Where the Sun was Born

We awoke before dawn, and I went outside and sat on a pier jutting out into the bay at Punta Norte to watch it rise over the mountains and Lake Titicaca. As I watched it rise, fishermen returned from their early morning catch, and women led donkeys, pigs, llamas, and sheep out to pasture.

It was about a 45 minute walk to the ruins at the northern tip of the island, through the local residents' homes and fields. The people on this Bolivian island are generally shy, and they still wear traditional brightly colored woven dress and practice the sustainable farming methods of their ancestors without the help of machines.

This island was integral in the creation myths of the Tiahuanaco, Uros, and later Incan cultures. It was said that this island was the birthplace of the sun, and the birthplace of the first Incans. In particular, the northern side of the island was considered sacred, and religious ceremonies took place in this sacred place.

We set up blankets on the lower part of an amazing rock that was sacred to the Incans and the Tiahuanaco culture before them. The view was incredible, and I was happy to just sit and stare at the incredible beauty for hours. The ruins of the buildings were unspectacular, but the "Puma Rock" on which we sat was amazing. Almost every square foot of this part of the island has been shaped by the hand of ancient man. The fertile soil has been shaped into terraces for farming all the way from the water to the top of the hills. The rocks have been etched and shaped with serpents, pumas, hyperbolic forms, and criss-cross designs whose purpose is unrecognizeable to me. It is clear that this land was a sacred destination for countless ancient people before being abandoned after the fall of the Inca.

As we sat, several species of hawks performed shows for us overhead. Large black hawks with white patches underneath their wings swooped low along the sloping ground, up and down from the water. Slightly smaller white hawks performed circular patterns right above our heads, their shadows moving along the ground frighteningly quickly.

Our view out on the lake looked out over a stunning bay, with curving peninsulas that seemed to be embracing the water contained within. In the distance, the huge white mountains presided over miles and miles of lake.

We stayed all day on this part of the island, watching the sun move across the northern sky from east to west. We saw perhaps a dozen other tourists in the whole day, but they were never close enough to talk to us. I applied sunscreen a dozen times or more, but in this thin atmosphere my face turned red anyway. When the sun was finally down over the horizon, we made our way back to the town just in time as the light faded to darkness, the sky becoming a rainbow of hues. We sat down in a field of coca and wheat to watch the last of the sunset, and a sliver of a moon hung far overhead, reminding us that the smaller Island of the Moon awaits a future visit.