PERU 2000 ALMOST TO THE END OF AN EPIC TRIP – PART III

I am now reaching the end of our Peru 2000 Epic trip and will soon return to our final days of life in Scotland. But before I go any further, I need to say something about our travel. I have said many times, in the course of this blog, that Deysi looked after all travel arrangements. This means every little detail, to the nth degree. She planned all of our activities, hour by hour. Including making sure we had the best hotels we could afford. She was our translator, babysitter, mentor, healer, and adviser. Other duties included food critique, laundry woman, pharmacist, cameraman and shepherd.

Additionally, Deysi booked our travel, whether that be by air, land, water, bus, train or pack horse. She did this in Spanish, English, French, Italian, Japanese, Dutch, German and any other that was required. Her scope included, not only me and the girls, but also anyone else that travelled with us. If she was not booking them directly, she was laying it out for them. All of this just to keep everything flowing smoothly and to keep me from “whining”. Geezus, what a monstrous and under appreciated task! I can 100% guarantee you, that we would not have done 10% of the things we did, if I had, had to make the arrangements.

Back to our story. So after a harrowing ride back down the Andes from the Colca Canyon. A ride that consisted of skimming along the rim of some serious gorges. In places where we seemingly hung over the abyss, while hurtling along at breakneck speed. It was heart stopping in some places. From hanging over the cliffs, to suddenly going down endless switchbacks, with turns so sharp, I could not see Ange in the back of the van. Our hearts were lodged in our throats, while “free falling” down these terrifying snake-back turns. In other places passing oncoming trucks, so close, you could smell the (other) drivers’ cologne. We were driven by a wild man, behind the wheel, who needed to get home for his din din. Each of us held on, with a death grip, and prayed to whatever diety we knew, to bring us safely out of the Andes. After all, our fun was not yet done, we still had places to go and things to see.

Once back in Arequipa we fell back under the protection of Deysi’s family. And as was always the case, when we travelled to Peru, what remained of Deysi’s family, were constantly at our side. They served as tour guides, chaperones, security advisers and food recommenders. In addition, on this trip, as well as all of our trips, Deysi’s lifelong friend, La Flaca Mariposa (the skinny butterfly) was constantly in attendance. On this particular trip she invited all of us, to her home, for a Peruvian dinner. Along with her partner Auggie, she prepared a memorable meal. He was in charge of the outdoor oven and was producing some heady aromas from it. I, of course, had my nose stuck into his cooking, offering advice and opinion. He just looked at me patiently and smiled.

We arrived in a couple of taxis, all of us plus Deysi’s dad (Papi), brother Arnie and sister in law (Big Sole). The Pisco flowed, the chatter was lively and a great time was had by all. What I remember most about her house was the clay (bread, pizza, roasting) oven in their back yard. The smells coming from it were delightful. Since then, my dream has been, to have this exact oven in my backyard someplace. Who knows, maybe my next house, right? On this particular occasion La Flaca Mariposa truly outdid herself. She prepared a feast of epic proportion, which included many of the food groups present in Peru. Dishes like; (the rock-oven) roast chicken and pork, stuffed hot Rocoto peppers, with potatoes covered in baked fresh cheese, Pumpkin pure’ (or Calabasa), rice, and an egg soufflé dish, perhaps Huevos Pericos. Of course preceded by the inevitable “flood” of Pisco appertifes.

Our evening with La Flaca Mariposa and Auggie, was sadly our last in Arequipa on this trip. Bright and early the following morning, we had all of our bags packed. We were now headed back up into the Andes too continue our adventures. Not satisfied to see just one sight, Deysi had us destined for Juliaca, Lake Titicaca, Cuzco, Machu Pichu, Ollantytambo, and destinations in between. One of my remaining memories of this visit to Peru was our send off from the Airport in Arequipa. Deysi’s dad (Papi), sister in law (big Sole’) and her brother (Arnie) accompanied us, as usual, to make sure that everything went smooth at the airport. I remember all of us standing at the doors to the terminal, saying our goodbyes. It was nostalgic and exciting at the same time. We were about to embark on another phase.

Once again Deysi ushers us into a plane, to further continue our adventures. I always remember takeoffs from the airport in Arequipa. Mainly because it had been located, squeezed up against the Andes mountains, and on the Atacama Desert. Combine the geography and climate dynamics and it always made for a very exciting takeoff or landing. Because of the closeness of the mountains and the prevailing winds off the desert, takeoff was only possible in one direction. Whenever landing, the planes would pass to the south of Arequipa, turn over the desert and stay “banked” at ninety degrees as they flew over the city and tight along the mountain range until flattening out for a steep approach to the runway. The opposite was true when departing. They taxied to the south, climbed steeply and banked at ninety degrees along the side of the Andes. Trust me, it never once failed to impress me.

Another day started and we arrive at 12,000 feet in the Andean city of Juliaca. At this time it was a city of about 175,000 people. For the most part they were of Quechua and Aymara descent. We did not spend much time here, as Deysi had arranged a bus to transport us to Puno on the edge of Lake Titicaca. We clamber out of the Airport, bags in hand, looking like seasoned travellers and behold, our chariot is waiting. Geezus this is about the sixth time on just this trip and not one hitch. In just short of an hour we were deposited in Puno. Into our hotel in the middle of town, check; tour of the local market, check; and local dinner, check.

Again, I just brush over these, van, bus, auto and hotel connections that had been arranged, for almost every day, in a different place. But, for those of you that know Peru, you already know that “shit can happen”, with even the simplest of arrangements. Things like the times getting mixed up, or maybe the city, and possibly even the country, could and did happen. The driver could have a stomach ache, or maybe his children or even his neighbour. Any of these things could cause a disruption of arrangements. In my early days in Peru, it would make me cry, like a baby. Anger never helped, and pleading your case logically, was even worse. However, Deysi made “tens” of these types of remote bookings and pulled each and every one of them off. Geezus.

The following morning we are up bright and early to see what all the fuss is about, around Lake Titicaca. The first thing you notice when approaching the lake is that there is a bigass Steamship parked along the shore. “Hold it”, you think, “what the hell is this ocean going vessel doing up here at 12,000 feet? I believe this was the point, at which, I suddenly realized that we may have encountered a serious lake! This steamship was one, that operated around the lake for many years. They transported goods, materials, ore, grain, people and chanchos, along the shore and to the myriad of reed islands dotting the lake. Since the late 1800’s ocean size steamships have been plying the waters of Titicaca. Over time there had been 5 of them. Starting with the Yavari in 1861 and finishing with the Ollanta in the 1930’s. The Ollanta could transport 950 tonnes of cargo and 86 passengers, both 1st and 2nd class.

The last vessel, was manufactured in the UK, completely disassembled, shipped to Peru, unloaded at Mollendo, transported up into the Andes and reassembled on the shore of Lake Titicaca. I wasn’t there, but that must have been one colossal “goat roping”. One of the earlier vessels ran on nothing, except dung. Many of you might say, “JimboRed, you could fuel it off the crap you have written, hehehe”. Very funny, now you’ve hurt my feelings. In any event, we took in the sights along the dock, read up on facts about the lake, while Deysi found our tour guide and got everything organized. Like that, we were boarded and another adventure began.

I must confess, although I knew that this lake would be spectacular, I never imagined just how much it was. The lake is something like 190km long and about 70km wide. It boarders on Bolivia to the southeast and contains a good number of islands. Once on the water, you knew it was absolutely huge. It wasn’t long before the shoreline, faded in the distance. Now, miraculously, small, inhabited islands started to appear. For many years I had heard of these floating islands. However until you see one, you have absolutely no comprehension of what a big woven mat of weeds looks like. People actually do live on these reed islands. I guess in my head I thought it was some kind of legend. “There had to be some “catch”, right”? As we drew near to the one, that we were going to stop at, you could see houses, animals, and people on a massive pile of weeds. “Let’s get off and have a look shall we?”

One funny fact is that each and every person that disembarks onto one of these islands takes their first step very gingerly. Almost as if fearing that your foot was going to sink through the reeds and into the water below. There are about 40 floating islands on the Lake. Tortora roots, from a reed that grows in the lake, comprise the base for the islands. Each island consists of a base of tortora roots and mud in 2 meter thick bricks. These “bricks” are covered with layers of tortora reeds about 1 meter thick, piled on top. Because the reeds rot quite quickly, new reeds need to be added every two weeks, to 2 months. The islands are called UROS and named after the people that built them. Legend says that they were built so that they could be moved away from trouble with other tribes. They were a non-aggressive people and preferred to move rather than fight.

At the time we visited, there were approximately 2000 people living on these islands. Most lived from tourism, like arts and crafts and traditional textile weaving. However, there still remain people living, on these islands, from the proceeds of fishing and hunting on the lake. The islands are anchored to the bottom of the lake with reed ropes and long wooden poles. They measure somewhere around 90 feet long by 90 feet wide and are each owned by one extended family unit. A couple of them contain a school, with classes to about grade 9. Others have medical stations, one has a radio station, most have solar panels and many have generators for power. These islands could be moved if required. Although moving them would be one hell of a job, I think!

We climbed onto one of the islands for a look-see, and it was truly quite amazing. It reminded me of walking on a mattress. It was very stable, but at the same time had some “give” underfoot. The first thing you notice are the inhabitants, they crowd around each tour boat as it arrives. We were offered crafts and textiles of all sorts, all apparently crafted by the local people. My first reaction was that it seemed a bit “pushy”, but as Deysi explained, the selling of their crafts, and even, posed photos, with the tourists, was very probably their only source of income. And when you think of it, it was a small price to pay for being able to walk on one of these islands; and visit these peoples in their traditional garb, going about their daily routine. For me it was fascinating, however, being half Peruvian, I am biased.

You could not help but be impressed by the ingenuity that it took to engineer and construct these islands. Each of them contained, houses, sheds, animal pens, maybe a school, perhaps a small store, all made from the very same reed materials. Once in a while, someone was lucky enough to have a tin roof on their dwelling. Or perhaps some clapboard walls to offer a degree more of protection from the elements. There was quite a large amount of poultry present on the island. It mostly, consisted of chickens, ducks, and guinea fowl. Also a pig or two rooted around in the reeds, seeking treasures dropped by the tourists or maybe discarded by the locals. I also saw a potato crop laid out in the sun to dry. It begged a question, but I did not ask how they grew them, on these reed islands.

Everything was relatively clean and tidy. There were cook stoves in front of the reed huts, and I expect they were very well monitored. Another question came to mind; as to where the waste was disposed of, however, I never asked. Possibly because I did not want to know the answer. Another very interesting thing that we learned was the reeds that were laid over the floating root mats had to be replaced every few weeks. This was because, the bottom layers rotted away very quickly, so new reeds had to be placed on top of the islands, constantly. We spent a few idyllic hours exploring the islands, buying souvenirs and learning a bit of the history of this place.

For me, our biggest adventure was climbing into one of the reed balsas. These boats are made from the reeds of the lake and woven together into a “banana peel” shape. Pointed up at each end with a wide bottom. What amazed me was the sheer size of these woven boats. We all piled into one of these crafts, that is, all 6 of us. Even with mine and C’s ample bodies, we floated like a cork. A remarkable feature of these boats was that each one, had a figurehead on its bow. These were animal head figures and, incredibly woven from the same reeds that the boat was made from. They were very stable crafts. However, if my memory does not fail me, we only got to “sit” in one, while our picture was taken. However, fading memory or not, I am sure we paid a fee to sit in a reed boat on Lake Titicaca.

Now for a bit of legend. It was said that these woven reed boats were used to transport stone columns, across the lake, to Tiahuanaco on the Bolivian shoreline. They were used to construct the large temple at Tiahuanaco, that rivals anyplace in the world for architectural spender. Some of these columns weighed more than 100 tonnes, each. I know, I know, the first thing that comes to mind is “bullshit”. However this is Peru and many such spectacular things did happen. So I hesitate to say, “impossible”, “nah, couldn’t be”, because it might just be exactly as they suggest. Of course, how big this reed boat must have been, staggers the imagination. How did they ever load something of that size on a reed boat? How in hell would you paddle it, if you did get it loaded? And just how many hundreds of people would it have taken and where did they come from? Who was the engineer? Was he a Bechtel guy?

I could easily think up a few hundred reasons why this couldn’t be possible. And only one, why it could. That being, these were ancient peoples, that might well have landed at Nazca, (you remember our previous story part1) and then made their way into the Andes to perform these amazing constructions. That is about the only way, my mind can reconcile, this type of engineering and construction, happening a few thousand years ago. Tiahuanaco would be hard to replicate, even with today’s equipment and know how.

I will now conclude this small piece of our travels. After finishing on the Lake, we spent the next day and a half, touring ruins around Puno, snapping photos, and eating the local delicacies. And then, it was time to clamber onto a local bus, and travel to Cusco, where our next adventure was looking for us. That bus ride was an adventure all by itself. However, you will have to be patient until the next episode, to find out why. I just bet you can hardly contain yourselves waiting, for the next piece to this adventure. If I could guarantee that I would remember these times, for the future, I would have no need to write them down in such detail. I promise, the next one, will be (near) the last for Peru 2000. Goodbye Puno!