Intro
Day 350 felt like a pivot point, shifting from the mainland grind toward the aquatic silence of Lake Titicaca. The morning in San Pedro de Tiquina was slow and deliberate, but the transition to Copacabana was defined by a frantic race against both the border guards and the setting sun. By the time I laced up my boots for the afternoon hike, the air had settled into a crisp 12.8°C, and the paved streets of the town were beginning to hum with the energy of the coming evening.
The Border Hitch and a Lesson in Giving
- The day began at the 3810 Lodge with a breakfast that felt more like a seminar. Herman, the owner, laid out a spread of fruit, oatmeal, and bread rolls fresh from the oven. As I shared a bag of nut mix, we sat for two hours talking about the ‘give and take’ circle. He argued that receiving doesn’t start when you wait, but when you give first. It was a pleasant, slow start to a four-day excursion where I’d be leaving the bike behind for the islands. After showing me his two llamas and his nearly finished restaurant project, Herman gave me a 1 km lift to the main plaza in San Pedro de Tiquina.
- The calm evaporated at 11:05 at the border control booth which I ran into accidentally. I’d only brought my ID, thinking it was a simple day-trip transition, but the guards weren’t having it. They wanted the physical stamp in my passport, and my memorized passport number meant nothing to their computer system. I stood there, feeling the stress rise as they shook their heads. I had to call Herman. True to his philosophy of giving, he didn’t hesitate. He drove back down with my yellow panniers, delivered the passport, and refused to take a cent for the trouble. He just pointed me toward a collectivo and wished me luck.
Trout Pizza and Technical Fixes
- The collectivo ride to Copacabana was a 100 BOB investment in time, as I paid for the empty seats just to get moving. The road hugged the shoreline, offering glimpses of Lake Titicaca flashing blue between the hills. Once in town, the air was filled with the smell of fried fish and the shouting of boat tour operators. I headed straight for Jardin Bolivia and ordered a Trucha Pizza. It sounds like a strange fusion, but the local trout paired with a thin crust was exactly what I needed. I topped off a chocolate pancake with a banana I’d smuggled from Herman’s breakfast table, fueling up for the climb ahead.
- Before hitting the trails, I had to deal with the modern traveler’s curse: a dead data connection. The Entel store was a quick five-minute detour where a technician poked at my APN settings until the signal bars finally behaved. I made a quick stop at the Basilica of Our Lady of Copacabana, but a security guard hovered nearby, so I kept my phone in my pocket and moved toward the beach to drop my gear at Lodge Suma Samawi. By 16:15, it was time to see if my legs were ready for the three-peak circuit I had planned.
Chasing the Orange Glow
- The hike began with the ascent to La Horca del Inca. The trail was steep, and at 12.8°C, the wind had a sharp edge to it. I found myself pausing frequently, questioning if the view would actually improve, until a local runner went sprinting past me uphill. His pace was an silent insult to my heavy breathing, and it pushed me to reach the top by 17:30. From there, it was a sprint back down and a grueling climb up the incredibly steep street leading to Cerro Santa Barbara. The sun was getting low, and the shadows were stretching long across the valley.
- I reached Cerro Calvario at 18:23, with exactly eight minutes to spare before the sun dipped behind the horizon. The entire city of Copacabana was saturated in a deep orange glow, reflecting off the lake and the white walls of the buildings below. I sat on the stone stairs with about sixteen other people, all of us silent, watching the final centimeters of the sun disappear. The texture of the light changed from gold to a bruised orange in minutes, signaling the end of the day’s heat.
A Rocky Descent and Gnocchi
- The descent was a different beast entirely. I took a shortcut that turned out to be a jagged, rocky hiking trail. As the light failed, the path became a puzzle of loose stones and uneven drops. At 19:03, I finally pulled out my headlamp to navigate the last stretch. Just 200 meters from the city streets, on a set of uneven stairs, my left ankle gave way with a sickening twist. I caught myself before the full weight landed, and luckily, my right foot took the brunt of the recovery. It was a close call that could have ended the island trip before it started.
- I limped into an Italian Trattoria, desperate for salt and carbs. They served whole wheat bread with a house pesto that had a distinct nutty scent, though it lacked the punch of pine nuts I was hoping for. The gnocchi was decent, if a bit under-seasoned, but it did the job. By 21:00, I had secured a boat ticket and a room on Isla del Sol for tomorrow. The wind is picking up outside, hitting 15.8 km/h, and the temperature is holding steady at 12.4°C. My ankle is throbbing slightly, but the gear is packed, and the lake is waiting.
Overnight
I stayed at Lodge Suma Samawi, a beachside spot with a shared room and an ensuite bathroom. It was a practical choice for a quick morning departure to the islands.
Reflection
A physical passport is still the only currency that matters at a border, no matter how well you’ve memorized the numbers.
Route summary
- Date: 2026-10-05
- Distance: 7.78 km
- Elevation gain: 390 m
- Elevation loss: 386 m
- Duration: 4 h 59 min
- Time in Motion: 2 h 31 min
- Average Speed: 3.1 km/h