Cole Tyler

Got this e-mail from her; thought you might enjoy a good read. I know she’s pissed and I actually understand her issues with me, but as mad as she is, I can only remember her one way. (check out the picture)

Thinking of Adelaide

 

 

LETTER (e-mail)

 

I actually believed you were coming home. And as angry and hurt and
many more emotions I don’t even care to list, I can’t even think
straight right now. It is difficult to even type. I’m shaking. My
tears are leaking into the keyboard. I don’t know what to say. Um…so
you obviously didn’t come home. Pretty sure “Maya” had to do with that. What the FUCK?!!!!!!! I don’t even know why I am writing to you. Actually, I
think based on impulse, I’m worried and as much as I HATE you right now I need to know you are ok. I can’t live like this. You’ve driven me
completely insane. Back and forth, back and forth. Waiting on your
decisions. Can’t do it anymore. Just need to know you are alive and
ok. That’s it though.  Don’t want and/or need to know anything else
about you, EVER. Goodbye Cole.

As I sit in the Phantom Internet Café Bar in Miraflores I can feel the next stage of this trip about to occur. I can also feel the next stage of my life beginning.

 

Maya took off early this morning and we are hoping to meet up after the crew and I round Cape Horn.  My plan is to relax in Buenos Aries for a few weeks before either heading home or potentially heading to visit her. We shall see.

 

Off to the boat as we are about a week away from Cape Horn and the weather looks good.

 

Cole

When I was a kid my grandfather used to constantly tell me that no matter what, “listen to your heart.” Well just a few hours ago, I did just that.

 

You see, last night was Maya’s final night with us so we all took her out to eat in Miraflores. A great night as we ate, drank, and danced (or attempted to).

 

We all had a blast.  It’s kind of funny because half of the crew seems to protect Maya and consider her as their sister and half of them protect her because they want her.

 

Regardless, she and I hung all night. As we laughed into the night I felt my heart being lifted to a place that it has never been and I felt as light as a feather as we danced. While that easily may have been the tequila, it was also the scent of Maya.

 

As the evening ended and the crew dissipated in anticipation of our morning departure, Maya and I sat alone in the corner of the restaurant.

 

As we sat there, it seemed as though the music got lighter and our souls got closer. From the smallest touch on the wrist to her subtle brush of my leg, I felt like I did in the 5^th grade when I developed my very first crush on Adelaide.

 

I was giddy, excited, nervous and so relaxed at the same time. A weird feeling as I cannot describe it, but my grandfather also told me that it is impossible to describe love. “You’ll just know it” he would tell me.

 

Anyway, we sat together without saying much for the next 30 minutes before she, in her bold journalistic fashion, turned to me, leaned in and whispered two simple words.

 

“Thank You.”

 

Those two simple, one syllable words sent chills down my spine, lifted the hairs from my neck, and in an almost universally magnetic way, took my head and leaned it in as what followed was the most incredible, passionate, and lustful kiss my lips ever encountered.

 

And in a moment that seemed to last forever, yet end so bluntly, Maya stood up and smiled. She then grabbed a hold of my hand and walked out as a gust of wind was blowing her dark hair back.

 

And it was then, when she walked out, that I fell in love with her.

 

But it was also then, when she walked out, that I thought of Adelaide.

 

Talk soon,

 

Cole

Was going through Gramps’ journal on the bus ride to Lima and came across his entry when the rain got the best of him, like it may have towards me on the Incan Trail. I think you’ll enjoy and get to know him and his temper a little bit more. Gonna grab a bite to eat with the fellas and Maya.

 

                                                April 28

Fanning Island in sight but poor signs of getting there because we are becalmed and it is raining and has rained incessantly for the last four days. It seems as though all the windows of heaven are open. There is nothing but water above us, water beneath us. In fact there is water all around and whatever light air there is hauls around the compass about three times in 24 hours keeping us busy bracing the yards continually. Add to this, short intervals of scorching rays of a torrid sun and you have all that is necessary to break down the constitution of any common man. The ship’s Mate is laid up reduced to a mere skeleton. Some of the members of the crew are sick while others are complaining of sore hands and a disagreeable feeling is pervading throughout the whole ship with signs of insubordination among the crew during the last two days. My apprehensions are anything but agreeable unless we get fair weather with the change of the moon. We have the most stubborn and unmanageable crew I ever saw aboard a ship. They are all foreigners with the exception of one and he is a devil of the first water. I am feeling unwell and am certainly not in a very agreeable mood and have but one thing to say to them and that is that they must kill before they can trample on me. I have patiently held off punishing them in a number of instances because I did not have sufficient grounds to warrant extreme measures. Today, however, forbearance ceased so I struck a real genuine John Bull on the job and sent him head first under a spare topmast. I knew he would resent the blow as soon as he could get up so I head him down, when suddenly a damn big Scotchman pinned both of my arms behind me and in two minutes I had the whole watch on top of me. The Captain came to my help and got me out of the crowd with my face in a rather lacerated state. While the Captain was between me and the men, the Scotchman who was spokesman for a part of the watch happened to edge in front of an open door in the forward house, the threshold being about 20 inches from the deck. I could get hold of no weapon to strike him so I made a spring at him and sent him backwards over the doorway. He struck with the back part of his head on a large iron boat davit. Although I am sorry for what I did if the Captain would have left me alone I would, on the impulse of the moment, placed that Scotchman at a place where he never would have pinned another man’s arms. The Captain gave me a severe lecture and put me under strict injunctions. I suppose if the man’s health had not been in a precarious state things might have looked better. I don’t care a pipe, the ship must carry me home and that is all I want from her for if ever I get on American soil once more it must be a decidedly advantageous inducement that will get me on board another ship.

View of Machu Picchu

The Lost City

 

 

 

Inca TrailHiking the Inca TrailMachu Picchu