La Paz to Titicaca
23.9.09
1. Click here for photos of bike ride to Titicaca
2. Click here for photos of Isla del Sol
Isla del Sol on Lake Titicaca. Personally, very few experiences match our weekend there for the manner in which it has marked an indelible imprint in my/our memory.
Standing at base camp on the Tibetan side of Mt Everest with blue skies. Watching the sunset over Ankgor Wat in Cambodia. Standing on the edge of Hanging Rock in the Blue mountains with the yellow sandstone above, below, and all around. Listening to Howler Monkeys growl from the canoe in Serere at dusk. Watching the full moon cast its beaming monochrome light onto Lake Titicaca the resulting shadows on to Isla del Sol followed by the unveiling of the Cordillera Real later in the night. Just to name a few....
Ali and Marion arrived from La Paz on Friday September 4th (Camilla's birthday) just as we were starting our dinner at La Cupula up on the hill looking over Copacabana. We had already had a lunch there and would have breakfast and another lunch before sadly saying goodbye to our most favourite meals in Bolivia.
We met Marion at her shop in La Paz - the Spitting Llama - when we first arrived into La Paz. We had a great conversation with her and then had dinner out with Marion and Ali, then drinks at Ali's pub the Blue Note. It turned into a memorable night.
We then had dinner again, this time at Marion's when we returned from the jungle to watch her documentary on KIVA and micro-credit in Bolivia. As ex-pats living in La Paz we gained a much deeper appreciation of Bolivia and its challenges. Indeed it was because of Marion we purchased both 'Whispering In The Giant's Ear' by William Powers and 'Bolivia. Between a Rock and a Hard Place' by Pete Good. Both books generated lots of interesting conversations and I highly recommend both of them if you have some interest in Bolivia, South America or indeed the impacts of Globalisation.
And so it was with great excitement that we anticipated their arrival at La Cupula for one our best holidays on this journey through South America since being in the jungle... :^).
Indeed we were feeling like regular socialites since arriving in La Paz. We had also met four other cycle tourists as they arrived into town.
- Max from Austria travelling from LA to (maybe) Ushuaia and beyond. 7 months and mostly back roads. He isn't a fan of big cities and tags ITW (Into the Wild) in his blog. This fellow is a bit of a machine. (He asked if we/I had done other trips: I mentioned my 6 months of Vancouver to Vienna and the 11,500 km. I had just enough time to say that was too fast before he dropped his trump card of a similar trip across Canada and down to Miami - mostly off road however and about 20,000km or was it 23,000. Anyway enough said. A serious strong and hard core rider.)
www.x-sound.com/itw
- Oldy and Ariel. Brasil and USA. Met in Guatamala. Travelled mostly by bike from there. ~11 or 12 months. Hitched a bit, stopped in places they liked. But more like us. They loved Guatamala and the Pedal project they worked with where an NGO is building pedal powered machines that don't require electricity. Very cool. Nice couple. www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/oldysbiketrip
- Holli. German teacher on a sabatical for 6 months riding from Lima to Ushuaia. Hour is living his dream and his wife is meeting him in Santiago.
http://www.toursuedamerika.blogspot.com/
The six of us had lunch one day in La Paz. Anita and I then had a lunch and dinner with Max again. We learned a lot about the various routes north to Columbia. Oldy/Ariel and Max raved about Columbia and I think Anita is now convinced that it is indeed a safe country to ride in. All three said it was their favourite of Columbia, Ecuador and Peru. We shared our tips for Bolivia and Argentina as best we could though they seemed less exciting than Peru, Ecuador and Columbia!
Indeed, we were so busy visiting all our new friends that we didn't really have time to see much more of La Paz before we had packed up and headed for Lake Titicaca.
We decided that there was no need to punish ourselves with the ride from Hotel Espana (~3500m) back up to El Alto(~4100m). I mean we had already ridden that section and enjoyed it so WHY back track that muderous road. 50 Bolivianos ($10AUD) and a station wagon crammed full of bags and dismembered bikes. Bob had to be lashed to the roof. Anita and I had to share the front seat. There weren't any seat belts so we were certain that being wedged into the front seat was relatively safe - the only other choice was to ride....
While we unloaded, re-assembled and prepared for departure we discussed tactics. It was agreed that we would be best travelling in the far left side of the three lanes of traffic. The first 2 to 2.5 lanes were consumed by Micros (mini-van buses) pulling in and out of traffic to suit the demands of their customers. It is an amazing part of El Alto/La Paz to hear the spruikers calling out their destinations and prices. Capitalism at its best. It certainly seems that the public get an excellent albeit cramped service and the mini-van owners seem to get maximum utility from their investment.
Regardless, for a cyclist, you don't want to be in that right hand 2.5 of lanes. All those micro drivers care about is inserting one more of those pedestrians into their mini-van post-haste!
As we rolled down through a different avenue than we entered some weeks ago we were amazed at the sprawl and industry of El Alto. It is Bolivia's fastest growing city and is the corner stone of the Water and Gas Wars that have illustrated the strength and power of the people in Bolivia over the last 8 or 9 years.
The people are primarily Aymara, have a strong sense of community and for better or worse are known for their communal judgements against criminals in their society. (Thus the thief/ladron 'dummy' hanging over La Paz in the last blog's photos).
As we finally rolled out of La Paz we breathed a sigh of relief - the danger value much reduced and the air quality much increased - we were smacked in the face by yes you guessed it.... A nasty head wind and BROWN. Ughh, my worst nightmare returned. Head wind and Brown. Will we ever get out of this altiplano place?
The saving grace was we could still see some of the Cordillera Real on our right. Unfortunately my belly gave way, which sank my legs so soon after a town called Batallas and within site of Lago Titicaca Minor, we called it a day.
Anita negotiated our camping area with some local Aymara campesinos (farmers). Anywhere up 'there' is fine they said. We hid our camp in a dry creek bed on a lovely patch of straw grass had some soup for dinner and crawled into bed. (in the tent the kitchen isn't so far the bedroom).
All was good til the local dog came snooping around waking us up. As soon as we shoo-ed him away the rain started. Yep, rain. On the dry altiplano. And we choose the creek bed for a camp.
I got up once, early on and all seemed ok. No flash floods brewing but I just couldn't relax for the night. Morning came, the rains eased, we were still pretty dry inside. (our first rain on the tent since our 'dry' run in Sydney in the PI$$ING rain before we left in April). Needless to say though, the rain was consistent all night it had hardly soaked the parched earth. No flash floods likely for a while yet. Bonus - all that Argentine dust was finally washed off the tent fly and the zips were running like new again!
We packed up and rode onto to Lake Titicaca. The scenery getting better with every kilometre. The blue water out pacing the BROWN faster than the sun tracking across the day. In fact, the brown was being replaced by a golden colour and the stark landscape was picking up more and more Eucalyptus. We stopped in a town called Huata for a very delicious trout lunch. It was early but Anita sniffed out a good waterfront restaurant and suspected we were onto a winner. She shoots, she scores. It was a winner. Great views. Great trout. We maxed and relaxed for nearly 2 hours before realising we had better roll on.
It was hard to roll on but we made it to Tiquina. It is the ferry town and a natural narrows between Lake Titicaca Minor and Lake Titicaca Major. The ferry's all look dodgy, floor boards are un-nailed and buses balance precariously on the planks as the waves rolled by.. It’s no wonder the passengers were forced to get off and ride another boat. hmmm.
We made it and on the other side we were confronted with 5 men intrigued by Bob and our flags. They loved our Bolivian flag and our Whiphala/Aymara/indigenous flag and they were rather pleased to advise that both were installed upside down. We apologised and said we would correct as soon as possible. They let us go and didn't mention any El Alto community/social style justice.
Unfortunately we didn't get far. Anita's cold was firming its grip and the road out of Tiquina was straight up hill. We found an Alojimento/hostal - of sorts - and stayed the night. It wasn't so nice. Beds were unsleepable but as the hail started we were rather pleased to not be riding or be in the tent. We cooked dinner in the courtyard. We were the only ones there. The owner stayed elsewhere. We were tucked away nicely on the floor in our sleeping bags when we could hear someone trying to get into the courtyard. Fortunately the cholita (traditionally dressed Bolivian woman) owner had warned me to bar the door (typically, the lock/latch didn't work) and I had it held with a ladder. The poor fellow (we suspect homeless and looking for a place to sleep out of the rain finally gave in and moved off). Still made for a second restless and rather scary night.
It was night's like this that remind us that sometimes this ain't no holiday!
Our third day of riding to Copacabana was glorious though. The wind was cold, the sun was burning and the views were sensational. We climbed with some flat sections for 30km. We hit 4251m above sea level. Our highest bit of riding to date and higher than Mt Robson in Canada or Mt Cook in NZ. Weird to consider. The reality is that it was just a hill only 400m above Lake Titicaca level.
The descent into Copacabana was a delicious 9km of coasting. Very little braking required until the end.
We found Wendy Mar Hotel. Super clean, relatively cheap (100Bs = $20AUD), a big storage room for our bikes, family run and most importantly very safe and secure while we spent three days on Isla del Sol.
With Marion and Ali safely arrived it took a game of paper, rock, scissors to determine whether to take the 830am or 130pm ferry to Isla Del Sol. Marion beat Ali and 130pm it was.
A 930am departure for breakfast was agreed with a return to La Cupula. OMG, the food there was so delicious. We could hardly tear ourselves away to explore Copacabana and the church.
The town’s plaza was full of vehicles being blessed. The people purchase flowers, adhere them to the vehicle and then walk around the car/van/truck pouring alcohol on the earth to make an offering to pachamama (mother earth).
I consider myself to be pretty relaxed about arriving 'just in time' for a bus, plane, boat departure but the girls proved themselves to be masters of JIT (just in time). Ali stepped on board the boat as they were undoing the ropes to set sail. But possibly she was reconsidering the journey - I certainly was while trapped in my seat with 70 other passengers and 4 life jackets. People think that riding a bicycle is dangerous. I spent the first 20 minutes considering how I would use the back pack to push the other drowning victims away while I attempted to get Anita and I safely to to shore.
I did soon settle into the trip and before we knew it we were already at the south end of the island, paying our $1AUD village entrance fee. It was pretty crazy with young touts attempting to sell accomodation and adorable children with their llamas selling their soul for a photograph. (it is amusing how quickly the cultural belief that a photograph takes part of your soul is discarded when there is an opportunity to earn some cash).
We climbed up past the throngs to Ali's suggestion of the hostal Inti Wayra. OMG, there aren't so many times on this trip when Anita and I actually feel like it is a 'real' honeymoon but this was it. Our room had windows on the north, east and south sides. We had views to Illamni and Lake Titicaca to the south ,Illampu and Lake Titicaca to the east, the Cordillera Real to the east and south and the Aymara village and Lake Titicaca to the north. This room was wonderful and the sort of place you would want to go if you needed to hide from the world for a week with a pile of books. Relaxing, peaceful and buena vistas.
Marion, Anita and I left Ali with her book while we went exploring the ridge top of the south end. We didn't find the small ruins but we were gob smacked by the scenery and the smells of the gum trees. The vegetation could have been the Blue Mountains. Dry dirt, rocky ground, scrub, and eucalyptus. You don't get views like that in the Blue Mountains though: glacier capped mountains with a deep blue coloured lake. Rocky Mountains maybe but Titicaca is enormous so the scale is completely different.
As the sunset we rejoined Ali for dinner at one of the numerous gringo restaurants on the ridge line to watch the sunset. Yet another glorious finish to yet another glorious day on Lake Titicaca.
As we returned from dinner and descended to our hotel, we were greeted by a full moon just risen over the Cordillera Real. The light was so strong that it cast shadows and you could almost see colours in the monochromatic light. The four of us had more drinks in the 'honeymoon suite' and marvelled at our good fortune to be in such a place at such a time and to have found excellent new friends to share it with.
We didn't close our curtains for the night and when I woke a few hours later the moon had arched across the sky and now shone its light back on to Illampu. And as the sun rose the next morning we watched from our bed the light of the new day play across Titicaca.
It was a slow start to the day but we got going after a delicious included breakfast (most hotels in south America include breakfast but not many can be described as delicious) of pancakes, muesli, juice, and Coca Tea.
We climbed up the ridge and headed to the north end of the island filled with anticipation. Today we were going to visit some ruins called the Labyrinth, a ceremonial table where the Inca's sacrificed their virgens and the first footprints of the sun and moon that have birth to Inca mythology.
It was a few hours of walking and vista inhalation before we were warned that there were attack dogs on the path and they were known to bite. I felt like we were now in some sort of medieval journey and that there would be some sort of two headed dog monster we would need to confront before seeing the labyrinth and golden footprints.
We armed ourselves with available ammunition - rocks and marched on to meet our fate. Within 30 minutes we could hear the two headed, 8 legged monster with its varied pitch roar baying for human blood. We steeled ourselves for the confrontation and unleashed our frontal attack. With rocks hurling and a couple of them leaving their mark, we managed to secure a safe passage onto the labyrinth. (Ali did find an article once back in La Paz by a woman whose husband had been bitten by the smaller half of the monster - its always the little dogs that sneak in for the bite, eh?)
We stopped at the big stone table and imagined all those virgens happily giving it up for the greater good of society before tackling our final challenge in the labyrinth. As it turned out, the labyrinth was no match for our intellect and we quickly and easily found the water well. From there our path to the footsteps was clear and uninhibited.
As I stood in the foot prints where the sun and the moon were born and I had an epiphany. I suddenly realised the answer to all the world's questions. Amazingly it wasn't 42*. I do look forward to sharing my insights with those who do make the arduous journey and stand in that same place one day.
We still had some way to get to the village of Challapampa and a place to sleep for the night. We ended up in Refugio Alfonso. A pretty funky little place way up on the hill to the south end of the village. Full of hippies and inca cosmological insights. Not quite a honeymoon suite but the price was right. I did have a warm shower - Alfonso fills up 2L water bottles and when they have warmed in the sun he empties them into a big overhead container. Voila! Warm shower!
Prices for the room were based on what you could afford and aligned to the inca cosmology numeric series: 13, 20, 33, 52, 65, 73, .... To infinity. We chose 13 .... Bolivianos...about $2.5AUD each. (Breakfast wasn't included but was only 12Bs. )
As the weekend wound down we began to dream again of eating at La Cupula. Fortunately we managed to get on an earlier boat owned by a local Challapampian heading to the border of Peru on the mainland for a festival in Khasani. He was happy to drop us off at Copacabana. I had a nice 'chat' with the fellows son - Ramiro, 24 and already missing some teeth but proud of his Nokia mobile phone. Bizarre.
We arrived to La Cupula in time for lunch and as the restaurant closed the doors behind us a swag of Bolivians school children came in to practise the English and sing songs. They weren't quite harmonious but it was a wonderful way to finish off an excellent three days. Oh, and the iced coffee/Afogato was the best I had ever tasted.
We said our sad goodbyes and made our way back to the Wendy Mar Hotel. All our gear was safe and sound but it took must of the night to pack up and get ready for our ride to Cusco...
Stuart and Anita
• Refer to Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy.
Posted byStuart Kane at 3:15 PM
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