Isla Del Sol? Where exactly did they get that name from?? I nearly froze to death!

It's an amazingly beautiful island on Lake Titicaca - 3826 metres above sea level. Mostly desert hills and mountains, fringed with green around the coast which looks out onto the lake. The only lake I have ever seen which has a never ending horizon.

Just next door is Isla della Luna – a tiny little rock of an island that you can take camping trips to. The desert land is full of multi coloured minerals that glisten red, gold, black, blue in the sun.

The sunsets here are amazing. The land shines all different colours and the sky turns from pink to red to purple and then bright blue. When the light fades on Isla Del Sol, Isla Della Luna is bathed in soft, golden pink. The whole island is overlooked by a cordelliera of snowcapped mountains. Its sun burns hot during the day and everywhere you go is a major climb, so I find myself peeling down to strappy tops all the time. But the moment the sun sets the wind kicks in and suddenly it’s not just cold, it’s absolutely freezing. I’ve been walking around at night looking like the Mitchelin Man because I have so many layers on.

Since we're here for Tim’s birthday we decided to go for one of the places in the Lonely Planet ‘Splash out’ boxes. We’re paying about $15. It’s really lovely. A fabulous little house at the top of the Inca steps. It’s got a lovely terrace where you can see the sun setting over Isla Della Luna in the west and turning the mountains pinky gold to the east all at the same time. The owner is away on holiday and it is being looked after by a gorgeous Bolivian lady and her lovely kids. She doesn’t speak any English but we are doing just fine. My Spitalian is coming along nicely.

We decided on this place because it was advertised as having hot water and we wanted to treat ourselves for Tim’s birthday. No such luck I’m afraid. I tell you something though – I have the pertest boobs I’ve had in ages!

It's got to be one of the most chilled places on Earth. There is nothing here, bar the odd road trader, a cafe on the main port and a couple of small privately run guest houses nestled at the top of the mountain. There are lots of donkeys and llamas wondering around and everyone – and by that I mean every single last local, is in traditional dress.

There are a few houses scattered around the mountain top and along the Inca steps. The locals are obviously used to seeing tourists, but we’ve hardly had any hassle at all. People just smile hello and get on with their thing. Many of them have donkeys loaded with huge bags that seem to be continuously being brought down to the beach. I have no idea what’s in the bags – there doesn’t seem to be anything to collect from up here, apart from fantastic photos.

This is the 6th birthday I’ve spent with Tim. Usually he organises to meet up with friends in a bar or at home for drinks and then we head off to a club – invariably drum and bass – Fabric or someplace similar. By 7am we are on a tube heading back, 15 people or so in tow, to ours for more music, more alcohol, more talking rubbish and generally upsetting the neighbours. This one was slightly different, and some what healthier.

We spent it walking, and walking and walking, from one end of the island to the other. There was nowhere to stop for anything along the way, so we brought supplies of chocolate and water from a lady’s front room before we set off. I had knocked on just about every door that looked remotely like a shop front to see if there was any form of cake or biscuit I could get that might act as a birthday cake, but there was nothing. Chocolate bars it was then.

By the time we were heading back we'd been walking for 8 hours up and down massive hills, still trying to get used to the altitude. At one point we were walking down a steep hill out of the clouds. The only other tourist we saw that day stopped us and asked whether we could walk back to the top again so that he could take a photo. Dana and Tim walking out of the clouds. If ever that Argentinean traveller ever somehow reads this on the net – please could we have a copy?

We reached the Inca ruins on the other side of the island – a mini Machu Picchu and just spent the day marvelling at our surroundings.

The island gets its name from the Incas who believed that the sun was born on the island and that the very first Inca was born from a huge rock on the south side of it, just by the ruins that overlook the lake.

One thing I can say about the Incas is that they always chose the most beautiful spots to make camp. I much preferred this place to Machu Picchu. It's so much calmer and I find myself starting to daydream about Inca princesses.

Lake Titicaca is stunningly beautiful. And it’s SO PEACEFUL. We saw one tourist – the guy who took our photo (and he was Argentinean so we decided he was almost a local), one old man, four children, two llamas, some vicunas and a few sheep all day long.

The kids here are funny, and wise. We came across a group of four girls walking along the ridge accompanied by llama and sheep. We stopped to say hello and take a photo. I had to strike a deal with one of them, the eldest aged about 11 before I was allowed to take the shot. We agreed on a dollar.

Once the shot was taken the kid started to complain that I hadn’t given her enough money. ‘No, no, four dollar! One, two three, four girl, one dollar each!’ The nerve of it made me laugh so much that I almost gave it to them, but then I changed my mind, because it would mean they’d ask the next person for 4 dollars then try to quadruple it. We did treat them to lots of chocolate though, so they left happy.

It was a such a fantastic day, but by what I thought was the end of it, I was at the point where I really thought I couldn't walk any more. I’d just spotted the flat ridge that leads to our lodgings, when suddenly we heard music and drum beats.

Tim was insisting the drums were coming from right on the top of the mountain that we were supposed to walk past on the flat ridge to get home. He headed straight for it. At first I told him I couldn't go. There was no way I was going to make it up that mountain. We were at nearly 4000 meters. My legs were jelly and it was at least another 100m or so up – that might not sound like much, but when you’ve been walking for hours on end at that altitude even a couple of paces can seem impossible.

Tim looked really pained as I convinced him to go on without me. But after a few minutes I decided to force myself up there. I knew it was going to hurt, but it was Tim’s birthday and there was no way I was going to spoil such a fantastic day for him. I was gasping for breath and starting to feel a bit like I did back in Colca Canyon, but I made it somehow. I figured that if I could get through that last hour of that Colca Canyon ascent, I could get through anything. I knew I was going to be rewarded when I got up there too, so I focused on the sound of the drums getting louder and louder and tried to ignore my lungs that were threatening to explode on me.

Once at the top I stood panting, watching Tim getting his birthday present Bolivia style. There was this mad festival going on. All the locals were very drunk, dressed in traditional clothing and wore hats and long garlands made from fruits, onions and potatoes. There were drums playing and they were dancing in file around the mountain edge as the sun set.

They didn't seem to mind us being there at all – to be honest I think they were all way too drunk to care. There was a local looking man dressed in normal clothing watching the proceedings. I asked him what was going on. They were celebrating the first potato plantation of the season (there are apparently 103 different types of potato in Bolivia). The ritual dance was an offering to the Gods so that they would get a good crop.

Yup, this is 2004, yup this is a world where capitalism rules, money talks and few believe in a real God. Yup, this is really happening in front of my eyes and I am not watching The Discovery Channel.

It occurred to me just how far I was from London, from the world of television, from wondering whether anyone really would ever bomb or gas the tube. I am absolutely certain that the people here would have no idea that September 11 ever happened at all. Why should they?

We watched the pairs of men and women twirling round in circles as they moved around the mountain top for as long as we could bare the cold. Then, as night fell, we wandered back down.

We ate at our lodge. The lady had cooked a massive fish dinner especially for us and had somehow got hold of a bottle of very nice Chilean red wine. Trust me, when you haven’t had a decent glass of wine for as long as I hadn’t, you do not care that you are drinking red with fish.

She handed us back the washing we had asked her to do. She explained that she had actually brought it all the way down to the port by donkey and hand washed it all in the lake. I remembered waving to her that morning as she set off down the steps with her donkey. I felt so stupid. How could I ever have thought that they would have had a washing machine? To be honest, I didn’t even think that…I just didn’t think. I hope she didn’t mind. I’m going to leave her a massive tip. A birthday with a difference indeed.