Perils of Peru

By Anne Rothwell

Darkness was approaching as we skittered down the mountainside in the little bus.  It had started to snow and the narrow roads were covered in icy sleet, but that didn’t slow down the driver, who clearly wanted to get to our destination as soon as possible.  We finally arrived at the top of a hill which gave a great view of the lights of Puno and the black space of Lake Titicaca down below.  Turning into a narrow road leading downhill, the driver almost immediately decided this was the wrong road and attempted to reverse back to the main road.  I could feel my heart hammering with alarm as he struggled with this difficult manoeuvre on the ice, skating from side to side, but he eventually succeeded.

The snow had stopped, but now we were assailed by torrential rain and the most violent thunderstorm I’d ever experienced.  It was clearly straight above as the vivid lightning and deafening thunderclaps coincided.  As we got lower towards the lake, the water gushed down the streets in a torrent, so it felt like it might lift the bus and carry it down.  People stood on the edges of the high kerbs, clearly wondering how they could cross the road.  I later learned that this was a fairly common occurrence, which washed the city clean, but was responsible for much pollution in the area of the lake closest to the shore.

Fortunately I was dropped close to my hotel and I stumbled inside with relief.  Once in my room, I unzipped my bag.  Alas, it had been travelling on the bus roof during the storm and hadn’t managed to withstand the tempest so that everything within, at one side, was soaked.  This was not the best  of days for me and very long.  At 3am the previous night, I’d had to get a plumber as the water from the endlessly flushing toilet was beginning to ooze up through the floor tiles.  At 5.15, my promised wake-up call never came, but fortunately I was awake.  I know I travel for the interesting experiences, but sometimes I wonder why!  On the plus side, I’d managed to see two condors soaring both above and below the rim of the Colca Canyon as we crossed the Andes, so not altogether a bad day.

I hung up my clothes, then, too tired to eat, I fell into bed.  I’d planned my schedule so that I could visit the floating islands on Lake Titicaca and hopefully sail in a reed boat, on my birthday, which was the following day.  Who knew what problems the weather may have caused?

The next morning I woke to sunshine, dry streets and the best day of my whole trip.

First published in VISA 118 (December 2014)