The cobalt blue waters of Lake Titicaca are dotted with fishermen in their reed boats. At an altitude of 12,628 feet, the air is crystal clear. White clouds hang low over the red and brown hills of the Altiplano, reflected in the mirror-like surface of the lake. Irrigated maize and potato fields line the shore. Low, mud-brick houses with glinting tin roofs break the carpet-like pattern. Plumes of wood smoke rise from their chimneys. Indian women in bowler hats and vividly colored traditional garments, with woolen blankets draped around their shoulders, spend the morning herding their llamas.
We ride our KTMs on a paved road along the shoreline of the lake until we reach the town of Puno. Two policemen stop us. When they check our papers with a certain air of authority, we know immediately what they want from us - a bribe. For sure, they are not going to get it, but we play their game