Our journey took us across the lake at the narrow straits that separate the ‘big’ and ‘little’ parts of Titicaca. We climbed away from the ferry dock, reaching the snow level at about 13,500 feet before descending again to stop at Copacabana for lunch and then going on through the border crossing back into Peru and onto Puno.A couple walk back from the road to their farm. Most of the buildings are made up from adobe (mud and straw) bricks.The view across Lake Titicaca from our hotel in Puno.The next day we took a boat out to the reed islands. In the backgound our hotel.Looking back at our hotel for the lake.One of the islands of the Uros people. They tend to stick in family groups, each to a floating island made from reeds. On an island, it was like walking on a giant waterbed and I didn’t want to stand too close to anyone else…in case our combined wieght took us through (I think my fears were unfounded). We then went on to the SS Yavari.Built in kit form, in Birmingham, England – no piece was heavier than 3.5cwt. Pack Mules carried the parts up from the coast and the ships (there were two) were assembled by the lake.Sillustrani. A place where the pre-inca people used to entomb their dead mumified, in towers. The Inca adopted the tradition and built more refined towers (typical tightly joined stonework). Sillustrani means ‘you can’t fit your fingers in the gaps’.Sillustrani. Note the stone ramp at the back of the tower. This one was still being built when it was left. The Incas never used wheels, so all the stones were dragged or pushed sometimes over log rollers.A Chola with a young child and a young Vicuña.Early morning at Puno station. Aboard the train for Cusco…waiting for a derailment to be cleared before we can leave.Our seats were just ahead of the observation car at the back of the train.The first part of the train journey was across pan flat land, with low hills in the distance.We rocked along at about 30-35 mph.Sometimes we even negotiated a bend.Schoolchildren running after the train as we passed through one of the small communities that dot the high plain. Almost all we saw were in uniform and very smart.As we travelled further, the mountains on either side of the plains started to close in on us.I am sure this truck followed the train. Heading for our stopping point it was full of hawkers loaded with souvenirs and knitwear.Nearing the highest point of the journey and the divide between the dry plains and the more lush vegetation on the other side.The hawkers and cholas from the truck descend on the train at the stop.Chola with jumpers. One is in my wardrobe.Karon bought one too.Then we were moving again, but this time is was downwards. We had crossed the watershed.In some towns the tracks ran beside the road and the tri-shaw riders raced us as we shouted and waved encouragement while their fares looked decidedly worried!This side of the divide the land was more fertile and crops took the place of the cattle and lamas of the Altiplano.As the sun started to set we stood at the back of the OC a watched the tracks and scenery unfurl. The journey still had a couple of hours to go but the darkness meant the rest was not recorded.
