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Sid McGregor

Long's Peak

Long's Peak

Long's Peak

It's been a week since I was on top of the world. 8-7-2010. However, before I get into the event's of that particular day – we have to go back a while. March 13, 1979 to be exact.

According to my mom, it was warm, sunny and clear in Colorado Springs that day. I don't remember that much about it, because well, I was being born. Three days later I was driven home in a blizzard – which most likely melted away shortly thereafter. It wouldn't be the fist time that there was a lot of snow around my birthday. The most memorable time happened in 1998 – I was in college and had a bunch of friends over to Mom's house in Joplin. It started snowing around noon that day – by the time everyone was at the house around 6 – it was evident that they we going to be staying the night. We all crashed on the floor and had a snowball fight the next day. It is a good memory.

Since '79, my grandparents have lived here in Colorado. We would visit here at least once a year – taking in the mountains and the clean air and so on. I remember the room that I slept in at my grandmother's old house. You could look out the window in the bedroom and just make out the top of Pike's Peak at night. I remember not sleeping well when I was here because I didn't want to miss a second. Staring at the mountains and embracing the atmosphere completely during the weeks we were here. Every now and then we would stay at my Grandfather's place up in Evergreen. He lived on the side of a mountain and had deer in his yard on a daily basis. This was fascinating to me for whatever reason.

Over the years my obsession with mountain didn't let up. I've always looked forward to spending time in Colorado – with my grandparents and uncle's and cousins and all that come's with that. The more time I spent here – the more I wanted to just be here. When my grandparents began getting ill – I almost moved out here just to be close to them before they went. I never did it. I didn't quite have what it took to to that back then. I do regret that I wasn't closer and didn't spend more time helping out and being just a part of their lives.

Fast forward to 2009 – 11 years after that memorable snowstorm. Tiffanie and I move here and live with Andrew and Melia for a time until we could get ourselves a place of our own. I'll never forget driving into Denver on November 2^nd. We got here just after the sun set, and the lights of the city were laid out like a large strand of christmas lights – welcoming me home. I was in the moving truck, Tiff was driving our vehicle – and I started screaming “Whoo Hoo” and crying. I couldn't believe I was here – and brought my life with me. I was finally permanently reunited with this place that I always claimed I was from - a deep sense of belonging washed over me.

My grandmother died two weeks later. I didn't get down to Colorado Springs to see her because we spent everything we had just getting here. I called her as I was turning north on 25 from Limon. She didn't answer, but I left her a message telling her I was here and staring at the sun setting behind Pike's Peak. I stopped a little while later at a rest stop and jumped in a big pile of snow in my sandals. I regretted it for about two seconds. The last time I spoke with her – we were laying out the plans for Thanksgiving. I really miss her.

The last picture taken of Grandmother - and the last time I saw her. About four weeks before she passed.

For the next six months I worked at a church out here – contract position doing Audio Tech stuff. It was a miserable experience – but one that I learned from greatly. I didn't want to work at a church – but it seemed like the thing to do. It was a blessing in that I met some great people and my bills got paid and I learned a lot about myself. I wouldn't trade the experience, but I wouldn't want to do it again. Since June I've been unemployed. Finances are tight and tensions are high while I seek employment.

Everything you've just read wasn't on my mind last week. I was just climbing a mountain. Here's what happened that day.

I stayed at Andrew's that night. Tanner, Andrew and myself left his house around 3am and headed out. We arrived at the ranger station about an hour later and hit the trail head at 4:15am. It was cold – and dark. We signed the sheet at the booth and headed up the trail. About ½ a mile later – I was shedding layers. It wasn't any warmer – but we were working hard getting through the trees. Up up and up we went for the next hour until the sun was rising in the east.

As we were leaving the treeline – the sun was just about to break the horizon. I've never seen the sun from that angle (except in a plane – but those window's are so stupid small). Let me tell you -sunrise at 11,000 feet -highly recommended. The horizon was bursting in a deep red that faded to a dark blue and then black as you looked back west toward the peak. The moon was perfectly positioned right in the middle of the sky. I could of turned back there and been satisfied. There were several moments through out the next 12 hours that I wondered why we didn't just stop there – enjoy the sunrise – walk back, go to a Starbucks and enjoy some coffee and go back to bed.

We stopped around 6:30 for our first real break and met a guy who had done this hike 15 times. I think he's probably a little nuts – but then again. The first ½ of this hike is a bit daunting – it's just a really really long trail.

You don't feel like you're getting anywhere in particular until you reach the Boulder Field. And what is the Boulder Field, you may ask? Well it's just that – I field of boulders. Endless. Tiring. Remember those scenes in Lord of the Rings where Sam and Frodo are walking an walking over the rocks and they feel like they aren't getting anywhere – it's like that. In fact – from the boulder field to the peak – it was just like that.

When we reached the Boulder Field – we sat for 30 min or so. Andrew got out his little stove and cooked hotdogs. I ate one of my sandwiches and we just sat there for a while. The wind was whipping through there and it was cold – 45ish I would guess. From the field you can see what they call The Keyhole. It's the passage that you go through to get to the back side of Long's. From where we sat – it didn't look very far – but there was a bunch of boulders to climb over.

An hour after we left our resting place – we entered The Keyhole. The shoes I was wearing we not cooperating with my heels. I could tell that blisters had formed while climbing over the endless sea of huge rocks. I was getting miserable – but the view when you go through The Keyhole is breathtaking. It overlooks a huge green valley – with lakes and the whole works. It certainly helped with the mental state of mind. You suddenly felt like you had gotten somewhere. Also, The Keyhole puts you on the west side of the peak – so you are out of the sun. It was much cooler over there. After scrambling up the field, the cooler air was a relief. But as you may know – it's pretty dry in Colorado, especially at 13,000 ft, so your sweat dry's real fast and your body cools down. You have to keep moving.

Entering the Keyhole

About 100 yards later – I stopped and bummed some band-aids from Andrew (not the last time I would be bumming). I placed bandaids over my already popped blisters – hoping that it would prevent them from getting worse. I was worried about it and it weighed on my mind heavily. I knew that I would need my feet to get off this blasted rock (as I was calling it by then). By this time – I could tell that not only was I reaching my limit physically – but mentally as well. I was tired. We had been hiking for about 5 hours at this point, and it felt like the peak was no where in sight – and it wasn't. The next 2 ½ hours would nearly kill me.

Getting to the Boulder Field was to my ignorance – only ½ of the battle – if even that. From the field to The Keyhole to the peak would prove to be the hardest thing I have ever done mentally and physically. Getting to the Boulder Field was a walk in the park. But I wasn't prepared for this. I was just here to enjoy the day and go on a nice hike.

After patching up my feet – there was about a 300 yard scramble over and around – up and down more boulders. All you could see are just huge boulders with little bulls-eyes painted on one of them every 50 yards or so just to give you something to aim for. Otherwise – it would just be a big guessing game and you could easily end up too high or low and wind up climbing more than you needed – which at this point – every step mattered.

At the end of this scramble was the most impossible looking thing I've ever seen. They call it The Trough. It's a 600' climb -almost straight up. I made it up ½ way and stopped. I was done. I was more than done. My feet were killing me – I couldn't breathe – I was hungry – I was thirsty. I sat down – ate my second and last sandwich. I was out of food – but had plenty of water. I finished off my fist bottle while sitting here. The view was amazing. I could still see the valley and was honestly quite content sitting there. The wind was blocked and it was just comfortable. The only problem was people kept passing me and going on up. After about 20 min I decided that I would give it one last push. The top couldn't be far from here.

It took me the better part of an hour to climb the remaining 300'. It was grueling. I was exhausted. Famished. Done.

At the top of the Trough, you enter what they call The Narrows. The Narrows isn't a place for those afraid of heights. Luckily for me – I'm not, so it wasn't a big deal. The Narrows was probably my favorite part of the hike. The Narrows is passageway along a ridge that you can imagine is – narrow. Though it is not as narrow as it had been described to me – it was tight. The drop off to the right was steep. You didn't want to fall. You wouldn't stop. But if you aren't afraid of heights, then you don't really think about that – and you look past the drop off and see another huge valley with lot's of mountains surrounding it. It is beautiful.

At the end of The Narrows – I almost turned back. The Narrows wasn't the end. The Homestretch is the end. And while The Homestretch by itself isn't so bad – after the Boulder Filed and the Trough – The Homestretch looked anything like home. A 300' , class 3 climb. The last 300' I climbed took me over an hour. I didn't have an hour left in me. I took my pack off –sat down - got some water and just stared at this thing – thinking to myself...what the hell am I doing up here?

I was also alone. When I stopped at the Trough – Andrew and Tenner kept on. I saw them reach the top and I thought to myself – 'well isn't that nice.' As I was staring at The Homestretch – I couldn't see them and wasn't sure if this was the end – or another false peak. If it was another false peak – I was going to kill someone. Then again – I didn't really want to go up there anyway. I was done.

However - I said to myself, I've made it this far – if that's the peak, I better get up there. My heels didn't hurt anymore – the bandaids had done their job. But my legs were rubber and my spirit was shot. This was ridiculous. I began contemplating why humans see the need to conquer stuff like this. Is it a cocky american thing? I mean who first looked at a mountain and said – “let's walk up there?” What a moron. Yet – here I was about to join the club of morons who got up at 2 am and hiked a mountain – 7 miles one way. I wasn't even thinking about going back at this point. I figured there was zip line or a helicopter at the top. No one actually walked back, right?

About ½ way up The Homestretch – I sat down. My head was aching – I was out of food – I was pushing too hard. I was not being smart. I wasn't going to make it. I had come so close. I couldn't move. I was done. Again – but for good this time. I was ready to go down. I took my coat and my hat off. I put sunscreen on my head and just sat there for a bit. For some reason I stood up – put my pack back on and looked up. I was close. I have no idea why I did this.

“SID!!” someone yelled from the top. I looked around – didn't see anyone. “SID!!” they yelled again. I finally spotted the yellow coat that Andrew was sporting. “THIS IS IT – YOU'RE ALMOST THERE!”.

I grabbed a rock and pulled myself up.

A few steps later – I see Tanner emerge from the top and he scrambles down to meet me. Encouraging me and just being there. I was too tired to even speak. My head was pounding a little harder – the air was so thin as was my strength.

As I took the last few steps up the rocks – Andrew was taking pictures. I had about five steps left. With each step – all of the previous stories started to hit me like a brick wall. Andrew was walking toward me and I was about to have an emotional breakdown. Andrew grabbed me and hugged me – knowing that it was no small thing that I made it up there. I started weeping quietly. I had sunglasses on – and couldn't tell if he knew – but I was shaking – I almost fell to my knees the emotion was so heavy and hard hitting. It felt a bit like heaven honestly. (at least I hope). I had made it. Through all of the crap that that mountain threw at me – I made it. I conquered that beast.

I was in shock that I was on top. I bummed some food from Andrew and drank a lot of water. I didn't even care about the view at that point. In fact – it's been a week, and I can't even tell you what it looked like up there. I didn't care. I made it – what else could be as epic as that? Not much in my mind. What else could be as epic as my journey to the top of that mountain. It wasn't just 7 miles and 7½ hours. It was a lifetime. It took me 31 years to get to the top of that mountain and it was not always a pleasant journey. But in the end – you forget about all that and are just so excited to have made it that the details wash away – and you just embrace the sensation that you made it to the top – there is no where else to go. This is the end – and what a good end.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a helicopter or a zip line. We had to walk back. It took me 5 ½ hours to get back to the car. Climbing back down was just long and uneventful until the last mile. I was surprisingly strong coming down. I kept up with Andrew and Tanner and didn't feel the need to rest much. When we reached the treeline – my left knee started feeling a little weak. The bottom of my right foot felt bruised because I was favoring it – and when you're coming down all your weight hits your feet at a pretty constant pace. The last mile of the was down – I was hobbling. Andrew and Tanner beat me by 30 min. I couldn't move my left knee. People I had passed 30 min prior were passing me. It took me almost an hour to walk the last mile. It was ridiculous.

As I rounded the last turn – Andrew was there with his camera taking pictures. I looked totally trampled. But I was alive. I was alive – I made it. How did I do that? What great force carried me to get to the top and back again? I didn't know I had that much will power. I didn't know that I was physically capable of doing that. I'm not saying I could of gone farther – but I made it.

So – thats my story of Long's Peak. I left that morning with only the expatiation of hiking a mountain and coming down with some good pictures. I was so exhausted – I only took about 20 pictures. Like someone said who was at the top – if you want to see what it looked like – climb your own ass up there and take a look...or just google it.

I'm sitting here in my apartment in Longmont, CO. enjoying the dry air and the breeze. I'm on the third floor. There is a door in our bedroom that opens up to our balcony which faces west – towards the mountains. We sleep with it open partially because the night air is cool and provides great sleeping weather – even in August and partly because it remind me of my grandmother's window - the first thing I see in the morning is the sun rising on the mountains. I am home – but this journey is just beginning. The difference between last week and this week is that now I know that I just might have what it takes to push on through and make it after all.

Video highlight: http://vimeo.com/14148184

Long's Peak from Postmay Films on Vimeo.

Can you hear me?

I suppose a lot of people spend a good deal of time trying to figure out if they can hear the voice of God. Most people hear it in one way or the other, few audibly. Usually through some sign or event or circumstance...etc,. The problem isn't hearing it, or knowing that it's there...the problem it seems is in the interpretation. Once the voice is heard it is usually followed by some nature of instruction or guidance...and then the real question begins. What then shall I do? What type of action or duty am I to perform because of what I've perceived that God said to me? What am I supposed to change? I suppose as I get older and supposedly wiser, I don't end up with more answers, just more questions. I understand certain things more, and things that I understood to be certain leave me with more questions. Putting aside personal desires and aspirations for something unknown, even sometimes for something known seems to be a difficult thing to let go of. Dreams are personal. Passions are...well, passions. You don't put them aside lightly. I've spent the last 10 years believing that my passions and my desires are an intricate part of what I believe to be exactly the voice and will of God. He's confirmed many of those voices recently and it's amazing to see what happens when you are living and following the path of life that seems laid out for you. So what happens when that path seems to either be ending or taking a different direction totally? Surrender? Now that's a scary word. Can I really give all that up to do something else...is that voice still in me, the same voice I heard as a child? It's a simple word that I hear, only one actually..."go". I wonder if I've been drowning out the voice this whole time or if he's been leading me down the path of preparation and still asking, Can you hear me?

A Year Later...

Can't believe it's been almost a year since my last 'blog'. I keep a small journal that I hand write and I usually revert to that because I spend so much time on the computer in a normal day...spending more time just isn't as appealing.

So much has happened this year. I don't even know how to express 1/2 of it. I live in Colorado now, and it's truly fascinating. The last year of my life as has been rather epic and hard to comprehend all that has happened. (Guess I've said that twice now).

I'm going to post something in the next few days, probably tomorrow. But, I only know of two people who even check this...maybe if I wrote more.

Flying and Running.

April 5, 2009. Managua to Springfield.

What to say about a day spent at in airports? We left Managua at 8am (9am CST), and arrived in Atlanta at 1:30ish EST. We thought we had time, but we were wrong. Customs was ridiculous! We waited forever for our luggage and by the time we went through the line and got to our terminal, it was almost 3. Our flight was supposed to leave at 3:02. Needless to say we were running.

Well, as usual when you are running late to these things…once you get to the gate, they announce that their will be a slight delay due to overbooking. Well, we left about 15 min late and arrived in Springfield at 4:20. I said goodbye to Ryan and headed out into the cold without a coat mind you.

Tif picked me up and we headed home. It was nice to be home. She did very well with the clean house and the shampooed carpets and washed dogs. She made it very welcoming to be home.

We sat on the couch, looked at pictures, I told some stories. Then it was off to financial peace university with Dave Ramsey. It struck me then that I was on a very whirlwind day; I woke up in Nicaragua, took a shower, admired the lizards that were on the outside of the glass as they were every morning, walked to breakfast, had some fruit and coco puffs (naturally) and then I was ready to go. Eight hours later I was sitting 2,000 miles away in my church, watching a video about how to achieve financial peace. What a weird day. Now I’m sitting on my couch, wifi going strong and I’m writing this here blog. How small the world seems sometimes.

Like I said…not much to say about a day spent in airports. You fly. You run. You fly some more.

Leaving.

April 4, 2009. Managua, Nicaragua.

Today was the odd day of the trip. Ryan, myself, Clarence (one of our translators) and Erika (she heads up Rainbows scholarship program) drove up to Estili, which for all of you cigar enthusiasts out there is where most of the handmade Nicaraguan cigars are made. Rainbow supports a couple of children who attend a school for the blind there. We met the people who run the school and two of the students that they sponsor and drove back. It’s about a two ½ hour drive one way, so there was time to kill.

Most of the road was the same road that Ryan and I drove yesterday, so as far as filming much scenery, I already had it. So, having fresh in my mind the lack of connecting I’ve been able to do on this trip (with Nicaraguan’s that is) I decided to play 20 questions. Well, really I just played ask questions and get people talking until we get home. Here’s the trick, Clarence speaks English, Erika does not…so Clarence had to repeat everything everybody said, including himself! I felt sorry for him. But we seriously had a great conversation about Nicaraguan culture and the work of Rainbow and the future and so on. Some questions were silly, some were serious. It was a truly fun conversation to have, and the element of being able to communicate effectively with someone who doesn’t even speak the same language was amazing.

So after we arrived back to the hotel, Clarence and Erika said their goodbyes and went to get a taxi. All day Ryan and I had apologized to them for having them work on their day off, and we both felt bad about it. I had been thinking that it would be a good gesture for us to buy them lunch, so I ran out to them and asked them if was ok to feed them lunch. I said I would feel better if they would let me. Naturally, they did…who turns down a free lunch? So the four of us headed over the airport (which is across the street) because the airport has a food court that is open to the public and it’s cheaper than the hotel restaurant. We all ate at a place called Tip Top, it’s like KFC. Our conversation continued there, but it was defiantly more humorous and not serious, just plain relationship building, ordinary conversation. Who knew a normal conversation could be so much fun?

This evening was a bit different. We interviewed Keith here at the hotel. This is his last trip as president. He officially steps down in two weeks. He said today was good, tomorrow will be very emotional for him. He is cleaning out his office and taking some stuff home that he’s had down here for 14 years! I can’t imagine.

It’s been an interesting trip. I can’t say that I recommend being the camera man, audio man, director, producer all at the same time. It’s really not very effective. I know I got the job done, but I would have done it better with help. There is always next time.

For those of you who have traveled much, the last day in a country is always a hard one. You want to leave, but you don’t. You feel like you’ve learned so much, yet you know you don’t really know very much. There are so many things you are glad you did, and so many things you wish you would have done. There is so much work to be done here, and you know that you are going to go home and distance yourself from what you’ve experienced. You know that there is no way to describe your experience to anybody, and you almost fear that conversation, yet at the moment you can’t think of anything else to talk about. You’ve been immersed in a culture and tomorrow you will step into an airport and leave that culture and that mindset literally at the door. Yet, when you get home and get off the airplane and step out of the doors of a different airport part of you really wishes that part of that culture and atmosphere will meet you there…and it doesn’t. The brain flips out. Some of us control it better because we are veterans and we’ve become numb.

You feel very rich when you are here, yet when you get home, you don’t feel it anymore. You feel very poor and somehow less ‘real’ than when you left (at least those us who by American standards are actually poor). I can’t imagine what someone who is rich feels like. Probably a bit like shit, but that would all depend on their nature and how they use their wealth. I’m not trying to belittle the rich; I plan to be one of them. I am merely stating that I think it might be harder for them in some ways to see their wealth against the backdrop of people who live in a mud hut. The difference between them and me is that they are more likely in a position to help than I am. This is where I feel like shit…there, now we are all even and feeling the same way.

There is a great story happening here. Furthermore, there are great stories happening everywhere. Look for them. Let them inspire you to change you. Be a part of the story, your page is waiting for you to pick up ink and write something.

The other side of the lens.

April 3rd, 2008. Managua, Nicaragua.

First things first…the air conditioner worked, so I slept. Sleeping is such a nice thing to do after you’ve been up all day and not slept the night before. Next on the agenda…breakfast. I didn’t care if I didn’t sleep I was going to get up no matter what. I didn’t eat coco puffs though.

Rainbow Network has purchased new land just a few blocks from the hotel we are staying at in Managua. We went there this morning to film Keith talking about the plans for the land and what it means for the future. It’s a really large piece of land that they got for dirt cheap. In their dreams, they hope not just to build a better head office here, but also a warehouse and possibly a medical clinic. But the really cool thing that they are hoping works out…it turning the land into a NGO hub. They are hoping to partner with several other NGO’s who are looking for a safe place to build an office. Having several of them have offices together could be a really powerful network of allies.

From here Ryan and I headed to the mountains. Our final destination was an area known as St. Ramon, which is just past the city of Magaulpa. Our agenda was to hook up with the director of the office in St. Ramon, Mary Luz. She took us to two different communities, El Paraíso and La Grezia. The reason for this trip was to show Rainbow supporters a different flavor of Nicaragua. This is a very rural area with some very intense poverty situations.

We met one lady who’s family of 18 lives with her in her house. The house was the same size, if not a bit smaller than my hotel room. So, her children, grandchildren and other relatives all lived there. As far as locations go, the house was set in an immaculate setting. Very green, lots of trees and plants and flowers but the house itself was one of the worst I’ve seen here. Dirt floor, obviously, walls made of thin pieces of wood tied together to form a structure, and a mixture of mud and wood pieces to form the walls, and naturally a tin roof. The tin roof had enough small holes in it that it looked like someone was punching out star constellations all over the roof.

One of the major physical/health related issue that faces the people who live in the rural areas in these conditions are respiratory problems. Most of the families cook inside the house over an open flame. They use wood to fuel the fire, as opposed to using coal which is standard in other parts of the developing world. Smoke fills the houses because as you can imagine, there is no proper ventilation for the smoke to escape. After being in one of these houses you quickly understand the respiratory issues.

One of the major problems with filming documentary style, especially if you are the cameraman, director, cinematographer, and audio person all at once is that you don’t really interact with those you are filming. There are other people with me doing the interaction and I am looking through the lens, which for those of you who aren’t experienced in that way…for an artist looking through a lens, you kind of get sucked in to the screen/viewfinder, and reality slips away. You are more concerned with your framing that with the people. It’s a major downside to the job. So, I decided today that I wanted to interact a little bit. After I had filmed everything I thought we needed, I would had the camera over to Ryan and simply walk around the houses again, without the video camera and actually see what I had filmed. I know it sounds weird and a bit shallow, but it’s not, it’s just the job.

Because of this choice, I had my favorite moment of the trip so far. As I was walking back through, there was a young girl cooking in the kitchen. I took a few pictures of her and quickly called for our translator, Hiro, to come and help me speak to the girl. I asked her what she was making…she was making a tortilla. I figured as much, and told her that I had seen people in Kenya and Jamaica make similar food and that I thought that it looked good. She laughed quietly, gave me a great smile, and blushed in the way that really humble people do when you try to pay them a compliment. It was a beautiful moment.

To most people who haven’t experienced the developing world, they will have a hard time grasping what I have said and what I’m about to say. I can not tell you how I longed to get to a place that was more ‘slum like’ and very very poor. I love to go to those places. Not because I love their conditions, but because I fall in love with the people who have survived those conditions and still have their honor and dignity. It’s a reality check if you will. It shows you, if you are paying attention, a little bit of what life is all about.

Jesus says that the poor will always be among us. I’m not God, so I can’t tell you why exactly this is and why he doesn’t just rip poverty away from us forever, but I have a few theories. One that is most dominant in my thought process is simply that the poor and poverty stricken people of this world really resemble the face and the love of Christ in so many ways, that I think that they are around so that we can see the face of God and be humbled. Not guilty, but challenged and inspired to do something. The poor people in the developing world are a very resilient and determined people. They are not stupid or lazy. If they were, they’d all be dead already.

But they are not. And they survive.