Lake Titicaca and my last post written in South America

August is finally here!  As much as I would love this incredible experience in South America to continue, I cannot wait for my flight home in 2 days. It's been over 6 months since I left the USofA and I don't think I could miss it more. Thoughts of warm weather, the beach, family, and friends have taken over my brain and made me extremely eager to come home.  Right now we're driving from Tucuman to Cordoba, Argentina where i'll catch a bus back to Buenos Aires to grab my stuff and say my final farewell before my flight on Wednesday night. Now to continue my tale:

On July 15th we arrived in Copacabana, Bolivia on the shores of Lake Titicaca. It's a small town entirely run off of tourism. We talked with an agent for a few minutes and planned out the next couple of days, which would be spent on the Isla del Sol in the middle of the lake.

We took an hour and a half boat ride out to the island where we were met by a swarm of local businesschildren who all told us glorious fabrications of how their hostel was better than the rest. We followed one particularly portly young boy up some winding staircases to a house overlooking the port and lake.

This is when we learned the facts of the Isla del Sol.  Lake Titicaca (which honestly should be considered a sea because even after driving for literally hours along its coast, you can't seem to find where it ends) is located at 3800 meters of altitude, or over 12000ft.  Imagine putting a sea at the top of the Rocky Mountains and you'll get the idea. Climbing the stairs to the hostel with our bags almost made us all pass out, and the hostel was maybe a tenth of the way up one of the massive mountains that comprise the island.

We dropped our bags off and decided to go explore the island. At the pace of mud and with stops for air every 7 steps, Dave, Max, and I checked out the Incan ruins of the Templo del Sol for a bit and then hiked back towards the village located at 4060 meters (13000+ feet) high at the top of the mountain above the port.  There we met Malcolm, who had made some friends who invited us to have a beer and watch the sunset from the peak overlooking the hilly western end of the island and lake, so we did that.  It was beautiful.  As the freezing cold and blinding darkness set in we headed back to the hostel, getting semi-lost and almost dieing on the climb down.  When we arrived a pleasant old lady made us a delicious dinner of fresh trout and rice. 

The next day we took another long boat ride to the north end of the island, again almost passing out as we found a hostel. We decided to take a nice hike, however I was actually fairly sick with a fever and congestion from the lack of showering/heat at night/oxygen in the preceeding few days, so Max and I decided to make a shorter loop around the top of the island and come into the port from the other end as Dave and Malcolm continued on. We ended up finding some big rocks towards the peak where we sat and talked and relaxed for a long while before going to find lunch by the port.

That night we learned the further truth of the island: there's only one set of powerlines connecting the island to the mainland, and the wind often disrupts them.  As if no heat or hot water (or barely even running water) were not enough, now there was no electricity on the entire island. The restaurant we went to was the only one open and only had soup for food left, so we enjoyed that by candlelight.  That night I slept wearing my alpaca-wool hat, gloves, and socks because our mud hut with thatched roof wasn't exactly warm or conducive to my healthy recovery.

The next morning we took the boat back to Copacabana and there boarded the bus to Puno, Peru.  Those tales in the next post. See you in 3 days!