Lake Titicaca Pt 1: Arrival and The Island of Amantani

A dredger and a steam boat hover in the mist of a rainy morning at the docks of Puno, Peru on the shores of Lake Titicaca.

       I watched the rain slip down the window as I sipped on my breakfast. It was the local special here in the bus station at Puno. Some kind of thick soup with an earthy smell and mystery meat floating in it. I was losing my apetite, and my mood was spoiling almost as fast, at the thought of my time in Lake Titicaca being spent in the cold rain that was falling unenthusiastically outside. My friend Tracie sat back down at the table, her cheerful mood acting as an antidote to the bad food and worse weather. I started to thaw. I guessed I had better enjoy my time either way since I had already paid for it.
            As we made our way down to the frigid docks, gusts of wind sweeping the rain horizontal for brief but uncomfortable moments. We were shuttled into a boat that seemed a little less rundown than the other possibilities moored nearby, small miracles I guess.  After a brief tune by a local musician, and a word from our captain, we started our journey. The boat skimmed through a sea of reeds, seemingly as vast as the lake itself, starting to glow in the weak light of the sun that shyly peeked through gaps in the mantle of clouds.
         The clouds broke up and we plied into open waters towards our first destination. Lake Titicaca is on the worlds highest navigable lake and unique for the biodiversity it hosts when most 3000+ meter high lakes are just empty pools of water. Beyond these factors, what really put Lake Titicaca on the historical map is the unique feature of having inhabited floating islands. You heard me. Islands. That float. On which people live. (This should remind you all of the Floating Spider Monkey Island of Doctor Doolittle fame, if not, you should really read more!). Our boat was headed out to these legendary islands.
       The islands are constructed of blocks or reeds that pop up under certain atmospheric conditions, and are then sawed away, towed to a location and lashed to other blocks. From there, the islands are anchored (to prevent them floating across the Bolivian border in the middle of the lake) and stacked with layer after layer of dried reeds. These reeds are replaced every two weeks or so to prevent the dampness that soaks up from causing health problems. The islands were originally conceived as a way to avoid the Incans who took power in the region. It worked, and until very recently their population has remained almost completely isolated from the outside world (this did however cause problems like lack of education and inbreeding...).
       The islands themselves were small, and our visit consisted of a short presentation before the sales pitches started. They tried to sell us trinkets and garishly embroidered traditional cloth banners, before they offered to let us into their huts. They were dirty, dark, and full of flies. We sat there on the thin mattresses cramped into the tiny space, as the woman of the house proceeded to show more of the cloth banners. After about an hour, we climbed back aboard our vessel and set off for our next destination, the island of Amantani.
        We arrived mid afternoon and were shown to our rooms with a local family, before joining our group to climb to the top of the island in time to enjoy the sunset from the Pachapata Temple. This pre-Incan site dedicated to the father earth is still used for New Years rituals that take place every January 14. As the sun set, the wind swept fiercely across the top of the hill, so we bundled us as best we could and made our way back down to a simple dinner.
       After we all ate, the rest of the people in the house with me decided they were too tired to go to the dance planned for us. I decided to throw on a poncho and a "Chulo" hat, and head out into the frigid night under the most incredible stars I have ever seen. I made my way down to the community center where I joined in the festivities for a bit, before I decided to head back to bed. Another long day on the lake awaited me in the morning.

The lake has vast sweeps of golden reeds, from which lake dwellers make their floating islands.

A presentation in the center of the floating island, with the president, who is designated as such by the vestment appropriated to the office, a pair of shoes. All other islanders walk barefoot on the soft warm reeds.

Dozens of colorful trinkets for sale on the legendary floating islands of Lake Titicaca. These islanders make handicrafts to sell to passing tourists since they have little other means of economic improvement.

The reed floors of the floating islands, which need to be replaced about every two weeks to stave off the dampness, are smooth and warm in the sun.

A mother watchers her child play

Reed longboats are the traditional form of transportation here, although they are being replaced by row and motorboats

The tiny floating island, its loneliness highlighted by the vastness of the lake in which it sits, and the endless drama of the skies above. (Photo courtesy of my good friend and companion on this journey, Tracie, of LionheartInk.com)

The host of the house where we were stayed, surrounded by other local women as they demonstrate local traditional dress.

A lone tree on the island of Amantaki, where agriculture and traditional customs still rule daily life.

The gate to the temple of the Pacahapata temple.

Precarious stone archways dot this island (which happens to be in a hot bed of seismic activity... safety first and all!)

Snowcapped mountains ringing the lake, as seen from our tiny island outpost near the temple of the Father Earth.

A local woman braces herself against the harsh, cold winds that rip across the top of the rocky island as she waits for passing tourists to buy some handmade goods. These are peddled to make up for the times when agriculture isn't viable due to long dry spells on the island.

The gate to the temple of the Father Earth, still used for the new years ritual performed here every January 17th.