Island Hopping on Lake Titicaca

If someone had told me Charlie and I would be spending the last weekend of 2019 with an indigenous family on a remote island in Lake Titicaca, there’s no way I would have believed it. But that’s exactly what we did. Two days after Christmas, we took a 6-hour bus ride from Arequipa to the small city of Puno in south-eastern Peru, situated at 12,560′ above sea level on the shores of the highest navigable lake in the world. The next morning – on Charlie’s birthday – we boarded a boat with 13 other travelers and set sail to explore the exotic islands of Uros, Amantani and Taquile.

Before visiting, I only knew of Lake Titicaca as some random far off place with a funny sounding name – like Tasmania or Timbuktu. I had no idea it was the largest lake in South America – spanning the border between Peru and Bolivia – or that a native tribe pre-dating the Incas still live there today on floating, man-made islands. These islands, known as The Uros Floating Islands, were formed long before the Spanish arrived, when expansion of the Inca empire forced the Uros people from their lands. To avoid being conquered by the Incas, the Uros constructed islands out of the plentiful reeds around the lake, called totora, that still make up their boats, houses, furniture and entire way of life today.

We arrived to Uros after a 30 minute boat ride from Puno, and stepped out on to the spongy, waterbed-like surface. We were greeted by a local family and listened to a talk on their lifestyle and culture. Afterwards we explored their reed homes and admired displays of their handmade bracelets, trinkets and crafts. Within minutes it all felt like a tourist trap with no escape, made even more obvious by the non-optional extra boat ride for a fee. Once on the boat, we were cornered by a six year old with braided pigtails singing “Row Your Boat” as she passed a hat for money – only one person in our group was able to refuse. Despite its fascinating origins, the experience felt highly manufactured, which I suppose is unavoidable once a place is based almost solely on tourism. We left with conflicted feelings and settled in for the three hour boat ride ahead.

The whole group breathed a sigh of relief as we stepped off the boat on to the idyllic island of Amantani, our second destination. There were no other tour boats in sight, just sky blue water and distant mounds of islands as far as the eye could see. The only sounds came from small fishing boats creaking and bumping against the rocks, and the only other people were the local women who had come down to collect us. We were divided into small groups and led by our hosts up the steep trail to their homes where we’d be eating and sleeping that night. Charlie and I were paired with a young, friendly couple from Germany who spoke no Spanish. Our host was young as well, in her late 20s I guessed, though it was hard to tell in her traditional clothing. Her husband turned out to be the leader of the community and stayed busy during our visit, though we were eventually able to get a few giggles from their well-behaved six year old son who watched us curiously from a distance.

It felt odd being the more experienced Spanish speakers for our group, but we did our best to ask questions and express our gratitude for sharing their home. After we settled in, we went on a hike straight up to the mountain’s summit to visit the Incan ruins of Pachamama, the Quechua word for Mother Earth. After circling the ruins and making three wishes as we were instructed, we climbed another trail up a steep stone pathway to the island’s second peak called Pachatata, or Father Earth. The views from the top were spectacular – deep blue skies and waters that seemed to stretch on for eternity. We hiked down as the sun was setting and rejoined our host for dinner. Afterwards we were dressed in traditional garb and sent off to a fiesta where I asked the band to sing “Happy Birthday” for Charlie. We danced in circles until our feet were sore and Charlie whispered that all he wanted for his birthday was a good nights sleep. I was happy to oblige.

The next morning we ate breakfast – homemade pancakes with butter and jam – said our goodbyes and loaded up for the final stop at the island of Taquile. The island was equally as beautiful with its stone archways, terraced fields and herds of sheep covering the mountainsides. After another steep hike to the main plaza, we sat to rest and take in the view. Charlie and I set off in search of another spot on the island with an even better view according to our guide, which turned out to be right. Afterwards our group set off on a stone trail leading around the island to our lunch spot where we ate trucha and rice, while our guide explained interesting facts about the local textiles.

Apparently on Taquile, the men are solely responsible for the important task of knitting and clothes-making. Boys learn the craft at the age of 6 or 7 and knit their entire lives, while women tend the sheep, collect and dye the wool to spin into colorful yarns. Textiles from Taquile are regarded as some of the highest quality in Peru and remain an important source of income for the island. Taquileños rely on the barter system, and produce everything needed themselves to support their peaceful way of life.

After lunch we filed in to our little boat and headed three hours back to the mainland in Puno. Being back in a gritty city felt jarring after such a cleansing experience; free of pollution, technology and street noise. Charlie and I separated from the tour group as quickly as possible, opting to walk back to town rather than climb into a crowded bus. After such intensive experiences, we’ve found it important to have “free time” as Charlie coined it. It’s time when we get to retreat to our respective, introverted holes and check email, surf instagram or stare blankly for 30 minutes or so without outside interference. It’s been a healthy practice for us – something we did naturally in normal life but now have to budget time for in our travel life. It usually works like a charm, recharging us for the next adventure that awaits.