Chapter One
Exile - Pilgrim
The first thing I notice about Tyle is that he can squat
on his haunches Third World-style, indefinitely. He
is a giant, an anachronistic Thor in rasta drag, barechested,
barefoot, desert-baked golden. A month of
wandering the Mexican wasteland has tumbled me into
his lone camp warded by cacti. Rising from the makeshift pavilion
staked against the camper top of his pickup, he moves to meet me
with an idle power I envy. I see the wind has carved leathery lines into
his legend-hewn face of fjords and right angles.
In a dry, earthen voice, he asks me, "Looking for the hot spring?"
"Yeah, Agua Caliente. Am I even close?"
"Sure. This is the place. Up the way a couple hundred yards."
"Amazing! I found it!"
He smiles, suddenly very charismatic, and shakes his head of long
matty blond hair. "How you got here on that bike is amazing."
I had been pedaling and pushing through the forlorn land, roaming
the foreign coast o ... read full excerpt from: Catfish and Mandala ebook
