Lake Titicaca and the Cardboard Boat

Having risked life and limb mining in Potosi and careering headlong (by bike) down the world's most dangerous road outside of La Paz, we decided a peaceful stay by Lake Titicaca was in order.

It started well with an $8 (for 2) night in a new hotel with spectacular views of the Lake at Copacabana-the Bolivian version, interupted only by the dulcet tones of one of our travelling companions, Felicity, who had forgotten that Barry Manilow was referring to the Brazilian version. The next day, our boat ride to and hiking on the Isla del Sol, the mythical birthplace of the Incas was spectacular.

Esther decided to do the peaceful thing and retire to bed (another great $6 place- Bolivia really is the cheap but spectacular holiday seekers destination) with its 180 degree views of the Lake whilst Gavin, Felcity and I thought that it would be fun to walk one way down the island (3 hours) and then persuade a fisherman to take us back to the other end where we were staying.

The walk was gorgeous (though not far off 4000m above sea level so the hills required a fair amount of panting). When we finally arrived at the far end and enquired with the locals about the possibilty of a boat, the answers were as usual- very clear and definitive- no, yes, maybe, lets see.

Finally a man with a tiny boat turned up, the price negotiated and we were ready. What we hadn't noticed was that the wind had really whipped up and the waves had responded. No problem in an ordinary boat but this was tiny, made of cardboard (well ok, maybe chipboard but it felt like cardboard), with a little outboard motor which was being refuelled from a clear tub between the captain's legs.

The boat thudded through the waves that at times rocked it so severly that we discussed which bit of land we would swim for and I mentioned the possibility of taking shoes off. I really was gripping on for dear life and matters were not made better when we had to stop while the captain tried to untangle his rope which had wound itself around the outboard motor.

We finally arrived and clambered up onto the jetty, and watched the little boat disappear. It had less than a third of the fuel left that had been used to get us to our destination and we could only hope that the "captain" had returned safely.