My Marijuana Experience
Several years ago, I took a semester off from college and hiked the Appalachian Trail. It was one of the most educational experiences of my life. Among countless life lessons, I learned that the stigma surrounding marijuana is outdated and rather silly.
I’d decided to hike south, so I headed up to Maine to begin my journey. Early summer found me buried in the New England forest on a stretch of trail known as the “100 Mile Wilderness”. For about that distance, you won’t find anything more civilized than an abandoned logging road. No houses. No businesses. No streetlights. As wild as you can find in the modern United States.
I was only a few days into my journey, but I’d already made some close friends. The trail has a way of bringing folks together quickly. Their names were Goose and Ace. Everyone hiking the AT goes by a nickname. I’ve a hunch this may have something to do with surrendering your usual identity in order to open yourself up to personal growth.
One morning, I woke up and began my day as usual. I got out of my sleeping bag, ate, swapped sleeping clothes for hiking duds, ate some more, packed up camp, ate some more, and began hiking. Did I mention we ate a lot? Hiking can burn up to 6,000 calories a day and it takes a lot of food to keep the gas gauge above “E”.
Ace, Goose, and I always left camp at the same time. We all hiked at different speeds, though, so we would naturally spread would during the day. Normally, the person in the lead would find a nice spot for lunch and wait for the other two to show up. We would have some food, swap any interesting information or stories we might have come across, then head on and repeat the process for the second part of the day.
On that particular day, however, I couldn’t find my friends at lunchtime. I was always at the back of the group, being the slowest hiker, but I began to feel concerned when one o’clock came and went without me running across my group. Then two o’clock . Then three o’clock.
As I was coming over a large rock outcropping, worried about my buddies, I ran into another hiker and we struck up a conversation. His trail name was Fruit Punch and he was hiking north, the opposite direction I was traveling. I was excited because he should have crossed paths with Goose and Ace. He told me, however, that he hadn’t seen anyone else all day.
This news only made me more concerned for their wellbeing. Fruit Punch noticed how stressed I was and asked if I would like to smoke a bowl with him. I thanked him, but explained that it wasn’t a great idea for me. I hadn’t smoked in a very long time, but I remembered how paranoid it would make me when I was in high school. I couldn’t afford to feel even more edgy.
Fruit Punch said that he understood exactly what I meant, but that I should give it another shot. He told me that I would might differently about it, being that I was older and more mature than the last version of me that had partaken. He didn’t pressure me at all, only explained his side. It was inviting and I decided to give it a try.
As we passed his bowl back and forth, standing atop the giant rock out cropping, Fruit Punch and I chatted about this and that. I’d assumed from his scruffy appearance that he was a bit of a vagrant. There are many people, on the fringes of society, that work only long enough to hike for a few months before their money runs out. Then they find another temporary job. There is nothing wrong with that lifestyle, but it turned out that I was wrong about my new friend. He was actually an engineer, focused on improving the design of the modern sailboat. I suppose I’d been under the impression that those using marijuana were often the degenerates of society. Standing in front of me, however, was an example of an intelligent, successful advocate of the plant.
After we finished up, I thanked Fruit Punch and headed off down the trail, moving south and hoping to find my friends. I remember feeling like I’d put on a pair of invisible earmuffs. The world around me grew quiet and I realized that, for the first time in hours, I was no longer stressed out. As I walked, the exercise dopamine mixed with the THC and calmed me down. Instead of a jumble of nervous thoughts rattling around in my head, there was peace.
I began to look around at the forest in a new way. The colors were richer. The smells were stronger. The sounds were more nuanced. I’d been traveling through the Maine woods for days but was only then experiencing them for the first time. My own thoughts and emotions had been in the way of becoming fully immersed in my environment.
For the next several hours, I strolled along and absorbed what the forest had to offer me. It was the beginning of an open-minded attitude that stuck with me for the rest of my seven-month journey. I wouldn’t have gotten nearly as much out of the experience without that gift from Fruit Punch.
Eventually, I decided to stop and make camp. An hour or so later, Goose and Ace caught up. They’d taken a spur trail in search of water and gotten lost. I welcomed them in with a fire and told them about my day. Goose asked how my knee was doing. I’d been complaining about it daily, as it had been stiffening and swelling from the strain of hiking fifteen to twenty miles a day.
I didn’t realize until Goose asked, but I hadn’t noticed any pain all day. I gave my knee a quick check and there was no inflammation to speak of. Goose told me that he’d heard of the anti-inflammatory properties of marijuana. My appreciation for the plant grew even more.
I continued to smoke for the rest of the trip. I found that there was a very strong sense of community amongst hikers and that many of them smoked. There was never any selfishness with marijuana. Those who had some shared with those lacking. There was no expectation of payment in any form, just a desire to socialize. I wasn’t used to such an open community, based on good will and friendship. I thoroughly enjoy it.
I’ve continued to smoke regularly since returning from that trip. Besides continuing to help with my joints and anxiety, I find that marijuana heightens my creative ability, a huge asset as I aspire to a career as an author. I will forever be grateful to Fruit Punch and the larger trail community for the valuable “green” lessons that they taught me.
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