Badlanders MCC Website

Escape from Bolivia

 

After my very uncomfortable night in Tiquini, I struggled to get my bike back together again and down a steep set of stairs ( with a rise on one of two feet- no building regs here). I handed the key to a grumpy woman in the shop which fronts as the booking office for the alojiamente. I then asked for a couple of apples. At that point she proceeded to pick her nose! No discrete little tweaks here; this was a proper howk. As she bent down to pick up the apples, I shouted “no nefecito” and picked up the bike to head on up the hill from the town centre. Copacabana here I come. with alojamiente, and headed off. There was a little kiosk further along, which sold yoghurt drinks and, my favourite, bananas! ( being facetious of course), but I thought I would try and see if I could stomach a couple to build some strength.

 

As I passed the cemetery, I decided to stop, take pictures of the bay and have my bag of yoghurt and bananas. I downed the yoghurt without stopping for breath, but couldn’t stomach anymore than two bites of the banana. However, the view of the boats basking under the bright sunlight in the bay at Tiquini was quite beautiful. I spoke to this old guy wandering down from the cemetery. He said, I have one little steep bit and then its flat all the way to Copacabana, then a steep drop into the town!

Well once again, I wasn’t disappointed in the Bolivian view of “flat”. I reached 39k to Copacabana after a gruelling climb from Tiquina 3 and ½ hours later. Should have taken two hours....its probably the lack of food, but I crawled all the way there

 

Whilst there were a lot of dogs by the side of the road, one can only presume that at this altitude, they aren’t keen to give chase, which is a good job, because I wasn’t reaching high enough speeds to escape! The other thing that was a little disconcerting as I hadn’t experienced on entering Bolivia were the requests for “la plata” (cash) by kids in remote houses that peppered the route to Copacabana.

 

When I crossed from Lake ????? through a pass, I saw my first proper viewing of Lake Titicaca and it was a wonderful sight. I was sitting about 500m above lake Titicaca at this point, which itself sits at 3800 MASL. I continued to bounce between the two lakes as I cut through pass after pass. As I approached one boisterous looking group of kids one decided it would be funny to leap on to the trailer as I ascended one of the hills. You know how vulnerable the trailer is, so he was told in no uncertain terms to get off. Though they all thought it was funny! Wish I could have been in the mood to see the funny side

 

As usual, there were lots of campesinos going about their daily business with their sheep and llamas, often negotiating difficult road crossings with buses less than keen to slow down for the sheep to cross. The bus drivers just sat with their hands on their horns as the campesino made frantic attempts to get the strays to rejoin the groups.

 

When I finally reached my descent it was short and steep and refreshing to be passing some of the lorries (which must manage a total speed of 20 kph whether they are going up or down). I got into Copacabana at about 2.30, though as I said expected to be there much earlier. As I drew in, I started to check a few hostels, but decided I’d make my way closer to the bay, or port. I finally checked into the Colonial, why I don’t know, because it was run by a group of young hoodlums. I also ended up on the top floor, which is a pain when you have my luggage and equipment and there are no lifts! I know what am I moaning abou?...cycling some of the highest climbs in the world and I’m griping about four flights of stairs!!!

 

As I drew into the hostel, I met what looked like a couple, but were actually brother and sister, Mike and Angela. They were from Utah, though Angela was just about to go home, having had enough of her brother, (though she said she was only joking) and Mike was going to study primitive farming methods on a farm in Bolivia! I wondered what the produce was in the lowlands of Bolivia, having just left the Coca museum a few days earlier and knowing full well what tends to take up most of the agricultural land in lowland Bolivia!!

 

Later that day I decided to sit in this cafe, called Coffee Bar Copacabana, a little further down from the Hostel on the Calle 6 de Agosto. Blasting out from a huge speaker system was BBC world news, debating a motion on whether the Catholic church was a force for good in the world. Soon afterwards, indeed just as my Spaghetti Bolognese arrived, in walks a group of Nuns and priest, presumably exhausted after a morning service. By this time the criticism of the catholic church was becoming a little close to the bone and there were priests on the radio trying to defend, but almost apologising for  their failure to address the issue contraception and for being responsible for the spread of aids in Africa. It was clear that some of the Nuns and Priests understood English very well and the debate was extending to their tables! Ironically the vote taken when people entered the debate, was taken at the end, and the votes for the catholic church, doing good dropped from 650 to, I believe, it was 220 or something very close to it. It was probably one of the more bizarre moments I have experienced and I left soon after finishing my Spaghetti Bolognese, just in-case I got drawn into what seemed like a continued debate by the Priests and Nuns!

 

However, the highlight of my day was seeing a bike race start from the main plaza in Copacabana heading towards la Paz. I wouldn’t have wanted to get caught up with this lot. Some of the guys had superb bikes, some didn’t. The first part was a 39 km time trial, presumably to Tiquina then across the lake to start the race to La Paz! The race was made up of cyclists covering a fair spread of Chile and Argentina. The square was absolutely buzzing with people and cyclists, though the security and organisation was a bit chaotic. As each cyclist left the starting block, there were a series of absolutely desperate attempts by police and “stewards” to get rid of dogs that were crossing in front of the cyclists! If it wasn’t so serious and dangerous, it would have been hilarious. However, the cyclists looked to be completely familiar with this risk and were keeping a close eye on dogs and people at the side of the road, presumably desperate to exit the town and get onto “safer” roads

 

The next day I had intended to head off into Peru, but was encouraged to take a boat out to Isla del Sol which as Inca legend would have is the birthplace of the sun. I wasn’t really feeling like taking a trek around the Island, but thought the boat-trip out and the view of the lake, and have a bite of lunch would be enough and I also hoped that I might get an opportunity to swim in Lake Titicaca. On the boat I met a group of guys on a long term sabbatical from their companies whilst travelling around the world. Adam, Dan and John. They’d been joined by Katie who had been at Uni with them and who was only there for three weeks but had made the guys move up to slightly better accommodation during the trip. Though I thought I’d had a few hairy experiences, they had done not too badly themselves! Dan especially, had been robbed at knifepoint in Bogota, losing amongst other things, his soft-shell jacket, which he was really peeed off about....esp. as it was a little cool out on the lake. Unfortunately I managed to lose my ticket and got charged again to get back to the mainland.

 

The next day I was on my way, though still feeling less than great. Made the border within half an hour. Compared with other border crossings this was a breeze. The exit was very simple having just arrived as a large group of Aussies were departing the immigration control point. I was though in five minutes and into Peru. When I got to the customs and immigration control point it was also deserted. There was no luggage check, no queues, no hassle.  I was through into Yungayo within 10 minutes.

 

A bit shaken I picked up the bike to notice the handle had buckled. I straightened it and somewhat and swore at the dog, It probably understood I meant business!

 

Aside from those incidents, I was ready to compliment the Peruvian authorities on the excellent condition on their roads, until I reached Juli. From there through to Puno, and especially Llave I cycled over the most difficult tarmac road surfaces to since my first fateful journey from Argentina into Chile and then secondly into Osorno

 

After a cold night by the lake, I made for Puno and as soon as I arrived at night, booked into the Hotel el Lago. I decided to take a trip out early the next day to the floating islands and Isla Taquile on one of the organised boat trips. Having missed the opportunity of a swim from Ilsa de Sol  because I was too busy arguing with the captain of the boat out to Isla del sol about having to pay again, and not having the courage to dive in after my nights camping, I remained hopeful that this was my opportunity. The Floating islands, whilst interesting to see, was one of those “designed for tourist” attractions. It wasn’t until I returned to Puno and had a meal in a local delightful restaurant called Mojsa, I found out that nobody actually lives on the floating island, even though they told a very good story about their life and customs on the floating reed islands. Turns out according to my learned friend, that they only stay on the island if a tourist decides to stay over. In fact, they all have their houses on the mainland. The worst part for me was listening to the “islanders” being forced to sing twinkle twinkle little star alongside some of their more traditional songs! I suppose, retaining the islands is in some way a manner of retaining what was a way of life centuries ago for the disappearing (if not disappeared) Uros. And, I was only told that they didn’t live there by one American Peruvian. So it’s possible that they do!

 

Of more interest was the way of life for the people of Isla Taquile. Here they have retained customs for thousands of years. And there were a load of obvious examples as to why such a culture might well be kept if not intact, at least close to previous generations. The island had no electricity, though there were some roofs with solar panels, presumably enabling self generation of electricity. Quinoa, potato and fish is the staple diet, which seems a bit boring, but there we are! They also manage to aquire coca leaves from lower climes! One of the most intriguing customs surrounds the identification and availability of single men for the purpose of courting.  Single men are required to wear a long santa clause like white hat, whilst married men wear an intricately woven coloured hat. Who knows what fun and games are had on a night back from the local hostelries with hats worn, not worn or swapped? However I suspect that the island is small enough for everyone to know everyone.

 

And to show that the island hasn’t been paralysed by the fear of child kidknapping and paedophilia, one youngster who was with her grandmother, stopped as I was taking pictures of the island and ran in front of me to pose for a photo. Her grandmother never even raised her head, or attempted to admonish the child. She then headed off from her grandmother skipping, insisting that I skip all the way back to her house with her. Her mother was standing at the door waiting for her and I rather nervously said “buenos tardes”, ready to say, “sorry, but she insisted- I promise I’m not kidnapping her”!! She smiled said gracias, mucho gusto and both waved me off.

 

I was by this time at the other side of the island, where we were to catch the boat, way ahead of everyone else. This was to be my opportunity to finally have a swim in the highest navigable lake in the world, which I did and some of the pics are there to prove it. Unfortunately I also manage to get a foreign object in my ear, which made for a very uncomfortable 3 hour trip back to the mainland. I tried in vain to remove it and ended up going to an ear specialist the next morning before I set off to Juliaca. He extracted what looked like a bit of wood to me, but which he suggested might be part of a beetle! Anyway, he said my ear was now infected and gave me drops. The good news is I could now hear traffic!

 

Arrived in Juliaca late afternoon and checked in to the Hotel Sakura. I visited one of the thousand Pollorias nearby where I “enjoyed” a plate of chicken and chips, before returning to the hotel and crashing by about 8pm.

 

Juliaca was town bereft of any charm, in fact it was awful. I was glad to be on my way the next day though passed some equally awful barrios. Eventually I entered the valleys where I was to enjoy some some great scenery on route to Cusco. Still haven’t been able to get a spare battery for my camera, which now becoming a pain and no one has a bike computer that will fit my handlebar!