There are places that feel like fairy tales before you even arrive. Lake Titicaca and the Uros floating islands are exactly that.
Although I have read lots about Titicaca and the floating reed islands, I am not prepared for the surreal, quiet beauty of this mythical lake.
Puno: A city in the sky
I fly from Lima to Juliaca. Five minutes after landing, I’m on a bus to Puno. On board, a passenger manifest is passed around, to write our names, nationalities and passport numbers. Not sure why. Perhaps for statistical purposes.
I am the only non-local.
After an hour or so, the long-awaited sight of Lake Titicaca is just below me. Magic!
As I get out of the bus, the air is crisp and fresh. It practically invites a run towards the lake. Seems I have forgotten that Titicaca is higher than 3,800 metres above sea level. Soon I have trouble taking deep belly breaths. I need a minute. A walk around the city centre is in order.
Puno is not exactly glamorous. It’s a bit gritty, actually. Chaotic. Still, it is charming in its own way, with cheerful markets, dusty streets, music everywhere, and people in traditional dress going about their daily lives. It feels like a place of transitions, between land and lake. Old and new. Ordinary and mystical.
Festividad Virgen de la Candelaria is an annual cultural/religious festival here in Puno, declared Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO. It is celebrated in January/February, but the sign is up even now, in September. Probably permanent. And no wonder. Looks vibrant and happy.
On Lake Titicaca
But I am here for Lago Titicaca, the highest navigable body of water in the world. Top priority: find someone to take me to those enigmatic floating islands. I wonder how islands can float. Islands where people live, that is?
Within an hour of arriving in Puno, I hop on a boat, the first one I find in the harbour.
It is noon, and the sun is bright in the sky. Sitting on the boat roof, I suddenly remember I have forgotten sun cream, something I will pay for later. After all these years of travelling, I still make rookie mistakes.
We are about 10 people up here, mostly Germans and Swiss. None of them are overly loud and chatty, so the boat journey is lovely and peaceful. Above, the sky stretches endlessly. Underneath, the water looks like glass, with the distant mountains mirrored in the surface.
The water soon turns into a canal of sorts, with floating vegetation all around. We pass people collecting reed. Then a colourful sign, wishing welcome!
In Aymara, Kamisaraki = How are you; Waliki = Fine, thank you
– and another one signalling a control post. No speeding here. And also, if you’re in a private boat, buy a ticket.
Then boats appear – traditional reed boats – out on the lake.
I’m reminded of my fellow countryman Thor Heyerdahl, who set off from here in Peru, to cross about 8,000 km of the Pacific Ocean to French Polynesia, on a raft made of balsa wood. You may have heard of it, the Kon-Tiki.
More islands come into view. Little patches of land floating on the water, made entirely of reed. On top are tiny little houses, watchtowers, even boats, everything made of reed, hand-crafted. Everything here feels otherworldly.
Walking on reed
We are greeted by a man and a woman in colourful dress, who help moor our boat. Warm smiles, curious eyes.
Stepping onto the island feels… weird. The ground is soft and springy, like walking on sponge.
The chief demonstrates how they build the islands. The reed is layered and replaced every few weeks. Looks like they won’t be out of work anytime soon.
The Uros have kept this way of life going for generations. One might wonder why they continue to live like this, why they don’t move to the mainland. I suppose it is in everyone’s interest to keep the lifestyle going, to attract visitors. And the production does feel a bit touristy. He has clearly told this story many times before.
But there is also something real underneath it all. They live here, these families. This unsteady island is their home. And they have chosen to open it up to people who come from far away, like me, so I can see – and understand – this lifestyle, which is so very different from mine. So what, if money is part of the motivation…
The islanders have self-made works for sale. Woven blankets, alpaca jumpers, model houses.
Not a hard sell, though. I spot a little model of a reed boat and have to ask to buy it.
Taking it easy on a floating island
Reed boating on Lake Titicaca
Time to get out in a reed boat, a smooth, slow glide across the water. Motorised, but still…
We head for Hanan Pacha, meaning Celestial World in Quechua, self-proclaimed capital of the Uros.
There are cafes and even accommodations. Two of the Germans, a young couple, are so enthralled, they decide, spur-of-the-moment, to spend the night here.
With this little resident –
– and these surroundings…
Can’t say I blame them.
Reflections and Realisations
Travel always teaches me something, even if I don’t necessarily realise it in the moment. Here amongst the Uros, I get a lesson in human adaptability. There are so many different ways we can shape our world, to survive, and thrive.
Also, I am thinking about preserving a culture vs. tourism. A double-edged sword. How does a community keep their traditions alive without turning it into a performance? There’s a fine line, isn’t there? Very apparent here.
Puno and Uros Islands practicals
- Acclimatise first
-
- Do as I say, not as I do: do not run the moment you get off the bus. Puno is high up. I mean really high. 3,800 metres is no laughing matter, so best to ease in. And keep drinking water.
- Bring layers – and use sun cream
- The sun is strong during the day, but it gets proper chilly after sunset. And use the sun cream, don’t just keep it in your room. I speak from experience.
- Keep an open mind
- Yes, it is touristy in a sense. But there is also meaning and beauty here; keep your eyes and your mind open.
- Support local artisans
- My little reed boat is right here, a tiny reminder of this strange, other-worldly place.
My little model also reminds me of the Ra. After the Kon-Tiki expedition, Thor H. set off from Morocco to Barbados in the Ra, a boat made of reed. Papyrus reed, not Totora reed like the one here on Lake Titicaca, but its Egyptian cousin.
My Ra! The tiny thrills of life.
Will I go back?
I will, I will!
I want to see more of this enchanting lake, especially the islands further out – Taquile and Amantaní. I would like to spend a night on one of the little reed islands, staying with a local family.
And also… the feeling of walking on the springy reed ground. Unsteady at first, but once you get the hang of it, it’s like, well, floating. Exhilarating.
Meanwhile, I’m off to the other side of Lake Titicaca tomorrow, which happens to be in another country. On the Bolivian side, I will explore the island where the sun god was born, and where the sun first appeared, according to Inca mythology. And I will do a proper uphill hike. Reckon I’m all good with altitude by then.
Preview of next morning
Waking up to this magically gorgeous view from my hotel room window in Puno at 06.00am. Now imagine a slight frost in the air, crisp and clear, and early morning quiet.
Don’t you just want to run down to the lake? I do. It’s Day 2, all acclimatised. Yippee!