11/3/2012 - Getting burnt on Isle del Sol

I'd allowed myself plenty of time to get ready for my 8am boat to Isle del Sol so I was somewhat surprised when the hostel owner, with whom I'd booked the trip, burst into my room at half past seven and asked me where the hell I was. Oh yeah... the hour time difference between Bolivia and Peru.

Boarding the boat among the scathing looks of fellow passengers who'd been waiting a good half an hour, I perched myself next to the captain and we set off for our destination. Our journey saw us hug the coast and retrace much of the journey I had done yesterday and I had a good natter with the captain about the various villages we spotted en route.

Finally arriving at Isle del Sol around 10 am we disembarked and I was in an exploratory mood. As I followed the path to the north of the island I was confronted by a man insisting I had to buy a 10 Boliviano (£1) ticket to progress. I was struck by an inexplicable determination to not pay this minuscule amount, complained bitterly to the guy about the injustice of having to pay just to walk along a path and asked him if there was any way in which I could avoid this trail. He pointed to the steep rocky incline to the left of the path and said “Straight up... but you'll bump into more ticket checkpoints later”. I decided to take my chances and started the ascent.

Isle del Sol is gorgeous. As I reached the summit of the hill it turned out I was climbing, I was struck by just how idyllic the setting was. Floating in the middle of the spookily still Lake Titikaka the island felt like a forgotten world of hills and pastures, hardly touched by humans. I barely noticed the Inca ruins on the island – the natural beauty trumped any attempt by the Inca culture to steal the show. I turned off the main track and headed for the west coast of the island, walking for several hours without seeing another soul until, atop one of the hills, I bumped into a sheep herder who lived on the island. As we paused at the summit and chatted about where else I could explore while I was here, he pointed out 2 playful eagles, swooping and diving majestically in the valley below us. This place was ridiculous.

The sun beat down heavily as I topped the highest summit on the island (which thankfully wasn't high) and caught a glimpse of Peru on the distant shore. Eventually I made my way back onto the beaten track. As promised, I did bump into a couple of ticket checkpoints, but they were negotiated surprisingly easily by asserting that I had already bought a ticket and walking briskly away as the weary ticket inspector called after me to produce it. There were several communities living on the island and the majority now made their money from tourism as opposed to traditional methods. I made it to the village of Yumani a few hours before sundown and found lodgings in a half finished hostel which nonetheless had comfortable beds and awesome views over a scenic bay. I'd been walking for over 6 hours so it was with weary feet that I headed along the village's main street in search of food. Stumbling into one of the many touristy looking establishments I was confronted by 3 Aussies, twins Francis and Scarlett and their friend Grace, who were following a similar path to me. Once we'd ordered and were sat chatting, it became apparent that the owner of the place had to either ring up the chef to come cook for us or obtain food from a different establishment. Either way, the food was very welcome and the bottle of cheap wine I shared with the Aussies went down a treat. Little did I know these guys would be part of my life for the foreseeable future.