Early in the morning we bade farewell to the comforts of LP Columbus and hopped on the (touristic) bus to Copacabana. It took us a while to get through the clogged suburbs of La Paz, but eventually we emerged and soon we could see to our left the first, smaller part of Lake Titicaca, called Lake Huynaymarka. After a couple of hours we arrived at San Pablo de Tiquina, and were rather surprised to be told to take our belongings and get off the bus. Turned out we would be reunited on the other side of the narrow crossing between the two lakes. We were shepherded over to a small motorboat, while our bus boarded a small wooden barque.
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| Our bus crosses between San Pablo and San Pedro |
All having safely arrived in San Pedro de Tiquina on the western bank, we set off again for Copacabana. Now the road became a little more interesting, as we climbed up the side of the mountains lining the lake and then back down to Copacabana. We arrived just after noon, and strolled down to the lake shore to find our hostel.
Though slightly faded, the room was clean and had a great view over the lake, while the very friendly old man who welcomed us gave us some tips on where to find the boat over to the Isla del Sol the following morning.
After a fairly poor lunch at an LP-recommended place opposite our hostel, we went for a wander around town. We started with the large cathedral, attractive from the outside with white-washed walls and Moor-inspired mosaics on the roof, but fairly bland on the inside. In the same complex, around the back of the cathedral, was a strange and slightly disturbing "Capella des Velas". A narrow, dark passageway led towards an image of the Virgin, past a slightly mad old woman sitting on the floor by the entrance. In the middle were stone tables with lit candles welded to their surface, and the walls were covered with incomprehensible messages and symbols in melted wax.
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| Copacabana cathedral |
We stepped back into the light and went for a quick stroll along the lake shore. The pebble beach was mainly populated with kids sporting a red and blue tracksuit top with "Francesa" written on the back. At first I thought this was some kind of French replica top, but it became clear pretty quickly this was just the name of the school. After stopping at a cafe to fortify with a cake and some "mate de coca", we took off up the hill overlooking Copacabana, called Cerro Calvario. We were both panting within about five minutes of walking up the fairly steep incline, at which point it occurred to us we might need a bit of fitness work before trekking the Inca Trail, but we made it to the top without collapsing. At the summit we found a collection of crosses and, just over the crest, a rookery of tourists perched on the cliff waiting for sunset. Lacking the patience to wait a full 90 minutes (and not stocked with food, blankets, and torches like some of the tourist-sentinels), we lingered long enough to take the requisite scenic pics then headed off down the path while there was still enough light to prevent us from breaking ankles or necks. We made it back down to the shore just in time to grab a cold beer and watch the last of the sun slip below the horizon.
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| Clem on Copacabana beach, with Cerro Calvario in the background |
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| Sunset from the top of Cerro Calvario |
For dinner we both had the local speciality, trucha (trout). It was stuffed with spinach and a hint of ginger that Clem thought a little over the top but my ignorant English palette rather enjoyed. Since by this point Clem was more or less falling asleep at table, we retreated to bed, ready for an early boat to the Isla del Sol.
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