boats today has now become obsolete, and are only used as a tourist attraction. (oh isn’t the internet great for lifting a history lesson)
The following morning Kirk and I went to the local market and bought some steaks, sausages, bread plus other bits and bobs with the intension of camping out on the Isle de la Sol and cooking on an open fire. The boat trip to Isle de Sol was great and coming in to the relatively small island was a spectacular site indeed at around four o’clock.
After climbing the really steep steps up the hill from the beach we found a range of hostels on offer and it didn’t take long to decide on that rather than camping with no tent. It seems the Lake has a thunder, lightning and rainstorm every night here. Wise decision not to camp in hindsight.
It didn’t take much persuading to have Zoe & Joel (I think that was there names,,,Kirk?) join us for a barbecue on the beech. An English couple from London area that had been travelling for a while now and were dead sound. No joke, we all agreed the steaks etc on the fire we cooked was one of the best meals had since away, amazing. Indiana Kirk fashioned a wonderful grill from a retaining gabion wall mesh nearby and there was much rejoicing. Steaks, bottle of wine and a glorious sunset / moonrise what more can you ask for (ok maybe the boss playing ‘The Ghost of Tom Joad’ round the campfire would have been nice.)
Sure enough it pissed down lamas and guinea pigs that night and we were stoked not to be sleeping out rough. So after some breakfast we set off round the island in search of the infamous cities of gold!!! Shite no that’s actually a cartoon set in South America I used to watch as a youngster, remember? The golden condor and alike, no, ok never mind.
Anyhoo, within ten minutes we had a fellow companion for the day, an island dog we named Senor Shep who was to be our guide and stray dog guardian.
It took us approximately 6 hours to walk round most of the island seeing excellent views on the way including a local football game, that it has to be said matched the standard of Banchory Boys club under 11’s magic.
On the return route school had obviously finished and the kids took great delight in running uphill past these two pale, non-acclimatised Scots struggling there way up. Well something I haven’t mentioned yet, Kirk was actually paler than most. After spending the last three years in Antarctica it was to be expected, however he got badly burned in Coroico and lost most of his neck, shoulder and back skin. Many times a day I would hear from Kirk “oohyah,,,,Keeper!” Aghhh, I still have nightmares as he kept them in his wee keeper box, or on occasion it sounded like Kirk was sleeping on a bed of ‘Special K’ corn flakes at night (Lol, sorry Kirk, comment at will ☺).
After the trek we made it successfully back to the port on time for the four o’clock boat back to Copacabana for the night which turned into two. To nice a place to leave prematurely it must be said, besides we had a shandy or two that night. Surely not I hear you say!