Copacabana, Lake Titicaca and Isla del Sol

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Copacabana, Bolivia lacks the international renown of its more famous Brazilian namesake and this is entirely justified. We arrived via collectivo (a minibus), ferry and then collectivo once again. The ferry, one for us and a flatbed raft for the minibus was to avoid an outrageously long detour and cut the journey time to four hours from La Paz. We'd arrived in Copacabana at around 1pm and unfortunately by this time the hostel we'd had our eye on was fully booked. Instead we strolled the beach and sought out alternative accommodation. The beach is, incidentally, what the two Copacabanas have in common. We found the hostel nestled next to the jetties which would enable the next part of our journey to Isla del Sol.

The hostel, a pale green concrete block offered a bed and shower. No WiFi or charm but a bed at least. At this point the weight of our bags made its influence felt and we took the room. Bags off, we headed out to see what the Bolivian Copacabana had to offer and, more importantly, find some food.

Copacabana a la Brazil had surfing, football, volleyball, speedo/bikini clad sun worshippers, caprihanas and Alan Shearer. Copacabana a la Bolivia has swan pedalos, stalls selling fish suppers and some stray dogs. They do both share the sun, Isla del Sol, a few miles away from the shore is where, according to Inca myth, the sun was born. Standing on the sun soaked waterfront it was easy to appreciate why.

Copacabana, despite the lack of charm is fully equipped for tourists. We purchased our ferry tickets to Isla de Sol in preparation for the next day. I sat down to some Bolivian Lomo Saltado (a dish of beef, chips, onions and a spicy tomato based gravy) and Bekah enjoyed some trucha (trout). The restaurant cat joined us and was rewarded with a few scraps of meat and fish. We also perused the numerous souvenir/tat shops before purchasing our bus ticket to Peru for two nights hence. All this was done within 100 metres of the beach. Aside from the tourist facilities and sun, there really wasn't anything to write home about, so I won't.

We woke early the next morning to catch the ferry to Isla del Sol. We planned to spend one night in the north of the island before hiking to the south, catching the ferry back to Copacabana and then catching the bus to Peru. The local stands all open early to cater for tourists taking the first crossing of the day (of which there are only two daily) and we eagerly purchased our breakfast/lunch of empanadas and fruit before getting in line to board. Climbing aboard the two storey wooden hulled vessel, we narrowly missed out on sitting upon the coveted top deck. Only the cool kids got to hang out there. Instead we sat, perched next to the two outboard motors and the driver.

The crossing took around two hours. Sat at the back it was difficult to gauge how far we had travelled but as we stepped off the boat and onto Isla del Sol it was clear we were a long way from civilisation and a million miles from Copacabana.

The island of Isla del Sol is situated 3800 metres above sea level and is cut off from the world by Lake Titicaca (the highest navigable lake in the world). Aside from the animals farmed and the vegetables grown on the terraces of the island, everything has to be shipped in. It's a rocky outcrop on which the buildings, constructed of mud, wood and rock conspire to make you forget all the concrete and tarmac you've ever seen.

We found a hostel nestled in the rocks above the bay at which we'd arrived. The collection of huts, moulded into hillside cost B$20 (£1.80) per person per night. They offered a fantastic view of the bay and although basic, suited the feel of the island perfectly. The sun still beating down, we dropped our bags, filled up our water bottles and clambered down the hill in search of the Inca trail around the north of the island.
Each section of the island has a trail, the entrance fee for which you pay separately. As we began the northern trail we bumped into the Londoners we'd met earlier, both in Santa Cruz and Sucre. Teaming up, we followed the trail around a ruined Inca temple, sacrificial table (think Aslan of Narnia fame) and a multitude of peaks, each offering panoramic views of the lake, a bay, the island or any combination of the above.

Splitting up from the guys at lunchtime; Bekah and I clambered down to a bay overlooked by the Inca temple. We dipped our feet in the ice cold water and enjoyed an empanada in the blazing midday sun.

The final challenge of the day was to be the highest peak in the north of the island at around 4000 metres above sea level. Bekah set out on the sensible route back along the well trodden Inca (now tourist) trail. I decided to go off-piste, directly up the hillside. Scrambling up the bone dry rock face I made it to the top, gulping in the air which had 60% of the oxygen it normally does at sea level. Bekah joined me at the top shortly afterwards. We took in the view, it was literally breathtaking. A thunderstorm was rolling over the coast of Lake Titicaca. Isla del Sol, still drenched in sunshine, provided the perfect viewing point to see the forks of lightning and the lashing rain.

The island appeared to be abandoned after 3pm. This is because the day trippers take the last ferry back to the mainland, whilst those intrepid travellers who have decided to stay head back to their huts, grab torches (there are no streetlights on the island since there are no streets to light) and head out for trucha caught earlier that day from the lake. We did just this.

The next morning we set out on our trek to the south of the island in order to catch the ferry that afternoon. We had decided on a 7am start, mainly because I wanted to reach the summit of each peak vaguely close to our route. Bekah reluctantly but sportingly agreed to indulge this. We picked up a few stones to place on the cairns at the top of each peak and set off.

At the midway point we enjoyed a coca tea with two puppies huddled on the trail. It was at this point that Bekah and I went on our separate routes. She took the more sensible route as described by the the map and followed by everyone walking around the island. I went off-piste again. The normal trail did not take in the highest peak on the island as it's located in the far west and requires you to descend to the level on the lake before climbing again. Unperturbed I headed off.

Two and a half hours later we met back up. I had scrambled down the rock face to 3800m, then puffed and panted my way up the hill to the rocky peak, placing my stone on the cairn before walking the ridge along the west of the island. Once this was complete I clambered down again before reascending the central peak of the island to meet back up with Bekah. It was knackering. I had drunk all my water and was wet through with sweat from the blasting midday sun. But it was worth it. There was not another soul along the route and the views were spectacular.

Reunited, we walked (well, I staggered) the final few hundred metres to the ferry on the south of the island. This time around we were determined to sit on top of the boat and so we eagerly dashed to the front of the queue. Taking out seat on top, we set off (after the customary South American delay). We now learned how far Copacabana was; the answer, not very far. The two hours of the journey were spent watching the boat move at walking pace towards the shore. The cool kids definitely weren't cool either, not sat on top of the boat being baked and burnt by the sun anyway. After enduring two hours of frustration and baking we clambered off the boat and onto the waiting bus. Next stop, Peru.

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