Our first stop was to visit a couple of the floating reed islands.  These are built of floating peat/reed root blocks and reeds and continually renewed as they continually rot away.  They're understandably a little squidgy and walking on them is a slightly slow motion affair reminiscent of the first astronauts on the moon.

From the Islas Flotantes we were back aboard our boat to head for Isla Amanti further out in the lake where we would be spending the night.  The boat was of an "interesting" vintage, with extremely suspect battery terminals, thus requiring an equally interesting starting procedure. The HT coil sat outside the engine compartment wrapped in a wet rag, presumably because it was far too small for the engine and so tended to overheat. The wheel steering in the forward cabin had presumably worked once, but had long ago been replaced by a tiller connected directly to the rudder at the back of the boat.  This meant that the skipper helmed the boat perched on the aft rail but peering forward to look through the windscreen in the forward cabin some twenty feet away which was draped with tassles!

Lunch.  Cold chips, cold rice and a cup of mint tea.  Dinner would be the same with the added bonus of a fried egg (cold) and a bowl of tepid liquid, which we guess to be soup - Though by then we would have found the shop that sold rum and of course we'd also have the candle!  Breakfast, as lunch, but now also with added rum.

But before we got to the egg or the rum there was a compulsory climb to the top of the island to view the sunset, which we're sure would have been spectacular if we'd arrived in time.  Remember again - 4,500 metres.  (We were by now avid chewers of coca and drinkers of coca tea in an effort to ward off the effects of altitude sickness, but even so.)  We were secretly delighted to see a few younger visitors struggling even more than us.  This satisfaction swiftly melted away on observing the locals climbing up to their homes carrying enormous piles of belongings on their heads without any indication of discomfort.  They have apparently bigger lungs.

Up at first light (again) for the previously mentioned cold rice and chips, and compulsory traditional dancing in heavy costumes, before continuing to explore the lake islands and returning to Puno on our boat.  We didn't actually do any dancing or even dressing up - adopting the twin strategies of blaming a mixture of age, altitude and British reserve on the one hand and scowling fiercely at anyone who approached us on the other.  As an aside, you'll notice that we began this paragraph with the words, "up at first light" and that this phrase or others like it pop up with a depressing regularity in this narrative.  It's just that Peruvian journeys just don't seem to have any other start time.

From Puno, it's the dawn bus to Arequipa where we have a hotel for a couple of nights -  we will leave the bulk of our luggage whilst we make the trip to Colca.  Now, even in a country with an awful lot of towns which can be described as "not much of a place",  Colca is truly not much of a place.  It's not really even a town, but it does have the most amazing open-air thermal baths.  It's quite something to sit there, surrounded by the towering Andes, up to your neck in steaming mineral water, whilst sipping a cold Pisco Sour and watching the sun set.  It's so stunning that it's almost possible to forget the baggy much-used rented swimwear that you're sitting in - almost!

The other reason for being in Colca is that it gives access to the Colca Canyon and that, rather than the opportunity to wear rented underwear,  was the main reason for being there. The Colca Canyon is an immense scar in the planet's crust.  Deeper (though it has to be said, less spectacular) than the Grand Canyon.  But the main attraction are the condors.  It's an early start (up at 0430), a long gruelling trip over unmade roads to get there, and at first the condors do seem to have taken the day off.  But as the sun begins to increase the temperature, the thermals start to rise and the occasional black shape slides out of a nest hidden in the cliffs below, before frustratingly disappearing a few minutes later.  In another half hour the thermals have strengthened and then the show really begins.  It's a breathtaking sight to watch these huge black birds, effortlessly spiralling up towards and then above you, often passing within a few metres.  We are clearly no threat and also (hopefully) not prey. So they just keep on doing what they are so perfectly evolved to do and they ignore us completely. 

Lima hasn't improved whilst we've been away and it's still foggy.  Edgar offers us another city tour.  We can't think of a decent excuse so agree to go.  For this trip Jorge Louis has rustled up a circa WW2 vintage military minibus with circa WW2 seats!  We are to share this trip with a small group of Icelandic tourists - it's a small world!  Actually the trip isn't bad, but the star turn is the restaurant.  The owner is a real food enthusiast and has scoured the country for traditional recipes that he can refine and serve in his restaurant.  Perhaps here would have been a better place to have tried the deep fried Guinea Pig - rather than the greasy tough example previously sampled in Puno.

And that was the end of our whirlwind trip around South America.  Time to rearrange our luggage for our next destination with a different climate.   Oh, and as a footnote, as he said goodbye to us at the airport for our flight to New York, Edgar handed us the Pesos to cover our taxi from Ollantytambu.  Like we said, scrupulously honest.