Costa del Isla del Sol...

After six weeks in Peru it was time to leave.  Not because the many attractions had been exhausted but rather one of the girls I was travelling with had unwittingly become an illegal immigrant and the other two of us had visas which would expire in a matter of days.  The journey from Puno to Copacabana took about nine hours; marred by the fact the bed seats we expected on the coach more like those on the National Express to Hull.  Add to this a sadistic driver who was trying to roast me alive with the heating system and the journey was a touch uncomfortable.

On arrival in Copacabana our fortune changed.  This sleepy little town on the Bolivian shores of Lake Titicaca shares its name with the famous Rio beach but couldn't be more distant in character.  A quick mental calculation of the value of Pounds Sterling in Bolivianos revealed this would be much cheaper than Peru.  Also in the town's favour was the lack of traffic, beautiful scenery and chilled-out people.  Only the food left a little to be desired as we discovered when we ordered nachos and the waitress ran out to buy a bag of Doritos.

The next morning we caught the early boat to the Isla del Sol.  This most appropriately named island is the place where Viracocha is thought to have created mankind for the second time after a great flood.  As a result it is deeply sacred for the Aymará indians who inhabit it.  We headed stright to the north to the small town of Challapampa.  Really little more than a small village, this place had the feel of the wild west with it's sandy streets and roaming animals.

Not ones to waste any time, we booked into the welcoming Hostal Cultural and began to set up for a Wachuma session.  Having all completed some ceremonies in Cusco, we felt ready to conduct our own.  A little altar was constructed comprising the various artefacts we had collected on our journeys.  We then mixed the San Pedro powder with water and necked the vile concoction.  Before long we were under the influence and decided to stagger down to the harbour for apples.  Our mood was one of playfulness and we spent a good hour laughing our heads off at concepts and situations too trivial to mention here.  A little irreverence and arrogance had prevaded our ceremony, perhaps?

Realising we were neglecting the need for quiet reflection, Lieve decided to climb a nearby hill whilst Chantal and I headed for the beach.  Lieve's quest into the hills was courageous; she felt like a puma as she climbed the steep, bare rocks.  Her adventurous spirit took her far and wide and before long she was out of sight.  After a few hours and a very strange encounter with a shepherd, she returned, pleased to be back before dark.  Meanwhile, I summoned up some energy to swim in the sacred Lake Titicaca with Chantal.  The water was a baffling mix of warm and cold currents in the shallow, clean water.  As we bathed, the extraordinary beauty of this stunning place sank deep into our psyches.  Literally lost for words, I gazed at the distant snow covered mountains and glistening water before crawling out to deal with the resulting Raynaud's phenomenon.  As we warmed ourselves in the afternoon sun we watched with amusement as pigs and cows explored the sames waters we had been standing in minutes before.  That evening we recovered our usual state of consciousness in a cosy restaurant over a bottle of wine.  As a thunderstorm rolled in to replace the day's heat we vowed to hold another ceremony with a little more focus.  Whilst the day had been a lot of fun, the moments we allowed ourselves to work quietly with wachuma were lacking.  Whilst they can be fun, the plant medicines are here to help us and are not just for entertainment purposes.