Bolivia - Isla del Sol, Lake Titicaca - Worth the Climb

Getting to and from Isla del Sol from Copacobana was eventful to say the least. We got up early to have a leisurely breakfast before getting on the ferry at about 7am. Only to discover that nothing opens until 8am. Then hanging around on the sidewalk outside our potential breakfast cafe, I was horrified to watch a taxi run over one of the stray dogs on the street about 2m in front of me. The dog miraculously wasn´t killed, but somewhat traumatizing start to the day.



A nearby cafe finally opens and we leap at the chance for breakfast. To be served jam, butter and coffee laced with ants. Day not improving.




And when we arrive at the island 2 hours later, we are greeted by a very disheartening Inca staircase up a respectably steep cliff. I thank myself every day for underpacking my big bag. Did I mention this is still at 4000+m altitude?





30 minutes of hard lung work later, we arrive at Hosteria Las Islas, whose balcony had a phenomenal view of the lake and the Bolivian mountains in the distance:



Alright, I thought, I wouldn´t want to climb those stairs again, but it was worth it. While we probably could have done just a day trip since the island is fairly small, the overnight expedition proved worthwhile in terms of photos alone. The island does lack a bit story wise.

That night, I was having a very nice moment watching the moon rise over the lake.



Until our next door neighbours in the hostel managed to disrupt the serenity of the night with bad techno, too many playings of Katy Perry´s Hot and Cold, a breaking of a big bottle of rum, and alcohol poisoning-related ailments throughout the night.

And then came the rain. We had seen the lightning across the lake rolling in. The storm lasted all night and the rain and hail just kept going in the morning. For those of us taking the 11am ferry back to mainland, this was not good. For those same people who had to descend the evil Inca staircase of the day before that converts into a waterfall in rainy weather while sopping wet, this was worse. For one particular individual of this group who has atrocious depth perception, general clumsiness and poor footing, this was a nightmare.

That being said, I eventually did make it down the evil river staircase, ankles unsprained. Meanwhile Mick was practically racing down the stairs in skate shoes. He must be part mountain goat, I swear.

Best part - on the return ferry on the choppy waves, we sat across from the still very hungover neighbours from the hostel, who literally were turning green as the boat puttered across the channel. If I hadn´t been so worried that they might throw up on my shoes, I´d have laughed.