The night before I visited the highest volcanic geyser field in the world I was warned about two things. "It will be well below freezing when we arrive at the Tatio geysers," my Chilean guide Jose said in heavily accented English. I quickly disregarded this comment. The Atacama region is a desert, so I was sure light clothing would be sufficient. After a dramatic pause came Jose's second warning. "Be very careful when walking on the geyser field because scalding water can erupt beneath your feet at any moment. Three turistas have died from third degree burns." This advice wasn't so easily ignored.

At 3am the next morning we departed San Pedro - the sleepy hamlet that is the unlikely tourist hub of Chile's Atacama desert. We drove north for two hours, bouncing violently along a potholed goat-track as we climbed into the Andes. When I groggily emerged from the minivan the horizon had just begun to lighten and it was ten degrees below zero. Most of my tour group were woefully unprepared for the bone-chilling conditions at 4300m above sea level. Jose looked witheringly at us shivering under thin blankets and ponchos and I swear I could see him gently mouthing the words "stupido gringos".

Thankfully wasn't long until I was distracted from the bitter cold. As the first rays of sun crawled across the empty plain, geysers sprung into life as if somebody had flicked a switch. The sun's heat caused jets of steam and boiling water to shoot forth from a thousand cracks in the salt-encrusted earth and splash noisily all around. The salty and sulfurous plain was soon a gigantic steam bath struck golden orange in the early morning light. Ghostly figures appeared and vanished behind veils of billowing water vapor.

When planning my exploration of South America, I hadn't expected experiences and scenery quite as otherworldly as this. For me the triangular region where the three Andean nations of Chile, Peru and Bolivia collide boasts the most stunning high altitude landscapes in South America. From the volcanic moonscapes and geysers of Chile's Atacama desert, to the heavenly serenity of Bolivia's Lake Titicaca - it is a place of uncommon natural and cultural beauty.

At the second corner of this vibrant Andean triangle lies the very civilised Peruvian city of Arequipa. Nestled under the perfect conical slopes of the dormant volcano El Misti, Arequipa is known as Peru's "second city", but most travelers far prefer it to the eternally grey and dour capital of Lima. It is a lively and diverse cultural centre blessed with a clear and dry climate. The advantages of life here aren't lost on Arequipa's residents, who consider themselves a cut above the rest of the country, to the point where they are considered snobs by many of their countrymen. I encountered this superior attitude soon after arriving from Chile. I was digging through a selection of colourful Llama wool rugs and fine alpaca scarves in an outdoor market when I overheard a conversation between two well-heeled local women dripping in gold jewelry and sporting oversized Gucci sunglasses.

"Viva la republica independiente de Arequipa" (long live the independent republic of Arequipa) they exalted only half-jokingly, as they looked down their noses at the rough-edged indigenous textiles I was so enamored with. Granted, it would be difficult not to develop a slight sense of superiority in a city of such charms. Arequipa's Plaza de Armas (central square) boasts a style of ostentatious architecture that is guaranteed to stop you in your tracks. The 16th Century Spanish colonial structures vary from the stark and austere to complex baroque facades depicting angels, seashells and pumas. Many of these historic buildings are constructed of blocks of gleaming white 'Sillar' stone that that is unique to this region, having been formed in one of the nearby volcanoes. This pearly-white stone is a stunning canvas that reflects the changing colours of the day and glows like embers in the desert sunset.

Dusk is the perfect time of day to wind down with a glass of Chilean wine in one of the fine eating establishments. The best restaurants are situated on huge terraced balconies high above the Plaza de Armas. Arequipa's residents' appreciation of the finer things in life is best seen in the huge variety of dishes available locally. Ceviche is a raw seafood dish so popular in South America that both Peru and Chile vigorously defend their claim to inventing it first. Commonly it contains fish, shrimp, scallops and squid marinated in lime juice and a hearty dose of hot chili peppers, served on a bed of corn, sweet potatoes and onions. It's an explosively tangy delight and many Peruvians swear it is the perfect hangover antidote. More adventurous carnivores can also sample the traditional Peruvian delicacy of Cuy - known in the west as Guinea Pig - usually roasted whole and presented on your plate complete with nose, ears and feet.

At the Bolivian corner of this Andean triangle lies legendary Lake Titicaca. Covering 8372 square kilometers, it is 12 times larger than New Zealand's lake Taupo and also holds the record as the highest navigable lake in the world at 3870m. Although Titicaca contains more than 70 islands, Isla del Sol (Island of the Sun) is the most sacred because the Inca believed this was where the sun and the moon were born.

When I travelled here by badly maintained ferry from the Bolivian mainland the lake was typically calm - reflecting the infinitely deep highland sky back on itself. Stepping on the rocky shore of Isla del Sol, I was immediately struck by how little life appears to have changed since the Inca ruled this region. There are no cars or bicycles on this steep and rocky island. The ground is so covered by ancient Inca crop cultivation terraces that the landscape is impossible to traverse except by foot or beast of burden. A sun-wrinkled farmer leading a small team of mules passed me on the stoney ridge-line track. He eyed me curiously as I leaned heavily on my walking stick, panting breathlessly in the thin air. Without towns or traffic the silence on these trails is almost claustrophobic. The blue-black expanse of sky above is so near the edge of the earth's atmosphere that sounds are muffled. Lonely birdcalls among the tussock and wildflowers only penetrate a short distance and even the mules seem to tread gently.

As the afternoon drew to a close I found a deserted home-stay run by a local Indigenous family. I chatted to a giggling grubby-faced boy in my rudimentary Spanish until his mother arrived to discuss my accommodation. She was a typically stocky, strong-looking woman dressed in a brown wraparound with a traditional bowler hat atop her jet black pig-tails. She led me past goats and Llama placidly chewing clover and towards my cliff-top room surrounded by lemon-yellow wildflowers. The cost was a mere 30 Bolivianos (less than a latte in a smart cafe), but my rickety wooden veranda had the type of view money can't buy. In northeast across the brooding waters of the great lake I could see the Cordillera Real mountain range, an imposing snow-topped fortress with several peaks rising to more than 6000m. This natural barrier and the blue-black of the sky adds to the all-pervading sense that Isla Del Sol is a bubble suspended in time and space, hidden from the world and somehow insulated from its impact.

In fact, locals like to tell visitors that Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie come here when they want to escape the world. If the gossip is to be believed, they frequent a strip of rustic restaurants serving Titicaca trout on the island's highest ridge. While their menus are limited, these restaurants have unbeatable views of half-hour-long sunsets. So complete is the sense of removal from the outside world, that apparently nobody so much as stared at Brad and Ange as they enjoyed the local "Pacena” beer and watched the sun sink into Lake Titicaca.

It's not just the mountain vistas that create a sense of timeless isolation from the outside world. Neither is it the noticeable lack of oxygen at nearly four kilometers above sea level that slows movement and creates serenity of thought. If fact, calmness seeps from every detail of these high Andean landscapes.