Cole Tyler

Happy New Year!  Heading to this bar called The Rock.  Should be interesting as the night already was pretty fun with the crew excited for New Years Eve.  Crazy how it is still a big deal over here.  Staying at Hotel Flamingo, a classic hostel.

 

Also want to say thanks for all of the support. I’m not sure who many of you bloggers are, but your small, subtle comments have aided me throughout this entire trip.

 

And for everyone back home, I miss ya, I love ya, and I thank ya.

 

Cole

I remember my mother telling me that life is about experiences; it’s the little

things that make the experience. Things like small conversations, witnessing

different events, or accepting various challenges. This voyage has had it all so

far. Who knows what’s next?

 

We just landed in the Galapagos Islands. Captain Carbajal told us that we deserved a little fun on our voyage, but Isaac told me that this is a place his Dad always wanted to see and with this likely being his final trip to sea, he had to make the stop.

 

Seems like a cool island. I don’t know much about it other than Darwin was big over here as it was a major part of his voyage. And since he is known for his theory on evolution I’m going to check this town out and evolve. (I know it’s corny, but whatever.)

 

Talk later,

 

Cole

Just checked my email and saw this message from Adelaide.  I don’t have much time as the boat leaves soon, so all I can respond with is this –

I’m sorry.

Adelaide, if you read this, I’m sorry.  That’s all I can say.  I hope you can believe me when I tell you I’m not trying to play with your emotions.  I just have to do this.  For me.  If I don’t, I won’t ever be the man you want anyway.  I’ll always be looking over my shoulders thinking “what if?”

I’m off to the boat.  I hope you will give me the opportunity to explain all of this to you one day. 

And for those of you following along this saga, I’ve included her email below. 

Adelaide’s email:

You’re coming home?! Are you serious? Is this for real? I read what
happened but…I mean…really? Didn’t expect that after my last
email. Didn’t even want to read your blog ever again. Brady,
understanding my feelings after everything that has happened, insisted
I read the December 21st entry. I don’t know what to think. What am I
supposed to say? I want nothing more than to welcome you home with
open arms and have things go back to the way they were but things are
different now. Just when I come to terms with the fact that you are
not coming home to me and I have started to move on, you tell me you
are coming home. WHAT THE “F” COLE?!!!!!!! IT’S NOT FAIR! WHY? I
mean…I read every entry. I am sorry about the death of your young
friend. I know you have been running into a lot of trouble the past 2
weeks and I thank the heavens above that you are alive and ok. I don’t
know what I would do if anything ever happened to you. I don’t even
want to think about “what if” situations. You mean the world to me. It
doesn’t exist in my mind. I can’t wait to see your face in front of me
but I don’t know what I will do. Should do. Embrace you and kiss you
all over? Slap you across the face and kick you in the nuts? I am
confused. Angry, frustrated, sad, you name it! Why now? I mean…I read
the entries, but WHY? Why did you ever leave me? WHY? WHY? WHY? And
you lost your phone. And you said you aren’t doing any more entries.
Are you even going to get this? I’m in the dark Cole! Were you able to
get a flight? How long will it take you to get home? I miss you so
much! The longer this email gets, the more excited I am becoming. We
do need to talk about things when you get back. There have been some
changes. I want you to know that I love you. I know that you know
that. I just need to let you know again. If you get this, please call
me ASAP! Be safe. See you soon!!!! Adalaide.

The services were beautiful. Diego was a special young man who’s spirit and life will continue to influence and inspire others.

 

I pray that his brother Raphael can forgive me.

 

As you may have already guessed, I have decided to fight on.  To continue on my journey.  To LIVE my life and follow through with my life-long dream of rounding the Cape.

 

Mom, Dad, Andy — thank you for your love and support even though you might not understand this dream of mine.  I feel like it is something I must do, and I’ve come to realize, now more than ever, that if I don’t pursue my dream, I don’t think I’ll ever really be living. 

 

Since everything that has happened on this trip so far, and since meeting the inspiring people that I have along the way (thanks, Maya), I have this renewed sense of purpose.  I want to live my life at a NEW NORMAL!

 

We shove off in about an hour.  Off to sea.

 

Cole

We walked to her beachfront hotel another quarter-mile away, both of us staring at the ocean and both of us sobering up from the one too many shots of grand marnier provided by that bartender, Jaycen. It was around 3:00 AM. 

 

We stopped in front of her hotel and I gave myself a good ‘ol pep talk as she was about to walk out of my life forever. So, like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, I said “what the fuck” and poured my heart out to her. Not sure why I told Maya everything, but I had to get it off my chest and I figured that the likelihood of seeing her again was slim to none.  We both have flights booked to two very different parts of the world.

 

To paraphrase, I told her that when I booked this trip, it was as though I was on some drug. Like the power of the Cape was urging me to it. That by experiencing the majesty of the Cape, I would be able to change the world because the stories I would tell would urge others to tap into their imaginations, be curious, and wonder why . . . and why not.

 

As I told her, my eyes actually began to water as I held my journal, the one Tierney gave me in Hermosa Beach, and spoke about this blog, my writing, Adelaide, and this journey.

 

I told her how I booked this trip because it was my dream since I was a child, ever since my grandfather first spoke to me about its power. I have read about it, wrote about it, and dreamt about it for years and now that I’m here, it’s like, ‘what am I thinking?!?’

 

I mean look at me! I’m just another number, just another person in this over-populated world. I had this vision of changing others and I can’t even take care of myself. I can’t even take care of an 8-year old boy!

 

After my rant Maya looked toward the dimly lit parking lot adjacent to her hotel and she pointed to the kids kicking a soccer ball and asked me to take a look at them.

 

“Cole, those kids wake up every day to this city, to poverty. They don’t know any different. Yet look at them. They still play. They still dream. They still imagine. But their dreams, their imaginations, have limitations, restrictions.”

 

“They don’t get to go on family vacations and see the places you’ve seen. Their minds don’t even allow for them to dream of the places that you’ve lived because they can’t fathom them. If you bail on this trip, if you turn around and go back to where it’s easy, where it’s normal, to where you’re supposed to be…well, then you’re not only a coward, but you’re a phony.”

 

“And everything you’ve ever written in that brown journal is bullshit. And that’d make you just like everyone else and I don’t think that’s you. You’re different Cole. You’re unique.”

Maya then clasped my hands and as her eyes watered so did mine. “Cole, you talk about living the dream. Well, you’re halfway there…what would your grandfather want you to do?”

 

And as I turned toward the ocean to attempt to rid that crater size lump in my throat that was forcing water in my tear ducts, Maya took out her pen, wrote her information on a page in my journal, and said, “Why don’t you meet me in Machu Picchu?”

As the sun began to rise at our backs on that morning Maya gave me a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and then flashed that striking smile once more before she turned and walked toward her hotel.

And yes, after about 15 meters she turned and looked back… and smiled.

And yes, after about 15 seconds after that I looked forward…and toward Cape Horn…and smiled.

 

More later.  Lots to think about.

 

Cole

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Holidays to all of you!  Even though I’m “on my own” during this holiday season, I have managed to meet some great people and have had some amazing conversations and experiences with them.  What more could I ask for? 

 

I have to finish this cool story that I’ve been posting about . . .

 

After hearing my long story about Gramps, Maya and I finally sat down on the beach and watched the wave’s crash against the shore. They were uncommonly loud this particular evening.

 

Maya was captured by the story and stated the obvious, “So your grandfather sailed around Cape Horn and that’s why you are attempting to do the same, right?”

 

Not exactly. Thus, I then had to explain that there was more to the Cape than just his story at the dinner table.

 

As my grandfather completed his trip around Cabos de Hornos, he contacted his wife from Puerto Williams, the largest port city near Cape Horn. When he called her she told him that she was 8 months pregnant and was having difficulties. Angry that she never told him, but understanding that he had to quickly get home, Gramps got on the next flight out of Chile.

 

When he landed in our hometown 36 hours later he arrived to Clare in labor. Their child, my Dad, was successfully born, but Clare’s health was in danger.

 

There were a large amount of complications due to her pregnancy and as you may have imagined, she passed away two days after achieving her lifelong dream of having a child.

 

Gramps was not exactly the world’s greatest father as he was relatively clueless when it came to how to raise a kid and he buried himself in his job of running his and Clare’s Bed and Breakfast. So he raised his son in a strict mode and in a fashion where he never shared his stories from the sea. Thus, my Dad, who was a dreamer, never got to actualize those thoughts.

 

After telling Maya the back-story on my grandfather I felt some connection with her. Thankfully, she began to tell me about her career, family, and life back home in Cape Towne as it seemed as I was doing all of the talking. 

 

Off for now. 

Cole

As we walked along the silky, sandy beach directed by a moonlight that seemed as if it was painted by God’s hand himself, I told Maya that this trip began when I was a kid.

 

Not sure if any of you bloggers know, but my grandfather, William Tyler was 18 years old and broke while working on the docks of New York City when he fell in love with the sea. When he heard about the bombings on Pearl Harbor he felt compelled to join the Navy and fight in World War II.

 

After the war he returned home, met my grandmother, Clare, and tried to start a family. Unfortunately, they were initially unable to have children so Clare, who felt she was to blame for not being able to bear children, allowed her husband to leave for a year and chase his dream of sailing on the high seas.

 

Thus, he set sail upon The Albatross hoping for adventure and searching for answers and ultimate purpose in his life.

 

It’s kind of funny, but Gramps’ first step on the ship was a soft one that was full of weariness, curiosity, and excitement. But that excitement was quickly replaced with fear, motion sickness, and resentment toward some of his shipmates that I wrote about earlier.

 

His captain, Captain Brennan, was a 67 year old seaman and Navy veteran, who my Gramps admired and hated at the same time. Captain Brennan initially taught him how to tack, read the stars, and release his sails, he also taught him about the essence of living which prepared him for the most profound moment of his life.

 

As my Gramps sailed on he began to realize the reason he went on the trip was to learn, teach, and essentially live life as he made his way toward the “edge of the earth,” or Cape Horn.

 

His moment when he sailed around the infamous Cabos de Hornos is one that I can recount as he told me time and time again as a child.

 

I can practically picture him telling the story around the dinner table.

 

We would be sitting across from each other at a small, 4 person wooden table that sat next to a fireplace. My youthful eyes locked onto his and his elderly face daydreaming back to one of the greatest moments in his life. Every time he told it, the story remained the same, but each time my ears heard it the Goosebumps on my arms grew and the amount of sleep I got that evening shrunk.

 

He spoke of how he was outside on deck while the members of his crew who had rounded the Horn sat around a table like the one we were at. Their feet resting on the table as Whisky was being poured and jokes being told. This particular table was where one could sit only if you had rounded the upcoming continent.

 

Gramps would then take a sip of his Whisky, or at least I thought that was what he was drinking, swing his feet onto the table, and tell me what rounding Cape Horn truly meant.

 

“Captain Brennan walked to the bow and placed his hand on the headstay and spoke to me in a manner in which I can still recall every last word.”

 

And then he did so.

 

“William, this site is powerful and it is not for everyone. But those who can accept its powers, its history, must be clear in their thoughts. Meaning, you must comprehend that this sight is one that embodies dreams, life, love and danger. Dreams my son, are a must. If you are not dreaming, you are not living. If you are not living, you are not inspiring and impacting others. If you fail to love, you are stealing from society and raping your soul of what it has learned. And if you are afraid of danger, then well…you wouldn’t have stepped aboard…”

 

By this time I was not only hooked on his story, but envisioning myself at the bow of The Albatross.

He continued enacting Captain Brennan’s speech. “William, if there is anything Cape Horn proves it’s that life is about living, and to live, you must dream. So William, dare to be great and live your dream and let this moment remain in your heart forever.”

 

And like clockwork, a tear would drop from my grandfather’s eye and as I told Maya the initial reason why I was here, a tear dropped from mine.

So the girl eventually got off the phone and I booked my flight home via LA. Then, in obvious fashion, I went back to my bar stool and ordered a shot of grand marnier and a beer.

 

The bartender was a classic dude. Named Jaycen, he was an American who was living in Ecuador after bouncing around the states for the last few years. Said he wanted to see the world.

 

He poured the two of us a shot, we cheered to the holiday season, and just as I shot the few ounces of warm liqueur, I noticed a woman who was across the bar – it happened to be the same gal who was hogging the payphone. But when I saw her this time it was as if time stood still. Her beauty caught me off guard as I not only spilled half of the shot on my cheek, but coughed the other half up.

 

After watching me make an ass out of myself she was sure to ask me if I got to make my ever important phone call. From that point on a discussion ensued.

 

Her name was Maya, a freelance journalist working for the Associated Press out of South Africa. She basically has the coolest job in the world as she bounces from country to country searching for a good story. They range from the dangers in Columbia to the beauty of Machu Picchu and everything in-between.

 

After a while we realized that we would be on the same train headed to the airport on Christmas day. Maya, headed to Peru, and me, headed home.

 

At that moment Maya did the exact opposite of what most would ask. She wasn’t like the bartender, who asked “Why are you going home?”

 

Rather, Maya asked me “Why are you here?”

 

And as the sun began to set over the Ecuadorian sea, I ordered another shot of granma, paid my tab, and asked Maya if she wanted to go for a walk on the beach.

 

More later . . .

Cole

Back at the bar.  Some chick won’t get off the phone. She’s been on for practically an hour and I can’t understand a word she’s saying as she is speaking a mile a minute.  She can’t have as many issues as I do right now that’s for sure.

 

The Captain is giving us another day before we take off as Diego’s funeral is this afternoon. I don’t think I’ll be able to go.  I feel so guilty.  I haven’t seen anyone other than Isaac since the other day. Gonna try to get a flight out of here once this chica gets off the phone!

 

Cole

 At the bar . . . again, as I pretty much drowned my sorrows yesterday.  They have a computer in the corner that I managed to avoid using all day yesterday.  “No Posting Under the Influence!” was Connor’s advice before I left.  I think I pretty much said all I need to say in my last post to Adelaide.   Am trying to book a flight now, but the damn internet keeps crashing as I’m trying to book it. Lost my blackberry when I was running the other day in the streets. Gonna try the phone outside.

Cole