Like a gift straight from heaven

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We waited. And waited. And waited. Finally the bible group was ready to go. Decked out in the latest in tourist merchandise and speaking loudly with their terrible spanish, my two Argentine friends and I rolled our eyes. It was going to be a long boat ride and we were already almost an hour late.

The small ferry chugged along slower than a game of cricket. Apparently there is a gentlemans agreement amongst all the fisherman that no one is to get a faster boat and instead subject tourists to the equivalent of deep sea water torture. The slow pace enhanced the risk of frost bite and we tried to bundle up against the cold. We were headed to Isla Del Sol, Island of the Sun. It was freezing and about to rain.

After several hours of listening to the importance of religion in the lives of celebrities, I was just about to jump overboard when the boat docked. We clamboured out and almost fell over ourselves trying to get away from the doo gooders in brightly coloured felt hats.

Alas, they were in our guided group. We considered tackling the island on our own but realised visiting the Inca ruins without information would be little more than a walk to look at pretty things.

So we conceded defeat and impatiently waited while they all purchased rain ponchos and squabbled with the indigenous women over the equivalent of 10 cents.

Eventually, before we lost our toes to the cold, we started walking. There was ice and snow on the path and there was nothing so far to indicate that this indeed was the island of the sun.

As the sun started to melt the ice, the guided part of the tour finished and our patience for the bible group hardened. We made a break for it. The trek from the North to the South of the island was hardly a leisurely stroll. At 3000m, and coupled with the incredible view of Lake Titicaca, it was enough to take your breath away.

Normally groups have three hours to do it, but thanks to our door knocking friends we had only an hour and half. Not the quickest of walkers, and inclined to want to enjoy the view, it took us a little longer than that and the departure time for the boat was soon upon us.

Anticipating trouble, my fiesty German friend and one of the Argentines tore away to hold the boat for us. As we slipped down the last set of stairs to the jetty we came upon an all out brawl between the captain of the boat, my german friend and the floppy hats. Seems they were indignant about our tardiness and oblivious to the fact that it was their fault essentially.

We leapt aboard just as the rope was being pulled loose and lay panting in the seats, ignoring the icy stares. The hum of the motor wasn´t nearly enough to drown out the two hour conversation on the best types of windows for churches.

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Photos

My walking buddies
Two Argentines and a German