A day exploring the floating reed islands of the Uros people, complete with musical welcomes, wobbly walkways, solar‑powered homes, a school visit, and a peaceful return to Puno to rest an ankle protesting against life on floating ground.
After breakfast, we left the hotel for the short drive through Puno to the pontoon, where a boat waited to take us out onto Lake Titicaca.
Across Lake Titicaca.
Lake Titicaca is the largest lake in South America by both volume and surface area, sitting high in the Andes on the border between Peru and Bolivia. It is also home to several Indigenous communities, including the Uros people, who live on floating islands made entirely of reeds, an extraordinary example of human ingenuity and adaptation.
As we sailed across the lake, we passed many small islands, each home to around eight to fifteen people. When we pulled alongside one of them, a group of Uro women greeted us with a song and helped us step onto the reed island. Their warm welcome reminded me of the greetings given to visitors in Hawaii.
Life on a Floating Island.
The first thing I noticed was how unstable the island felt. I could sense it shifting beneath my feet, and my mind kept insisting that a pile of reeds could not possibly hold my weight. Bracing myself for an undignified plunge into the lake, I made my way to a circle of reed benches in the centre of the island.
The women explained how the islands were built and maintained. We watched a demonstration of how the reed blocks were constructed. The reeds themselves have many uses; the white base is eaten as food and, thanks to its chemical makeup, also cleans teeth. If this stuff were sold in America, dentists would be out of business; the people here have naturally beautiful smiles that would cost a fortune back home.
We were invited to look around the island. Solar panels mounted on the reed houses provided electricity, which I found fascinating, a simple, sustainable solution. My romantic idea of a life untouched by modern influence was quickly shattered when we stepped inside a reed house and found a large television and a satellite dish offering hundreds of channels of the same daytime rubbish we endure in the UK. I only hope it doesn’t erode their traditional way of life.
A Reed Boat and a School Visit.
After exploring the island, we boarded a double‑hulled reed boat to travel to another island. Two girls from the first island climbed aboard and rowed us across. When we disembarked, I turned to take a photo of the boat, only to see a motorboat nudge it from behind and push it back to its starting point. So much for traditional rowing. You can’t get the staff these days.
We visited the nursery school on the island, run by a woman who had attended university but struggled to find work because she was considered a second‑class citizen for being from the floating islands. She founded the school herself and introduced us to her class. The children sang for us, and we returned the favour with a spirited rendition of She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain, which they seemed to enjoy far more than expected.
Back to Puno.
After leaving the school, we took a slow, peaceful ride back through the islands to Puno. Birds flew overhead and swam in the water; the sun shone, and it was a beautiful day on the lake.
Many of the group walked into town for a look around, but the uneven reed beds had swollen my ankle, so I returned to the hotel with the coach. I had lunch and a beer before resting my leg for a few hours.
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