The second day was a lovely sunny September Saturday, kids running, playing in the trees and on the mini hills surrounding the camp area, riding motorized and pedal bikes. Some kids were on quads and driven by their parents, friends, or parent’s friends, and some adults rode alone and went along with the kids trail riding throughout the many paths in the woods. Some of us adults stayed back and cleaned, swept, picked up the garbage and cans—just kidding—we just sat around bull shitting, smoking weed, drinking, and adding fuel like dried spruce and birch trees to the ferocious hungry fire.
Some unrecognizable older-looking people looked older than my girlfriend and me by about a decade or so. I was 33 and my much older, but none, the wiser girlfriend, is 36 years young. They came with a couple of big newer-looking trailers and set up a couple of 4-man tents. They sectioned off their own little space tucked away in the corner of our massive camp space.
That evening was met with a friendly, clear star-filled night with the only light pollution of what the fire was giving off, but if you go far enough deep into the woods, it is a spectacular display of twinkling stars and curious universes. The majority of the campers were gathered around the fire as most more minor children and babies laid their tired heads to sleep. My new friend I made the day before we got there, the smaller one when we got there, with whom I shared that joint and bong tokes. He was the first person I spoke with upon arrival.
He was cooking up a batch of about somewhere in the neighbourhood of 7 to 10 grams of psilocybin mushroom tea or magic mushroom tea over the fire as the water boiled as the psilocybin creeped out of the mushrooms forming this mysterious brew. Oddly enough, he made it in this cast iron mini cauldron-looking thing, and it sat right in the middle of the fire like we were witches in the 14th century about to sacrifice babies. I would say about 12 of us indulged in this strange tea. Its taste was odd, and it struck the tastebuds with a bitter death kind of taste.
It was about half an hour or so into the trip when it started to hit, and I noticed it hitting others and their wavey-like being melded into the picturesque scenery. Some small groups thought it would be a great idea to go for a walk in the woods, and like the sheeple, they were other groups began to take their separate paths in the magic forest seen with new eyes was quite inviting. I kept my cool even though my mind began to open as the two hemispheres’ started to merge, breaking down the unconscious barriers, melding together with the current consciousness in a soup of exploration and wondering.
I was having flashbacks from about 7 years prior when my best friend, his two older brothers and his dad took a helicopter out to the middle of these mountains on the Alberta/British Columbia border. We went for a week, and about the 3rd night, we all except the dad took mushrooms tea in the middle of nowhere with us being the only souls besides those who died and the animals amongst the heavily dense boreal forest.
We were in the height of tripping, and my best friend’s oldest brother and I went for a long walk deep into the forest. We were literally surrounded by mountains that were a couple of hundred feet away each. We were walking down some path, I’m sure we were lost, and we came upon a fresh kill of a massive deer or moose. I didn’t stick around long enough to check the horns. We could see the heat coming off of it in the near zero-degree weather at those high altitudes. We found our way back to the fire very quickly.
To be Continued.