Lake Titicaca - part one

I set out for Lake Titicaca from the mountain town of Cabanaconde. It's a journey of several hours by bus, so to save a little time I boarded the bus practically the moment I finished the trek through the Colca Canyon. Even though the ride from Arequipa to Cabanaconde had taken a similar amount of time and cost only a few soles, there was no other option for reaching Lake Titicaca than to take a tourist bus, which was far more expensive. A single ticket came to about 60 USD.

After my previous crossing over the mountain passes I was somewhat prepared for what lay ahead, but I had no idea that at the very moment we were crossing the high plateau at an altitude of over 4,200 metres above sea level, a truck would overturn just ahead of us, leaving me stranded at that altitude for more than two hours. The result was a splitting headache and a migraine, the classic symptoms of altitude sickness.

The reward, though, was a rest stop with a chance to grab some refreshments - and from this spot there was a magnificent view of the El Misti volcano towering above Arequipa. There was also always something to watch and photograph from the bus. Storms chased around the mountains, llamas grazed on the grassy plains outside, and it was all framed by tall, "stern" mountains.

Titicaca is the largest high-altitude lake, and with its impressive surface area of 8,562 square kilometres it stretches across both Peru and neighbouring Bolivia. Its average depth is 107 metres, reaching a maximum of 283 metres. Most remarkable of all, though, is that you find yourself beside such an enormous lake at an altitude of 3,812 metres above sea level.

Like most tourists who come to the lake, I was drawn to the indigenous peoples who live on the small islands. The whole lake is the cradle of Inca culture, and it was from these very shores that the Incas later spread into other regions of Peru. The main tourist attraction is the Uros reed islands, which the people of the Uru tribe build from large bundles of the totora plant (botanically a species of bulrush). These days, however, Uros is really little more than an open-air museum, and virtually no one lives permanently on the cluster of floating islands.

So first thing in the morning I made my way to the harbour and got a ticket for a boat that would stop at Uros but then take me on to Amantaní, where I could spend the night with local families and, on the return journey the next day, also visit the island of Taquile. We reached Uros fairly quickly. We hopped off the boat onto the reed surface of the island and the local women explained to us how the island is "built" and what life here used to be like. It really was like visiting some open-air museum, complete with the obligatory commercial touch in the form of souvenir stalls. So instead I feasted my eyes on the beautifully colourful clothing the women wore and the gorgeous blue expanse of the lake.

I have to admit that it was the colour of the lake that fascinated me. The sky itself was mirrored in it. Thanks to its great depth, Titicaca can also whip up quite a storm, so a boat ride here is sometimes like riding a rollercoaster. I was sailing on a boat meant for about 30 people, but I think there were only 7 of us. After touring the reed island, we set off for Amantaní. I sat at the stern trying to take some photos and video. The other tourists soon fell asleep, lulled by the boat rocking on the lake's waves. After a while the captain came over and asked whether I could steer the boat from the stern for a moment so he could nip off. Since I proved myself capable, he later offered - when he went up to the bow to take some photos - to let me steer the boat from his captain's spot at the helm too (well, it wasn't exactly a helm, but a steering wheel from a Toyota). So I took the wheel, and the captain, telling me to keep going straight and turn left after that island over there, walked off. I thought he'd leave me there for just a few minutes, but when I glanced back and saw him asleep at the stern, it was clear it wouldn't end with a few minutes. In the end I steered the boat, with its unsuspecting passengers, for about an hour.

As soon as we reached Amantaní, the local inhabitants divided us up among themselves, since housing and cooking for tourists earns them a decent bit of extra income. Some of the locals still wear beautiful embroidered clothing, and they even work in the fields in it. Amantaní was nothing like what I had imagined. I had expected a wilder island with quirky "Indians", but contrary to my expectations the whole place was neat and tidy, full of cultivated little fields, with very few trees and beautifully kept footpaths all across the island.

I planned to head up to the two peaks of the island, where the pre-Inca monuments are located. It would essentially have been just a little hill you could jog up without the slightest trouble, if it hadn't in reality meant climbing from an altitude of 3,800 m to over 4,000 m above sea level. My acclimatisation still wasn't ideal, so a German I'd met on the boat equipped me with a bag of coca leaves, saying they should help if needed. You just roll up about 10 leaves, pop them in your mouth and wait. Your saliva releases the stimulating compounds from the leaves, and they work for about 30 minutes, after which you have to repeat the process. I didn't really believe in it, but the effects genuinely did kick in. I felt roughly as if I'd downed 3 energy drinks. But the main thing was that the altitude no longer gave me a headache.

I walked through the village and climbed up along a beautiful stone path. The locals were still working in the fields all around, and I could only marvel at the energy with which they manage to work in such thin air, without any machinery at all. Even the old grandmothers moved along the paths at a considerably faster pace than me, often carrying some heavy load in a basket on their backs. The blue sky contrasted beautifully with the vividly colourful clothing of the locals. Before long the stone monuments at the very summit of the island came into view. From there was a magnificent view of the lake and the entire island. For the first time I had climbed above 4,000 m above sea level "on my own two feet", and the sun was slowly nearing the horizon. But I'll share my further experiences from Lake Titicaca in the next article…