When feeling a little travel weary, the prospect of a 55minute flight is so much more appealing than 3 days travelling overland. However, with the famous Lake Titicaca lying between Cusco and La Paz, the high altitude bone shaking bus journey became a must do. When we found out the return leg would involve 4 buses and a boat we opted to spread the journey over 3 days.

The first part took us from Cusco, 7 hrs through a green valley and yet more beautiful scenery, to the town of Puno (still in Peru). In contrast to the pristine central streets of Cusco poverty was evident all along the road with very basic run down mud brick houses and derelict buildings located on large patches of wasteland. The bumpy roads were also in need of patching up, perhaps a reflection on the alarming statistic that 94% of Peruvians do not have an official job!

At the end of another day of scenic valley overload, the road dropped over some hills and provided our first view of the glistening blue waters of Lake Titicaca.. Standing at 3800m above sea level it is labelled as the highest navigable lake in the world- I'm still not sure what that means? Does it simply mean it is the highest lake in the world on which boats are allowed- a strange claim! On this trip we have already visited numerous higher lakes in Tibet including Lake Namtso at 4700m. There is also lake Parinacota in Chile at 4200m, so it isn't even the highest in South America! Lake Titicaca maybe more famous but I think it is mainly due to it's size and the fact people live on it, rather than numbers or spectacular backdrops etc.

The redbrick lakeside city of Puno was our stopover for 24 hrs before moving on to the Bolivian side of the lake. A busy looking town with outdoor markets, and as is becoming the norm in Peru, another anti government protest. Banner wielding locals in full traditional attire filled a street and were ready to voice their disapproval at something. In the absence of good old protest there is only really the charming central Plaza de Armas and church to see in the town itself.

Navigating our way through the hoards of disgruntled locals we found our way to the port in order to catch a ferry to the floating reed islands on the lake. Choosing to avoid the rip off tours we hoped to just take a boat out, explore and then get a boat back....well that's what we thought...cue the biggest disappointment of our trip so far!!

Unlike their relaxed and somewhat clueless Chilean neighbours, tourism is everything in Peru. Disappointingly however, it is as if their minister for tourism has used the Thailand model and completely overdone it. The boat ride out to the floating islands through the expanse of reeds was actually very interesting but then we got dropped on a reed island about the size of a football pitch with 8 huts all complete with traditionally dressed islanders with a selection of woven or general tat souvenirs. There was simply no where to go other than to the shops we had been delivered to...what was this all about?

A quick demonstration was delivered in Spanish on how the islands are effectively attached together and anchored to the lake floor before being covered by reeds. Even without our much improved Spanish comprehension our common sense may have sussed that one out. The island tour guide, ironically sporting a Brazil football shirt under his semi traditional Peruvian attire, then told us that the lake was divided by an imaginary line between the neighbouring countries. Peru owning the 'Titi' and Bolivia the 'Caca'. He finished his short presentation with a sales pitch on how and which souvenirs were made on the island before leaving us 15 mins to browse...very thoughtful!

We then paid £1 for the privilege of riding on his 20 man floating reed boat that in 15 mins of sunburn time carried us about 50 yards to the 'main' island. Essentially next door and of equal size, but separated by reeds, the main island simply had a restaurant and more souvenir shops. The main island's head man appeared disappointed when we didn't want to eat a 3 course meal at 11.30am!

It transpired that instead of an opportunity to wander around a main floating island, each island gets delivered a bunch of tourists on a rotation basis. The only highlight of this complete tourist trap being the opportunity to bounce around on the wobbly surface. We couldn't leave quickly enough with impressive sunburn the only real achievement of the mornings effort. Ok it was raining when we got up and we hadn't accounted for a change in weather and that we were at 3900m altitude...oopps! As we witnessed later on the bus, we weren't the only red faced non locals to fall foul of the weather in Puno that day!

The afternoon bus driver didn't hang about driving us 80 miles to the Bolivian lakeside town of Copacobana. The border crossing, 5 miles before arrival at Copacobana was as relaxed as any we have seen. A passport stamp, a 5 min walk across another no mans land and a Bolivian entry stamp which the friendly chap even let us direct placement of, in our rapidly filling passports. Our bags even remained on the bus unscanned at this outpost, which is a first at any border crossing so far on this trip! The whole process was completed in 20 minutes and 10 minutes later we were wandering the sleepy streets of Copacobana searching for a cheap room.

It didn't take long and our lake view hotel was so cheap we even could pay for the first night with the money (£8) we had exchanged for our remaining Peruvian currency at the border. Only 3-4 hrs from La Paz, Copacobana is a popular weekend destination for Bolivians. The relaxed town provides access to the lake with a selection of pedalos, kayaks or boat trips to nearby islands. We took on the walk up one of the surrounding hills that overlooks the town at an amazingly slow pace such is the altitude. The well earned prize was glorious views across the lake and hilly shorelines. With the far shores not even visible it emphasised the size of this glistening expanse of water. Looking down on the redbrick houses the lack of character was evident. House design is clearly not a strong area here with all houses resembling a 5 yr olds first drawing of a square house with 2 square upstairs windows and a door.

As with any South American town the Plaza de Armas and Church were central to the town with narrow cobbled streets running in all directions brimming with market stalls. There was however something strange afoot outside the church on this particular Saturday, with all manor of beat up old cars and vans parked up being adorned with flowers, garlands and even hats. It transpired that it was customary to bless the household car and decorate it with colourful garlands!

After a couple of days we again found ourself on a bus en route to La Paz. As with anywhere in South America we couldn't fathom how 90 miles was going to take 4 hrs. Admittedly the roads don't help, but what we didn't realise is that after an hour in the rolling hills we would need to cross a narrow part of the lake. The bus took a slow ferry and we went on the passenger boat for the 10 minute ride. Rather surprisingly they handed out life jackets, but in keeping with South American health and safety standards they soon ran out, still continuing to pile people on to the boat anyway.

Whilst waiting for the bus to float across we were fortunate enough to get the opportunity to try out the local Banos (Toilets). Now I remember thinking we had already seen as bad as it gets but alas......Tibet now has a rival in those stakes!

The remaining 60 miles took us across the Altiplano to La Paz. A flat barren land with a scattering of mud brick huts and the occasional snow peaked mountain on the horizon. Other than sleeping roadside or generally sitting around, Bolivian people tend to spend a Sunday either queueing for petrol or driving to a local stream to do their laundry. The banks of any stream or waterway visible from the road are full of clothes drying in the hot sun.

On entering La Paz the road passes through a shabby dead end town of El Alto. The site of the airport lies on the flat at 4000m above sea level. Driving through El Alto you would be excused for thinking you had gone back in time. The poorly maintained roads seem to have as many lanes as cars with general chaos breaking out both on and off the road. The 3rd world in all it's frantic inefficient fascinating glory!

A winding road takes the bus off the altiplano and plunges towards the city centre of La Paz some 350m lower. Our view a few weeks earlier was blanketed by low cloud and rain but on this clearer day the spectacular mountain backdrop towered over the city. An even clearer vision from a plane above, El Alto literally tinkers on the edge of the Altiplano with a sheer drop into the expanse of mountain side valley houses of La Paz below.

The amphitheatre of La Paz holds just over a million inhabitants (10% of the Bolivian Population). Famously labelled as the highest capital city in the world, this is another misleading statistic. Strictly speaking, the city of Sucre is actually the countries capital with La Paz listed as the administrative capital.

The cobbled narrow streets are interesting once you catch your breath but by far the most eye catching are the people, in particular the women. The local Bolivian women walk the streets or sit on their stalls wearing the most amazing of old styled traditional costumes. Clad in a long pleated shiny skirt, flat shoes and a shawl the original local ladies must have thought something was missing. To complete the outfit they made the obvious choice of adding a bowler hat. Serving no obvious purpose the hat just rests on top of the head perched as if a test to ensure the back remains straight. All of the bowler hat yielding women also carry a brightly coloured piece of cloth on their back, folded and wrapped over their shoulders such that it can hold a bundle shaped mass of whatever. If not a child hugging closely to the mothers shoulders, it is always something bulky.....but what?

The Bolivian women are an amazing shape, small and round resembling the old 'weeble' toys. You just want to knock them off balance to see if they wobble and recover. While the woman pile on their pounds on their hips, the mens weight is mainly contained to the nose. You have honestly never seen hooters like it, 30 plus men with the noses of pensioners.

For a 2nd time we found ourselves being ripped off by the Bolivian international departure tax (£15 per person). A lot of money given this costs more than a room in a hotel in La Paz! This airport 'rip off' tax appears everywhere across the world- maybe it could even be the solution to our own UK economic crisis?

After 2 months crisscrossing and climbing all over the Andes we now leave them behind, flying 3 hrs East we will swap the physiology confusing altitude for the lower green plains and scorching heat of Asuncion in Paraguay...in fact similar weather promises to stay with us over the remaining month of our trip....a welcome return to shorts, flip flops and thick air awaits......