Another early morning and our company, slightly diminished in numbers, boarded the Andean Explorer train for Puno on Lake Titicaca. The day began promisingly enough: the train is attractive, well appointed and evoked a wood-panelled bygone era. But the service was spotty and the constant canned Andean music ( which I normally love ) became tiresome after 10 hours.
The journey revealed changing land. For the first few hours, we followed the smaller and smaller Urubamba River, providing much needed water to the wonderfully productive farms, just in the initial stages of planting. Towns and villages looked prosperous enough and the highways were well maintained as they snaked alongside the tracks. The mountains continued to provide a solid, silent escourt as we wound our way through the valley.
Then, about 4 hours in, we started to climb. The air became cooler, the land less verdant. Crops gave way to herds of llama and sheep. Homes became simpler and Pablo told us they were probably squatters come down from the Altiplano to try to make a go at a better life. Even the mountains changed, and became more rounded, less jaggedly majestic. They resembled huge mythical beasts, resting on the plain with paws and head on the ground. This is the land of the Aymara, one of the ancestors of the Inca. We crested at over 14,000 feet, an altitude record for our trip. We stopped at the height of the journey to the ubiquitous souvenir stands and a rather forelorn little church guarding the spiritual needs of the mountain people.
The spiritual needs of the thirsty traveller were also guarded back on the train. The bar car provided a much needed diversion with a demonstration of how to make the perfect pisco sour. That, plus some live Andean music ( much better than canned! ) and an attractive young dancer made the afternoon move along rather nicely !!
Finally the land flattened and the mountains receeded, although they never totally disappeared. This is the Altiplano, a dry, flat plain of thatch grass and little water. The farms and towns are less prosperous: crude stone fences replaced adobe to keep the llama together.
Then, in the gloom of dusk, Lake Titicaca appeared like some dark ghostly immensity. Stacks of reeds and the odd reed boat were visible on the lake's mud flats.
Finally, we pulled into Puno in the darkness. We did a brief walk along the pedestrian-only main street, alive with bright lights, bars and restaurants and throngs of young people. But the back streets look like a good place to get your throat cut.
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