On the Other Side: Osiel
“Do you believe in a love at first sight? Yes. I’m certain that it happens all the time.”
When I walked into the tour agency the next morning, after missing the hike the day prior, and having a “back to self” moment, I was refreshed with a newfound goal to release control and go where my heart takes me. The guide was chatting with another couple who had arrived before the rest of the group got there. I sat down next to my pre-prepared gear and waited for him to finish his conversation and tell me what to do.
I was in a cheery mood for the early hours of morning. The energy that exists at the beginning of an adventure lingered on the slowly ascending darkness of dawn. Augustine, the agency’s owner, picked me up from my hostel, along with two other people, in his utility truck and I immediately relaxed. He was playing Argentinian rock and drinking mate. His hair was awry and he wore a knitted brown vest over his long sleeve shirt. I knew I was in good company.
I had only seen the side of the guides face, some facial hair, a wooden earring, a baseball cap shadowing his face. When he stopped talking to the couple he turned around fully to face me. We locked eyes for a moment and there was a steady buzzing in my stomach. The room seemed to brighten and every other noise faded into the background. He paused for a second before continuing and his tone grew softer when he began to speak again.
“I’m your guide, Osiel.” He reached out his hand to me.
His eyes were warm and honest, his hands belonged to a mountaineer, large and rugged. I wanted to know everything about him.
The ascent to the highest point people are allowed to climb on Viliarica, Pucón’s active volcano, takes about 3-5 hours depending on the pace of the group. Our pace was a bit slower. An opportunity to try another hand at the whole patience thing once more. I know I need it desperately.
The time seemed to pass just as it should and I found it fairly easy to have patience. I was taking in the magic of the rugged natural beauty I had found myself in; reveling at our place above the clouds, the snowy peaks of the countless mountaintops and volcanoes surrounding Pucón peeking out from the feathery sheets, the succulents and tiny life forms growing from lava rock, the plume of smoke steadily rising from the summit ahead of us. It was easy to lose myself in the beat of the ascent, especially in the snow with the crunch under each shuffled step. But, something else was happening. I could feel myself being drawn to him.
For the first part of the climb, I was following directly behind him. We got to chatting and before long, found ourselves too far ahead of the rest of the group and the other guide. From then on, he led the pack and I was at the end with Leo, his partner for the day and another tenacious mountain guide. If I stayed with him in the front, our pace would not have matched everyone else’s. Each time we paused, I found myself trying to be near him, except, it was subtle. I can best describe it as a humming, like something inside of me grew jubilant when he was next to me and then settled effortlessly again when we parted.
We reached the highest point after about 5 hours of slow climbing and feasted on the remainder of the snacks we each packed for the day. The fog settled in around us and a cold wind blew through our huddled picnic. Sledding down the side of a volcano was less terrifying than it sounds. The guides have created a sort of “luge” that travels in a snaked shape down the slope. I felt that giddy joy of a little kid sledding for the first time as we cruised back down the mountainside.
Once we reached a lower altitude, the snow vanished returning us back to the lava rock. The fog cleared to reveal the multitude of cobalt-blue lakes and the lush green valley of Pucón. The bright orange ski lift moved slowly up and down the mountain. We stopped for a beer at the ski lodge, now reserved for hikers in the summer season. The group sat down at a table and I wandered over to a lookout spot. I stood with my arms resting on the wooden railing. Osiel walked up next to me and began pointing out all of the sights I was seeing,
“That is Villarica lake, over there is Quetrupillan volcano, there is the most beautiful beach in Pucón to watch the sunset.”
As he spoke I looked to each spot, but my eyes were drawn back to him, and all I could think about was how I would like to go to that beach with him. With the hard part of the journey complete, we picked up the pace down to the van. Osiel and I, again, trailed ahead. A hot breeze moved through the Araucana trees, a trail of dust fluttered, birds chirped, and there it was once more. The humming. I found myself speaking whatever came to my mind. I had no fears with him. When he finally mentioned doing something together, I was reassured, although I had known it already, “You didn’t make this up in your head. This is not one sided.”
We went for dinner that evening. He took me to try a Chilean local dish-Pastel De Choclo at a market run by the native people of South-Central Chile, The Mapuche. We sat side by side, laughing, sharing stories, trying to practice my Spanish together. Time was no consequence. This led to a sunset at La Plata (the beach he had pointed at earlier from the lookout point) and a night at the base of the volcano staring up at the milky way and a thick blanket of stars as the orange glow of lava hovered over Villarica.
What was supposed to be a few days in Pucón turned out to be almost ten days. I knew there was something there for me. My heart longed for a place I thought only existed in my dreams. I found it there with him, but not because of him. I can’t explain it any other way. These days with him were truly breathtaking. He took me everywhere. From scaling Via Ferrata, to ice climbing Mirador Glacier, to swimming in the crystalline water of Caburgua, to enjoying an evening with his co-workers on the riverside. He opened his home to me, shared his life with me and (I am not saying this for the storyline) I really, truly believe I fell in love with him in just a few precious days.
I was sad to leave this person who has shown me such kindness, and this place that has wrapped me tenderly in it’s embrace.
Osiel has taught me patience, has taught me dedication to what we love, and a deep level of caring for others. He is soft when the world has been unkind to him, when it would be easy for him to be hard. He has found solstice in the mountains, in the steady rhythm of the ascent. He is fearless, but never rash when it comes to nature. He understands the unpredictability, of the volcano, of the earth, yet he continues to climb. He is tender down to his bones, nurturing to everyone and everything from his dogs to his garden to his friends. He is confidant, yet he does not boast, capable and daring, yet patient and supportive towards those less skilled than him. I could go on about this man and I will for years to come.
My heart was heavy leaving Pucón, in the best way. It grounded me, stretched me, and cracked my heart wide open. And this person. This person, no matter whether or not we meet again, is who I will cling to whenever I start to doubt that deep, soul-level connection is out there and remember that when I find it, I must say yes to it no matter how hard it is to let it go when the time comes.
As the bus rounded the corner from the station in Pucón and the pink light of the morning grew brighter, I listened to music and the tears grew thick. Saying goodbye to this person who I’ve become so fond of in just a matter of days seemed, in the moment, the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I knew I would one day look back on it with softness and understand that I have done and will do much harder things, that in a world filled with suffering, this aching was miniscule. I wanted to turn around immediately, to run back to him, to stay, maybe forever.
In the last few days, I’ve realized hard and fast that what I’ve held onto for all of my life truly exists. There is a type of love that is not dictated by language or place or time or appearance. One that begins with a steady humming of the air and a glint caught in an eye and continues with a soft, unspoken knowing. That shows you a world you never thought it was possible to see. In just one week, I lived a lifetime with Osiel. Held and holding, falling, flying, grounded with him, but not tethered to him. Despite the fist clenching in my heart leaving him and leaving Pucón, I can’t help but think, “How beautiful.” How wonderful, that on the other side of fear and loneliness, I found deep connection, exploration, and an opportunity to know a soul who touched my own profoundly.
