Cotopaxi, Ecuador

After relaxing in Baños, we were ready for our next adventure: climbing Cotopaxi. Cotopaxi is Ecuador´s most famous volcano, likely because of its near-perfect conical shape, extensive glaciers, and close proximity to Quito. The summit, which is 5,897 meters (roughly 19,350 feet) high and very near to the Equator, overlooks Quito and the surrounding volcanoes. 

Michael and I on the summit of Cotopaxi!

Michael and I decided we would do this climb by ourselves instead of hiring a guide. After spending one night in Latacunga (a somewhat nice town between Baños and Quito), we rented the necessary gear and found transportation to the parking lot below Cotopaxi´s refugio, a large climbing lodge with a kitchen and bunk beds. At $45 for the two of us, it was the most expensive lodging of our trip so far.

The weather was terrible the day before our attempted climb (it is the rainy season right now). It rained all day at the lower elevations and snowed more than a foot up on the mountain. We couldn´t see much of anything from the refugio at first, but then the skies cleared in the late evening revealing a breathtaking view of the lights of Quito and giving us more hope for a good climb.

Since we didn´t know the exact route through the crevasse field, we waited for the other groups with guides to get a head start – there were four teams (9 people in total), including us.  Our plan was to follow the guides, which conveniently also meant they, not us, would ¨break trail¨ - i.e. cut a path through the foot of fresh snow (which is very tiring work).  Unfortunately, by the time we reached the first major crevasse, we had already caught up to the front team. The hired-guide ahead soon realized our plan, got upset and basically started talking trash to the other guides about us for not hiring a guide (they ate those words later, but I´ll get to that). Michael has an incredibly good sense of the flow of glaciers and the best routes to follow, so we forged on ahead in the lead – through all the snow, no less.

Unfortunately, we were followed by another American, a college student studying abroad in Ecuador named Nick.  Let´s just say now that Nick is not the hero of this story.  Nick had NO climbing experience whatsoever, had not acclimatized, didn´t hire a guide, didn´t talk to anyone about the route, how to climb or what to expect, and apparently thought he could simply stroll to the top. We didn´t realize he had come completely alone until he followed our tracks over an ice bridge that, without being roped up to anyone else, was incredibly dangerous. The other teams were close behind and watched him follow us. The hired-guides yelled at us that his actions were extremely dangerous (as if we were responsible) and said that we had to put him on our rope despite the fact that each of them had more rope and safety gear than our rudimentary set-up.

Roughly 1,000 feet below the summit, just before sunrise

In retrospect, I think this climb (and the forced addition of Nick to our team) truly deepened my appreciation of Michael as a guide and climbing partner. Despite how we were treated by the hired-guides and Nick´s ignorant and risky decision to climb alone without experience, Michael was incredibly generous and put Nick´s safety above our own desire to climb together and at our own pace. Rather than explaining to the hired-guides that we had no responsibility for Nick´s incredibly poor judgment, Michael re-worked the rope so that Nick could join us, taught him the basic elements of climbing, and set the pace at however fast Nick could go, helping him along the way and patiently taking breaks when Nick needed them. We carried on up the volcano at about half the speed we had been going without him, but with the knowledge that he was safe.

The other teams passed us in the time it took to add Nick, but we caught up with them soon after when the hired-guides got stuck between a large crevasse and an ice cliff, and appeared to be ready to turn around. Michael, not so easily discouraged, found a passable route and led all of us safely across. He proceeded to break trail through the snow for most of the difficult and steep portions of the climb. Those hired-guides didn´t have anything negative to say to us after that.

Climbing past one of many ice cliffs along the route

About 1,000 feet from the top, Michael was able to convince Nick to give up on the summit while allowing Nick to save face. Nick had been stumbling like he was drunk from the altitude and exhaustion and I found it amazing how Michael somehow made it feel like it was Nick´s choice to stop. Michael gave Nick his warm down jacket and the two of us took off for the summit, passing the other teams and reaching the top much later than anticipated, but still with enough time to safely descend.

The summit was gorgeous! The crater was incredible – it was like nothing I have ever seen before. A sea of clouds hovered below us, rising steadily and obscuring the view of the ground below, but it was still breathtaking.  In the distance, we could see the rising smoke from Tungarahua´s on-going eruption (which we had seen close-up in Baños).  One by one, the other teams made it to the top as well, some of the less-experienced climbers being almost dragged to the top behind the guides and barely able to stand from the altitude.

We didn´t linger at the top, given the late hour and the avalanche danger posed by the foot of new snow on top of a sheet of ice. We descended quickly, until we picked up Nick again. Much of the way down, I was torn between anger that Nick´s stupidity was making this the slowest descent ever and fear that his exhaustion and lack of experience would cause a serious accident and ruin the rest of our trip. But Michael was patient and verbally encouraging the whole way, which reminded me that the safest thing to do was also be patient and keep my negative thoughts to myself so Nick could do his best to get himself safely down the mountain – my criticism would only distract him and put us more at risk. Michael also took several additional safety precautions on the critical passages that saved Nick from falling down the steeper parts and sweeping us both into a crevasse. My anger at Nick was overshadowed by my appreciation for Michael.

Our descent through extremely thick fog

Once past the last major crevasse field, the descent was uneventful and we made it safely back to the refugio after about 10 hours of climbing. I have to brag that, despite our pace being cut in half while we helped Nick, Michael and I were the last team to leave the refugio in the morning, the first team to summit Cotopaxi that day, and still the first team to arrive back at the refugio. I think our time spent climbing and trekking at higher altitudes is paying off.

Michael and I at the refugio (it was cold!), playing Cribbage

We got back to Latacunga that afternoon and slept for roughly 16 hours before breakfast the next morning. After a rest day, we will be on our way to Quito to meet my parents, who are coming to visit for the next two weeks! We are so excited to see them, to share some adventures with them, and to spend a few nights in comparative luxury!

Baños, Ecuador

At 2 p.m. Pacific Standard Time, the exact moment the test results for the Oregon bar exam were released, Michael and I were still sitting on a bus in rural Ecuador, stuck watching old Jackie Chan movies, our stomachs in knots. We planned on hopping off the bus at a stop somewhere to check the internet, but either we never had enough time or the internet cafe was closed due to of Semana Santa. When we arrived in Baños – four hours after the results were released! - all the internet cafes there were also closed. We finally begged a hostal owner to let us use his computer to check our results and…

WE BOTH PASSED THE BAR!

We screamed with excitement and hugged each other, leaving the hostal owner to wonder at what had just happened. I literally cried tears of relief. It was a huge weight lifted from our shoulders.

Happy, but also hungry and exhausted, we set out to find a reasonably-priced place to eat and celebrate. Due to Semana Santa, all hostals and hotels had at least tripled their prices.  Semana Santa was about the same in Baños as it was in Cuenca – crawling with people (all Ecuadorians, not international tourists) driving ritzy and expensive cars (including new F150s and Hybrid Tahoes) down the main street while blasting Spanish rap and drinking their way through town. I felt like I had been transported back to my home town of Fresno, California!

Once Easter Sunday rolled around (which is not nearly as celebrated as Good Friday, the day we arrived), the masses of people left the city and it was actually quite a nice little town! We found a hostal with a lovely garden and hammocks, soaked up the “sacred water” of the natural hot springs, and ate the best spaghetti of the trip so far for three dinners in a row.

The on-going eruption of Tungarahua, with stars in the background

But, hands down, the highlight of Baños was that we arrived just as the volcano looming over town, named Tungarahua, began to erupt.  It was so cool (SO COOL!! according to Michael).  Accounts vary as to the last time it erupted (from 1 to 11 years ago), but it is, apparently, not a very common event. On our first night in Baños, we drove 3,000 ft up a hill on the opposite side of town with a good view of the volcano and, after waiting for 1.5 hours for the clouds to clear, got to see the bright red lava erupting from the center and flowing down the sides of the volcano. It was amazing. 

The smoke from Tungarahua and lights of Baños, just after sunset

The second night, we drove even higher up for sunset and Michael took some fantastically out-of-this-world pictures before the clouds flooded in.  After waiting in vain for three hours for it to clear, we walked 1.5 hours back to Baños via the freakiest, most-murder-scene, pitch-black and fog-shrouded road imaginable. 

Tungarahua´s lava, flowing high above Baños

The last night, I stayed in town to Skype while Michael gave it yet another try and had a little more luck before the clouds, once again, obscured the volcano. I think he still entertains the idea of returning to Baños only to sit up there waiting for the clouds to clear long enough for him to get the picture he wants…

Cuenca, Ecuador

After many calculations and discussions with tour agencies, we decided it was worth the money to fly our way to Ecuador instead of taking a bus (Peru is a HUGE country!). So, instead of nearly 60 hours by bus, not including any connections or stops, we flew from Cusco to Lima, then from Lima to Tumbes (the northernmost city with an airport in Peru). From Tumbes, we took a bus to Machala, Ecuador that same evening. It was incredible to see the changes in scenery from snow-capped mountains (Cusco) to city (Lima) to jungle-like, banana-plantations (Tumbes/Machala) all in one day.

We slept in the next morning to stave off getting sick from exhaustion and then went on a quest for breakfast at lunch time. That was amazingly difficult. We finally find a place to eat and promptly learned that, in Ecuador, a “tortilla” is an omelet. We also learned that the portions here are gigantic, and it shows in the people. There may have been some big-boned people in Bolivia and Peru, but Ecuador was our first brush with obesity since leaving the States.

Soon after our hearty meal, we found a bus to Cuenca, our second UNESCO world heritage site of the week (the first being Machu Picchu).  

The New Church, built in the 19th Century, during Semana Santa

During our time in Cuenca (and Baños), a couple of things stood out to us that were different than Bolivia and Peru. First, there is a lot of Ford, Chevrolet, and Jesus. We had several men jump on our buses to preach and collect money “for God”. Perhaps because Ecuador has a stronger political relationship with the U.S. (including using the American dollar as currency), American companies are all over the place. The cars are clearly not hand-me-downs like we´ve seen before, but brand new SUVs that we would not be able to afford as attorneys in the U.S. for several years.

Second, eateries serving gelato, ice cream and other sweets are prolific – they far out-number the restaurants serving actual food. And, unfortunately, the sweets are extremely good… Cuenca was a dangerous place for my sweet-tooth. Perhaps this relates to the obesity rate.

Third, just about everyone wears modern style clothing in the cities. Skinny jeans and leggings abound and, unfortunately, the principle “skinny jeans are for skinny people” has not caught on. The wraps and blankets holding babies to women´s backs are no more – instead there are double-wide strollers pushed through the streets by couples that look no more than fifteen years old. Both Michael and I are a bit disappointed so far in the lack traditional culture, but it´s early yet and perhaps things will be different as we travel to other parts of the country.

Fourth, no one knows how to operate car alarms.  The sound of alarms going off is a continuous background noise (both day and night).  The rate of driver error to actual theft is, no joke, at least 10,000 to 1.  It´s grating on the nerves after a while.

Last, staring at people is not uncommon, or rude… I think. It has been a bit awkward at times for us, especially during meals. It´s hard to get used to being stared at.

Cuenca is a beautiful city known for its seven churches, all built before Oregon was even close to statehood. We were there for a few days of Semana Santa, the holy week before Easter, which appears to be a smaller version of Carnival based around the front steps of the churches. After watching a truly-talented, symphonic orchestra perform ¨Sacred Music¨ at The Old Church (on one side of the plaza), Michael and I wandered around The New Church (on the other side) where hundreds of people were lighting candles, listening to street performers, and eating cotton candy, candied apples, steak and potatoes grilled on sticks, popcorn and this odd, flavored, whipped-cream-like substance on ice cream cones topped with jelly and a piece of bubble-gum (random, yet tasty). It was a fun evening of people-watching, although completely contrary to our American experience of Easter. Unlike our white, frilly and conservative dresses symbolizing purity, it seemed more common to wear revealing clothing for the all-night clubbing to come. Nor was there any shyness about using the holiday to make as much money off the masses going to church as possible… not to be too cynical :)

The chaotic scene of church-goers and vendors in Cuenca during Semana Santa

Unfortunately, there wasn´t much else to do in Cuenca but see the churches and watch more people, both of which we had had our fill. So, we decided to leave the next day, April 22, the day the Oregon Bar published test results, for Banos, Ecuador.

Machu Picchu: mystical and awe-inspiring or a terrifying near-death experience?



Michael and I at the entrance to Machu Picchu

This tour was, hands down, the worst money we ever saved (and ultimately spent anyway).  We almost died.   Some quick background for those who have not been there: the primary way to get to Aguas Calientes, the town at the entrance to Machu Picchu, is by ¨the train¨, which is actually a bus from Cusco to Ollantaytambo and then a really nice train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes. This train is notoriously expensive (to us budget backpackers anyway). Alternatively, you can go by car on a road from Ollantaytambo to Hidroelectrica and then either a short train or walk 10 kms along the train tracks to Aguas Calientes, which saves the cost of the expensive train ticket, but adds a few hours of travel time.  Not wanting to miss seeing Machu Picchu, but also not wanting to break our budget to see one place, we booked the tour by car. 

Michael and I instantly did not like our driver or his little sidekick-assistant. They blasted bad music from the beginning and, when I politely asked that he turn it down a notch, he groaned like I was his mother and barely turned it down, then turned it back up soon after. With disingenuous politeness, I asked him to turn it down more than four times. He drove through crowded streets with complete disregard for people´s lives, sneering and gesturing at people, animals and drivers in his way. If only this were the worst of it…

He was annoying and rude on paved road, but became dangerously arrogant as the road went from a regular highway to a steep, one-car-wide dirt road with blind switchbacks, rockfall, sheer cliffs, and oncoming traffic. He turned the music up, danced with the sidekick, drummed on the steering wheel, and talked on his cell phone as we careened dangerously, the tires squealing, around corners. We asked him to slow down several times and he brushed us off like flies, then started talking badly about Americans to his sidekick and how well he knows this road (I understand more Spanish than I can speak…). 

Michael and I have endured (perhaps even enjoyed) some bad roads on this trip, but they were nothing close to how dangerous this road was with this driver. I felt so trapped and helpless that the fear was making me sick. At one point we came around a blind curve and almost went straight into another car, skidding to a stop about a foot from the 1,000 ft cliff. A bit later we careened around a corner to find a giant boulder had fallen on the road making it look impassable on the cliff-side of the rock. The driver proceeded like there was no danger at all. I found myself screaming at the top of my lungs “Stop! I want to walk!!” (in Spanish) several times in his ear, yet he would not let us out – and our door would only open from the outside. Michael, our hero, jumped over the seat and out the front window to let all of us prisoners er… passengers escape. The driver did make it past the boulder (with one or two inches to spare) but I was happy to be on my own two feet. When we finally stopped at the end of the road, the entire van was outraged at the driver and he and Michael came close to fight. It was awful. I have never been so terrified for my life.

Luckily, we left the driver and sidekick in Hidroelectrica and had a much more pleasant and competent guide for the rest of the tour. Our next leg was to walk 10 km (about 6 miles) to Agua Calientes, a nice flat trail along the train tracks and beside a raging canyon river with huge mountains looming above us. Unfortunately, just as the knots in my stomach eased, the sky let loose a torrential rain storm. Big, fat raindrops soaked us through within minutes. Michael didn´t have any plastic to cover his camera, so we found ourselves hiding out in a small house hoping the worst of the rain would pass in a few minutes. The owner politely informed us that it would last at least an hour and gave us some plastic bags. The group had continued walking, so we had a ways to catch up. Unfortunately, the sun was also setting and we had several miles to go. We trudged through the mud, soaking wet, in the darkness of the early evening. When we finally arrived in town, we learned that no one would dry our clothes before the next morning at 5am when we planned to leave for Machu Picchu. 

Thus, I unintentionally made my debut in leggings. Thankful for modern fashion trends, I wore my long underwear (the only clothes that I managed to keep dry) the entire next day without too many awkward looks. All of poor Michael´s clothes were soaked, making the rest of the trip a bit cold and uncomfortable for him.

We arrived at the ruins around sunrise and had about one hour of great views.  Machu Picchu is really is an incredible place – I can see why it is one of the Seven Wonders of the World.  Clouds soon obstructed all views of the majestic lost city as more and more people arrived to experience it. Even with the HOARDES of tourists and clouds, the ruins were a powerful sight to see.

One of many awe-inspiring moments at Machu Picchu (and Michael hasn´t even downloaded his pictures yet!)

While we were not successful in getting the agency to change our driver for the way back, enough of us had passionately complained that our guide assured us the driver would drive slowly and safely back. With our fingers crossed, we took the 30-minute train to Hidroelectrica and got back in the van. About another 30 minutes down the road (with the driver going a less-reckless speed), we turned a corner to find an impassable landslide. We were stopped just next to it when we realized that more rocks continued to fall all around us. Again, the driver refused to let us out so Michael had to jump through the window to release us and we all walked quickly back to safety. 

Our group now consisted of Michael and I and four Brazilians who were done with risking our lives and ready to shell out whatever money it took to get back to Cusco safely. Our driver, of course, refused to be a decent human being and drive us back to Hidroelectrica, so we all took cabs (which were arriving quickly to take advantage of the opportunity) back to the train. We barely made it before the train pulled out, thanks in large part to our Brazilian friends who grabbed our stuff for us, pushed us to the front of the line, and demanded that we be given tickets. We made it to Aguas Calientes and, with a stroke of luck, were able to get tickets on the main train back to Ollantaytambo and then a collectivo (a bus-like taxi) back to Cusco. We arrived late in the evening but were still able to catch a few hours of sleep before we had to be back at the airport the next morning for our flight to Lima. 

I will never forget our tour of Machu Picchu, but I would strongly recommend anyone who goes in the future to consider the train to be well worth the money.  It was the low point of our entire trip so far.

Cusco and Ausangate trek, near Tinque, Peru

Cusco was, by far, the richest place we´ve been so far. It is a very modern city with indoor shopping malls, fancy restaurants, and LOADS of tourists. The tourists make up a much greater cross section in this city than we saw in La Paz, with people of all different nationalities and ages roaming the streets (La Paz with has almost exclusively Israeli 20-somethings).

The best things to do in Cusco are to eat, drink, get massages, and shop. As expensive as those hobbies are, it was a bit dangerous for our budget. So we wandered the streets with famously old cathedrals and amazing, large walls of stone, then booked our next trek in the Andes.

A road near Tinque, Peru

We signed up for a 6-day, 5-night, guided trek around Nevado Ausangate – supposedly one of the top 10 hikes in the entire world.   At only $170/person, including a guide, horses, a cook, all food and transportation, the trip was a bargain. We had a terrific time and I could write pages about what happened on the trek and how beautiful the views were, but, instead, I will try to summarize the highlights.

Some curious children in a mountain village

Our group of 7 consisted of: (1) our guide, conveniently called “Guido,” who was a 20-year-old small guy who consistently gave us incredibly inaccurate information but was, otherwise, very nice; (2) Casiano, who we all called “The Horseman,” a stoic and experienced porter who worked several times harder than anyone else at every given moment by caring for all of our luggage and supplies, driving the horses in flip-flop-like shoes made of old tires, setting up and taking down camp every day, and cooking us hot, yummy home-made meals three times a day; (3) Violeta, a guide in training along to learn the route who did a whole lot of nothing and seemed to require a nap after peeling a carrot; (4) Jenny, a tourist from England and to-be lawyer with a soft spot for animals, (5) Alex, a good-humored Englishman and to-be financial analyst (he and Jenny are dating); (6) Michael and (7) myself.



Michael (and his new hat) with some traditional women who set up their ¨tienda¨ outside our tent

Our first night, we camped in a valley leading up the Ausangate mountain. Despite the miles of empty places where groups can camp, we, of course, ended up camping in the same 100-sqaure-foot area as a large Israeli group.  Fortunately, many of the boys (and *one* girl) were quite friendly and it turned into a bit of a party with lots of talking, wine, rum, a delicious three course meal prepared by The Horseman, and even a shared hookah. 



A llama farmer with one of her more tame llamas

The next day, we steadily climbed up the valley through marshy, low grasses and over small streams, passing llamas, sheep, traditional houses and watchdogs completely distraught with the unusual outsiders´ presence. One dog was particularly threatening, but when Guido threw a rock near it to keep it at bay, it eagerly chased the rock down like a much-wanted game of fetch. Perhaps it was just lonely :)

Crossing our first pass!

About the time we crossed over the highest pass of that day, the hail began. It hailed for the next several hours, on and off. We were a colorful group with red and orange jackets, pink, blue and yellow ponchos. The hail covered the next valley leading up to a glacial lake and our camp for the night with a heavy dusting of white, prompting Jenny to exclaim “it´s like Narnia!” It truly felt like some magical world we were entering.

 

Entering ¨Narnia¨

We had a short, impeccably-timed period of good weather that allowed us to set up our campsite for the evening. But, while sitting in our large cooking tent and waiting for dinner, the hail/snow began again and the wind began to really blow. Seemingly out of nowhere, a huge gust knocked down the side of the tent!  Jenny and I took our places as human tent poles to keep the whole structure from collapsing while Guido, Michael and Alex donned ponchos over their cold-weather clothes (looking awfully similar to teletubbies) and bravely went out into the storm to fix the tents.  The scene was quite chaotic.  As was his nature, the Horseman stoically re-lit the stove and carried on cooking as though nothing happened.  As was her nature, Violeta looked cold sitting in the corner. 

Everyone stayed in surprisingly good spirits, perhaps thanks to the rum and hot tea being passed around. Somehow during the fray, Alex found an old horses´ skull in the meadow which he cast into the tent after a strong gust of wind. Jenny and I both screamed but thought it was hilarious. After the tent was fastened securely and the tents salvaged, we enjoyed a wonderful meal, but for the men being covered in wet snow and rain. After a few more rum-teas, the wind died down and we went to bed. The sun dried everything out in the morning within a short time. Like clockwork, every afternoon we had a hail storm, some lasting longer than others, but that second day and night were particularly memorable.


Just another fantastic view on our trek, with llamas



Some llamas we passed on our trek

While not an informative guide, Guido did make some interesting contributions. Apparently he comes from a family of shamans and so, just below the highest pass of the trek (about 17,000 feet), he led us in a ritual to please the Apus (the mountain gods of Ausangate). We poured a little rum on the earth before taking a drink ourselves, made a wish on three coca leaves before burning them, and stood in silence while Guido said a prayer in Quechua, the traditional language of Peru. That was pretty cool.



Taylor on a ridge next to the glaciated Ausangate

A silhouette of Taylor with Ausangate in the background 

 Our last night we stayed near some thermal hot springs and had the traditional Pacha Manka, which means “earth oven” in Quechua. Basically, a lamb was slaughtered that morning by The Horseman´s son. Then The Horseman built a fire in a hole in the ground to heat of a bunch of rocks shaped like an igloo which were placed over the fire. Once hot enough, the sheep meat, yams and potatoes were inserted into the hole in the ground with the hot rocks, and then covered with grasses and dirt to cook for about 45 minutes. It was delicious. I´ve never eaten so much meat in my life. The little tienda below was well-stocked with cheap wine and our evening turned into quite a celebration, culminating in an enthusiastic drinking game of Quarters with all of our crew, even Violeta. We didn’t stumble to our tents until almost midnight, an unheard-of bedtime during a trek.



Our group around our Pacha Manka dinner, just before our game of Quarters began

Michael & Alex chowing down on some baby sheep

While the trek was awesome, it was a bit of a relief to get back to Cusco and have a nice long shower.

Lake Titicaca (Copacabana and Isla del Sol), Bolivia

While generally Bolivians are nice, they are not always the most helpful, at least regarding information that we consider important. One example was getting a direct bus from Sorata to Copacabana (“Copa”), the hub of activity on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca. We asked the bus company if there were direct buses and, if so, how often. Their response: “Every day at 10 am.” So we showed up the next day before 10 am, only to be told the bus only leaves if there are 10 or more people “so go find 8 of your friends.” That would have been helpful information before we made our plans.

Not having 8 friends who wanted to immediately leave for Copa, we went to the other bus company, took a bus to La Paz, and got dropped off at the town with the turn off to Lake Titicaca. Turns out that that “town” was a dusty intersection of roads without food, bathrooms or anything else to occupy our time. We sat on our backpacks for over an hour eating a mashed avocado, stale crackers, and old beef jerky – our poorly planned reserves of energy for the journey. After watching seemingly hundreds of buses and minibuses going to the wrong destination, we finally caught a bus to Copa.

Copa is a funky little rastafarian town in an ideal location on Lake Titicaca with the best (and cheapest) trout I´ve ever had in my life. Michael decided to eat only trout for the duration of our time there – breakfast, lunch, and dinner - and, for the most part, succeeded. Shops with hand-made jewelry, people with dreads, and restaurants blasting Bob Marley marked the main street leading down to the port. We dropped our bags at a hostal, found a place to eat on the beach, and soaked up the beautiful sunset.

Copacabana, an hour before sunset

The moment the sun went down, the temperature dropped precipitously. Despite its Mediterranean feel by day, the cold reminded us that we were still 13,000 feet above sea level.

The next morning, we boarded a boat to Isla del Sol – an island in the middle of Lake Titicaca.  The boat was packed with tourists like cattle, a cacophony of languages jumbled together with the excitement of leaving for the island. We had finally joined the official Gringo Trail. Surprisingly, however, we were the only ones to get off on the South side of the island near Yumani (the largest of the three small island settlements) and we hardly saw other tourists during the rest of our stay. Our theory is that most people take day trips around the island and few actually stay overnight, at least this time of year.  The reason why evades me, as Isle del Sol is a wonderful place to hang out for a few days.

The sheer size of Lake Titicaca is astounding. It´s more like a stranded ocean in the mountains. The blue-green water, the terraced hilltops growing crops, the Mediterranean feel, and the surrounding snow-capped peaks put this spot on our list as one of the most special places we´ve seen.

Storm clouds brewing over a small fraction of Lake Titicaca

There are two well-maintained trails on the island (no roads or motorized vehicles of any kind): one follows the ridge and the other winds around the coastline through the other two communities. We spent most of the second day taking both these trails as a loop around the island, sharing the path with herds of sheep, groups of mules and the occasional runaway pig. We passed the school right as it ended, and found ourselves walking home with the schoolchildren from the next community over. The girls talked in small clusters while the “cool” boys blasted Bolivian techno music on a hand-held radio, a poor mule frantically trying to stay ahead of the pack and away from the noise. The whole island is an interesting mix of historical and modern ways of life; tourist shops set up next to the field being tilled by a family with – no joke - a large animal horn as a hoe.  

As the sun started to set, we found a little un-cultivated terrace overlooking the lake, shielded from the wind, and enjoyed a cheap bottle of wine. After dusk, we made our way back to Yumani for yet another meal of delicious trout.

Our wine spot

While we could easily have lounged there for several days, we had done about everything that we wanted to do. So the next day we caught our cattle boat back to Copa and the first bus leaving for Cusco, Peru.