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Published: August 25th 2012
The journey to lake titticaca was as pleasant as can be.. We arrived at copacabana, a small town that sits on the Bolivian coast.Its a bohemian wonderland with an array of taxi boats all begging you for your custom, the particular custom being to bounce you over to the isle de sol.
Now, when most people think of the isle de sol, they think of the indegionous people who live on the island, the sacraficial henge, the religious importance it has, and the beautiful surroundings..
My first thoughts were.. boss place to go camping 😊 and in my exuberance to finally get the tent out thought the island would be a popular place for such excursions, but after arriving at the north port of the island and walking up hill for 2 hours with 20 kg rucksacks on our backs, at an altitude of 4000m, we discovered camping sites where not only not in abundance, they ceased to exist. This was no shell island!!
Andy took the lead as I was still recovering from having taken 3 Valium on the coach the night before and hadn't really come to grips with the fact that my body was moving.
Our first choice of unofficial camping site andy thought was adequate was a remote beach with the decor of 'how clean is your house' before pictures. Life of grime special. I mean kudos to him.. There were lots of things to sit on... Empty pooh barrels.. An array of tins to maybe create some sort of scrap heap terminator.. But romantic solitary solice it was not...
Webby here, now a fine camp site it was, I mean full of character, and is that not the grounds on which to build an abode? Plus years of watching bear grylls has taught me the importance of a length of yarn and rotting pig corpse... Alas, onwards and upwards, a few tantrums from us both lead us to wander further up the rock facetowards the sun, much like the original inca tribes, see, cultural bonding...this trip isn't just beer and buses!
Once at the top, and not to my surprise, it was false summit...
Georgi here... Yes. A . False. Summit. After a heated discussion regarding our litter land haven to be an inadequate place to camp, we decided to head upwards and vanquish all bad feelings with a deliciously purfYing sunset... The walk went on. We slugged our way up wondering if this hill would ever end. Alas, we could see a patch of forest glowing in the near distance, we looked to each other... This was it. The redeeming feature in our oh so painful struggle.....
Erm no. It wasn't. It was nothing more than a false horizon. Grazing grounds for the lost souls.. Amidst with lamas and pigs who shared our pain we decided to swerve the sun an head downwards, unaware of our direction, but in luck as socialisation shone before us! Lost yet completely at home with the earth beneath out feet and the strars beginning to dominate the sky, we came across a beach of sand, piglets and the occasional child skipping to and forth between school grounds.
We'd found our haven.
Webby i.....Tent pitched, I went in search of timbers and kindling... A real man, as prior mentioned, bear grylls coursing through my mind it was my task to make survival a paramont on these foreign shores. We'd camped on the sand, right against a high cliff wall. I'd spotted a path to a wooded area which would provide us with the necessary utensils for life, however the cliff provided much quicker access. Patientence is my worst virtue. Cliff it was. Head lamp on,off I went. There wasn't much wood available, without hacking down a birch tree, I managed to snare a few roots and such, which upon returning to the camp via the cliff I promptly dropped in the lake. Undeterred I returned, with my wet wood. No euphemism, I only went in up to my ankles...
We left camp. Follow the lights. Always works. Leads to a small shop were we bought food and, of course fire wood. Back at camp, hope in our hearts I fired up the fire. It was getting down to -10c...cold times....
G here: The shop was more of a deserted shed of sorts, andunlike most vendors the old bird at this store was not too pleased to see us, and even more displeased by the fact that she had to use her calculator to add up all the items we'd purchased (surely mass profit should equal happiness)
Bread crisps and snickered up we were ready for anything! We thought.
However.. Bear grylls enthusiast webby, went to bed unequipt. And due to a sock less evening he rolled around in a state of hyperthermia, until eventually reaching for the quad of Valium an passing out horizontally in our tiny tent.
Moral of this story.. Put your socks on knob!
The island we explored the following day,and it is exquisite.. Views of floating islands and truly enticing water. pigs hanging out like teenagers at bus stops and donkeys cruising the land freely.
Next stop Colombia...
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