23rd September: Isla del Sol, Copacabana, and Puno

We woke to find that the storm had passed.  To save the donkeys some labour we deprived ourselves of a shower, packed up quickly, and went down for breakfast-with-a-view.

We walked down to the harbour, and while waiting for the 10.30am boat we were hailed by Adam and Donna (our Salar de Uyuni friends), who had spied us from their boat, briefly moored at Yumani on the way north.  Apparently we're easy to spot.  We then made a new friend, Gloria, the three-year-old daughter of a lady selling tickets to the village.  She took a great interest in my journal, observed that I was "grande", and looked bemused as I tried to point out Isla de la Luna on the map and the horizon.  She then produced from her mother's bag two small Barbie balloons on sticks, shook them enthusiastically to sound the rattle inside, and bade us try for ourselves.  She then pointed at Barbie as "gringo", and when I noted that Clem was also a blonde gringo, Gloria went over for a closer comparison.  Sadly you can see only one blonde in the photo:

In return for the amusement, Clem gave Gloria the bracelet she had bought in Paraguay.  As she did so, a host of tourists swept past us to board the boat.  It didn't seem possible that we could all get on, but we did; until they realised that the boat was far too heavy, so asked for volunteers to disembark and catch another boat in 10 minutes.  With limited cushion to catch our bus, we clung to our perch atop the boat.  After the slightly unnerving manoeuvre of switching motor for a larger unit, we finally set off.  Thankfully the lake was calm (as even moderately-sized waves could have caused issues) and we made it without taking a bath.

Returning safely to Copacabana (that's Cerro Calvario on the left)

After picking up our bags from the hostel, and grabbing a positively disgusting but thankfully quick lunch, we caught the bus to Puno, bidding farewell to Bolivia with its stunning natural beauty, friendly people, and low, low prices.

The three-hour bus journey was fairly uneventful, except for some interesting detours where the road disappeared in a cloud of dust from roadworks.  Shortly before we reached Puno we bought from a guy on the bus our tickets for the InkaExpress bus from Puno to Cusco.  This was the start of a saga that took up the rest of the afternoon.  We paid $45 each; we found out at our hostel that we could get them for $30 each.  After a trip to the tourist office, a call to the bus company, and a trip back to the bus station, we eventually managed to recover the difference.  We then spent the $30 we had clawed back on a delicious parillada with an extraordinary amount of meat.  Then to bed, and another struggle with the cold of a night at high-altitude.