Copacabana, Lake Titicaca

One great thing about the Bash and Crash hostel in La Paz is that the people who work there can sort almost any logistical arrangements for you at the drop of a hat. The flow of high-maintenance, low-budget travellers is fast and constant, so by necessity they're far more switched on than those concierge numbskulls in 3, 4 or even 5-star hotels. They also have a resident tour operator whom you would have to be a fool not to put to use. I merely had to tell her where I wanted to go, and within 1 minute the seat was reserved on the coach to Copacabana that picked me up right outside the door, at 9am sharp.

Altogether, I had spent 14 days traveling with the Noah and the girls, and another 4 with just Noah in La Paz, so it was a mixed bag of feelings I had as the coach climbed to El Alto and headed out west. Certainly there was a sense of relief from having the space and freedom to do whatever I wanted, but nonetheless it was strange having no-one to talk to again. For only the second time on this trip, I put on my headphones and watched the scenery go by.

Mount Huayna Potosi.

To get to Copacabana, the coach has to cross over to the peninsula.

Another 30 kms of this...

Shared between Bolivia and Peru, Titicaca is the world's highest lake (even higher than La Paz) and also the largest in South America. The plan was to stay a couple of nights in the Bolivian town of Copacabana, then head into Puna (in Peru), either by bus or boat.

Copacabana (centre of map) to Puno (left) was the plan.

Two days earlier, rumours had surfaced about a border blockade on the Peru side, but I didn´t take any notice. Travellers always somehow find a way; I could just tag on to them when I was good and ready. For now, I wanted to relax at the Aldea del Inca hostel, which was clean, welcoming, spacious, and most of all, away from the riff raff. The owner was also excellent at giving me daily updates on the situation in Peru which, more from his face expression than his eloquent Spanish, I gathered was turning from bad to worse. By the end of day 2, not even a cash bribe could persuade tour operators to make the journey, allegedly. And the BBC were now reporting on the Puno riots so it was pretty clear this was going to last a while longer, necessitating the urgent formulation of a Plan B. And what an excellent plan it was.

Frankly, there are far worse places in the world to be stuck in than Copacabana. As I wasn't in the slightest hurry, I merely had a word the hostel owner who was only too happy to hold on to his one and only customer while the world sorted its troubes out. The sun was Mediterranean, the trout was freshly caught from the lake, and I had just reached a good part in Hillary Mantel´s very aptly named book for the occasion, A Place of Greater Safety.