It was time to make our way south via Inca Express, destination Puno, Peru's gateway to Lake Titicaca. Lake Titicaca is the highest body of water in the world and the largest landlocked body of water in South America. As we struggled up the staircase of our hotel, due to Puno's high altitude, we felt somewhat old. Having to take a break at just about every floor we found our room at what seemed like the top floor of the hotel. It is important to make a note here before you jump to a conclusion that we are still unfit after all our walking, that all hotels in Puno must have oxygen on the premises due to the altitude.

The sky burnt with an orange glow as the sun reflected off the mountain peaks of the Andes. Our view of the Andean sunrise was blocked by the towering mountain spires. It was apparent that somewhere, somehow a god of some sort, be it Incan or not was watching over us today. We made our way to the KM 82 checkpoint, however, something was not quite right. JAYDE'S CAMERA!!!!! After telling the rest of the group to keep walking and a frantic 1 hour search, we finally managed to find Jayde's camera by fluke. As a porter passed with our duffel bags strapped to his back we just about tackled him as a last ditch effort before filling a police report. Apparently, somehow, Jayde's camera had managed to roll off the bed and land in one of our duffel bags.

The overnight buses in South America are always an experience. It is often whispered on these buses that if you have not boarded a night bus with “Eternal Flame” blaring from the on-board television system then you have not lived. As our overnight hostess handed out our “night survival kits” we received more than our fair share of strange looks as our group sung at the top of their lungs... “Is this burning, an eternal flame......” Given that most of the group at this point were deliriously tired, it was not long before we are started counting z's.

From the border in Peru, Sebastian led us to buses down a dark alley way. As we frantically piled 16 backpacks onto the roof looking over our shoulders, a man continually screamed “HELADO, HELADO, HELADO” not 6 feet from were we were standing. Given the temperature was in excess of 35 degrees, the thought of having an ice cream (helado) running down ones arm was not very appealing. We piled into the bus and sweat was running freely, however our decision to not support the local ice cream man was reinforced when the ice cream halved in price for a local, but in the next breath told us the price was twice as much. We happily said goodbye t0 the ice cream man and drove out of Tumbes. Our next stop was to be the Peruvian Immigration office to acquire the necessary paper work to enter Peru.