Puno - training for altitude

  Puno, Peru
Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Monday morning, bright and early we were up and ready at Cusco station, ready for the 10 hour train trip to Puno and Lake Titicaca. Jane was feeling a lot better when we boarded - so much so that she ordered wine for lunch - but was concerned that we were climbing another 1,000 metres.



The train, whilst not as plush as the Hiram Bingham, was pretty spectacular. It had a great observation car at the back. Entertainment on board included a band and a fashion show



Our company for the trip was two Australians, Jan and Deb (no matter what names Australians are christened with, by the age of two they've managed to shorten them to a three letter diminutive), who were about as positively stereotyped as you could get. Deb had sold up, set off around Aus (see what I mean) in a bloody great coach, with a trailer on the back carrying her car, dumped hubby after a couple of months and finally settled for a short while in Alice Springs. She seemed able to turn her hand to pretty much any job that came her way.



Whilst Jane and I had been working through our umpteen course lunch on Hiram Bingham train to Machu Picchu, Deb and Jan had been doing the four day hike of the Inca trail to the same place. Not only that, but by describing their trip with the cheerful enthusiasm that only the Australians can manage, they came dangerously close to convincing Jane that we should make the same trip.

Fortunately (though not for Jane) altitude sickness came to my rescue as she shortly after suffered what I can only tactfully describe as a violent physical reaction. Luckily, at the time I was able to be very supportive. Suffice to say that the last five hours of the journey were very quiet, but tense.



Deb tried to lighten the mood as we passed through the town of Juliaca, describing through her Pisco-soured haze the trackside market that seemed to stretch for miles to Jane....'look, they're selling hoses there....and there...and there....and they're selling brushes there...and there...(ad infinitum)

When we arrived at Puno, by the shore of lake Titicaca, our guide Tula tried to interest us in a city tour there and then. Our facial expressions and terse replies gave the game away that we were not in the mood to be happy snappers that evening. In fact, we put the following day's trip across Lake Titicaca on hold as well.



That night both of us slept badly. We cancelled the lake trip and looked to get out of the forthcoming two day trip to Quito (2,800 metres) as an overwhelming desire to return to sea level gripped us.

One quick phone call to Journey Latin America (and a severe flexing of our flexible friend from Coutts) sorted everything. Within two hours we were at Juliaca airport awaiting a flight to Lima, at blessed sea level. That night (Tuesday) we spent at a hotel at Lima airport, ready for a flight to Guayaquil (also sea level) the next morning.