TassieDevil
On Vacation
I was looking for something. Had to leave where I was, people are just people, but when those people are only there to screw with ya, it's time to go.
I'd met a guy who had a room to rent, I moved silently at 2am one morning out from one mess, and unmittinglly into another. It sounds bad, but was better this way.
I'd had enough of confrontation and didn't want the final one to come...would rather slip quietly into the night never to be seen again.
A small timber clad cottage at the end of a dirt road, the last house before national park. It would at least be peaceful here.
It didn't take long before i found out that he planned a grow, a big grow.
We started walking the tracks and trails through the national park, ease to get to, yet un-walked location, protection on one side usually the back in a shallow cave, north facing, all these were possible in a few area's but they were small, maybe 6-12 plants a space, and all were a little tricky to get water and nutrients to.
I came home to Neil grinning from ear to ear one afternoon, seems he'd found the spot.
We walked out the back door, along the grass to the edge of the bush. We were standing on a rock shelf, he then turned west following the shelf.
I followed silently, we had now walked some couple of hundred meters and was entering the neighbours backyard. The shelf stepped a few times, we were now walking below the ground level of the neighbours backyard, unseen.
You could see where Neil had been before, a little climb out of the shelf, and we were standing some 500m from the neighbours house, behind a tea tree thicket. Tea tree growth is long, spindly, thick and tangled, and can grow to 8 or 9 feet high.
Neil is looking at me grinning as I take in the view. Almost 1/4 acre of the lower 3/4 acre of the back yard was tea tree. A thicket 6' tall, rectangular, boardered by gums. We were standing at the bottom edge of a hanging swamp.
He then casts his hand out over the view gesturing gate positions, flow of human endevour, possible yields...His idea was to carve out the centre of the quarter acre of tea tree, leaving a 2' thick wall of tea tree surrounding a central court yard of green.
I was looking thinking, this is it, this is like the ultimate grow site, no fencing, close to home, fully protected from wallabies...
That was it, we walked back silently and planned the building timing and smoking of 1/4 acre of sinse.
It was nearing the end of Winter, we only had 4 weeks before the first day of spring, too early to plant, but...time was against us.
It took 2 weeks to clear 1/4 acre silently. Initially we were clearing ninja-like...night time commando gardeners dressed in black, bowsaw and and shears in hand.
Clearing finished, we then raped two mothers of almost all foliage to produce 120 clones over 2 days. It's disheartening to see a once healthy plant, stripped naked and boney.
The clones subsequently were small and needed time...time we didn't have, so the back room was now going to be converted to an indoor accelerator.
We disassembled half the lighting in the house and wired it all in the back room...candles are enough to pack and roll by.
Some new tubes of the right colour and the back room now was a death trap and a prison sentence. We survive the six weeks till the plant out, but, my internal tension was rising. We had almost 120 1' high plants with a chargeable street value of almost $40,000 in the back room, with a curtain across it, stinking the house out 24/7...
Neil was different. He liked to do things different. For the type of guy he presented as, you'd be forgiven if you got thrown by his next move.
"Ok, it's time..." in the dim flicker of a candle was the face of Neil staring down at me...
"What?"
"it's time to plant"...light disappears...it's dark again. I get my bearings...why the f r we...ok just get up..
Coffee is ready, Neil has everything ready to go. Seems 12am on a waning moon on this day...was the perfect time to plant.
The next 5 hours were silent, empty, processed, planned...it just went by...it's funny how when fully focussed on a task, the body can just take over whilst the mind just observes.
We started to see the sky lighten just enough to now be able to see the full scope of what had just been achieved.
Near a full 1/4 acre, some 100 plus 1' high plants now rested in their pre-dug, pre-fertisized holes. Neat rows, neat columns...everyone looking ever so perfect. It was done. We hurried back home, tired, excited, ever so pleased with ourselves.
It was easy from then on, mother nature did the work. You see a hanging swamp has a natural ebb and flow or rather rising and lowering of the water level.
Usually a hard rock layer formed in a valley or gutter that accumulates enough debris over enough time to then support a layer of sandy organic material and then larger colonising plants. After enough time you have a floating organic layer or swamp suspended precariously on top of a rock shelf with a flooding water table between.
So we took advantage of that by adding a foot of gravel to the bottom of the holes. Some of these did partially fill with water as we were digging.
We had a natural ebb and flow organic outdoor hydro monster.
We only watered during the worst of summer, the rest of the time there was more than enough.
We finished this season well. Most plants fully through. We lost a row, which in retrospect was right in the centre of the gutter of the swamp...it was too wet and they all drowned. But at rougly 12 ounces dry a plant, we had at the end almost 75 pounds of premium sinse. It was....intense.
The back room was now a drying room. Number 8 fencing wire strung wall to wall, inverted heads zip ties to the wire, layed on shelves, the floor, rotated, ventilated. The smell was intoxicating. It had moved from an amazing adventure to a endless chore. And the smell...we smoked the hash off our fingers, clipped, hung, rotated. Then we moved out into the hall more wire, more heads, bags and bags.
A few weeks later, we had a friend visit unannounced. We'd managed to keep everyone away from the house, and the smell for that time. Our cars out the front so I had to answer the door. We had been cleaning up, not yet finish but over it. All of the hung heads were now dry, and had been packed into storage tubs for initial curing, while we tried to figure out how to cure it all.
We both stunk, my disposable gloves had long since been filled with sweat and removed. I was growing pads of resin on my finger, and mildy tripping. The rumble of a V8 was getting closer. Damn we got company.
When I opened the door, Simon's eyes changed instantly.
"Damn, what the hell are you doing in here, man..."
"Simon, yeah sorry, look, um...I can't let you in an the moment, we're in the middle of something.."
"I got that mate, what ya doing?" he starts moving closer to the door, Im solid in the door way, he almost bumps into me.
"Oh" he backs off "Ok then, um look I was just gunna see if I could.."
"I'll give you a call in a couple of hours, you can come back then..." Im now just starting to get agitated, I didn't like that I was now compramising a friendship I had held
longer than that with Neil, but, I just couldn't let him in....there was stuff everywhere...I mean everywhere.
The next hours were an adrenaline fuelled panic. The house smelled, there were tubs of heads and wire everywhere. We were gunna have to dismantle everything and shif the tubs out into the shipping container.
Plastic tubs, summer. Someone was gunna have to burp the things every half hour to stop mold forming, that was gunna create movement...
We disassemble the drying area, leaf, theirs head leaf everywhere. Light more incence, open more windows, shift more tubs, now open doors as well.
We then had to decide what I was gunna tell Simon. We had 3 pounds on the table, with some ounce bags thrown in for good measure. The lounge smelled again, ok it seems plausible. I made the call.
He was eager...what would usually be a 1/2 hour wait for him to amble over, was now a 15 minute rush...the rumble of a HQ 253V8. Knock, knock, knock.
Smiling I opened the door. Internally I was on fire, he could see it. He paused, looked me in the eye and said,
"Hey...we've been friends a long time..."
He came in, eyed the table, looked at me and said,
"oh...so this is what it's all about"...he sniffed "oh that's not much to be nervous about"
He was right, of course, in my rush to have evidence and a story, I'd forgotten he already had evidence, the smell, the density of the smell, and at that moment I saw the viability of my story thin and weaken.
"Shit mate, I thought you musta had pounds and pounds for the smell that was in here..."
"Nah, just like when we used to grow mate, a few out back, you know...we were just finishing the dry and clean up, you know, it stinks."
"..and it's just that like it's not mine it's half Neils too, so it was a bit of a shock to see you at the door"
"Faarck mate, you were as white as a sheet....never seen you look so ill...." laughter...it broke it.
Neil sat down. Chopped, packed, passed.
It appeared we'd managed to pull it off. Simon bought an ounce, vowing that it was all sweet and his lips were sealed.
It's surprising how quickly you can move pot in quantity if you're a motivated seller. Price is the kicker, always. In 5 weeks we'd moved 70 pounds at $1000 a pound. Most of which just to people we knew. People who would usually purchase by the ounce, now found enough for a pound, and a damn near half what It usually sold for, they were often coming back for seconds.
It wasn't the intention to sell, not like this. A little here and there smoke till next season, that's what it was about. We both now felt compramised by Simon coming unannounced and wanted to be rid of it as fast as possible. He did say once he thought those few pound we had went quick, if only he new.
It left me with a hefty back pocket, weed for months, and an urge to get away. I was restless and needed time by myself, it just wasn't working for me around other people.
Out of one mess into another is where this began, now I just wanted to surf, be by myself a while. I said my goodbyes to Neil, left what was there, and left for good. I was driving up and down the coast looking for surf. It was late summer...
I'd met a guy who had a room to rent, I moved silently at 2am one morning out from one mess, and unmittinglly into another. It sounds bad, but was better this way.
I'd had enough of confrontation and didn't want the final one to come...would rather slip quietly into the night never to be seen again.
A small timber clad cottage at the end of a dirt road, the last house before national park. It would at least be peaceful here.
It didn't take long before i found out that he planned a grow, a big grow.
We started walking the tracks and trails through the national park, ease to get to, yet un-walked location, protection on one side usually the back in a shallow cave, north facing, all these were possible in a few area's but they were small, maybe 6-12 plants a space, and all were a little tricky to get water and nutrients to.
I came home to Neil grinning from ear to ear one afternoon, seems he'd found the spot.
We walked out the back door, along the grass to the edge of the bush. We were standing on a rock shelf, he then turned west following the shelf.
I followed silently, we had now walked some couple of hundred meters and was entering the neighbours backyard. The shelf stepped a few times, we were now walking below the ground level of the neighbours backyard, unseen.
You could see where Neil had been before, a little climb out of the shelf, and we were standing some 500m from the neighbours house, behind a tea tree thicket. Tea tree growth is long, spindly, thick and tangled, and can grow to 8 or 9 feet high.
Neil is looking at me grinning as I take in the view. Almost 1/4 acre of the lower 3/4 acre of the back yard was tea tree. A thicket 6' tall, rectangular, boardered by gums. We were standing at the bottom edge of a hanging swamp.
He then casts his hand out over the view gesturing gate positions, flow of human endevour, possible yields...His idea was to carve out the centre of the quarter acre of tea tree, leaving a 2' thick wall of tea tree surrounding a central court yard of green.
I was looking thinking, this is it, this is like the ultimate grow site, no fencing, close to home, fully protected from wallabies...
That was it, we walked back silently and planned the building timing and smoking of 1/4 acre of sinse.
It was nearing the end of Winter, we only had 4 weeks before the first day of spring, too early to plant, but...time was against us.
It took 2 weeks to clear 1/4 acre silently. Initially we were clearing ninja-like...night time commando gardeners dressed in black, bowsaw and and shears in hand.
Clearing finished, we then raped two mothers of almost all foliage to produce 120 clones over 2 days. It's disheartening to see a once healthy plant, stripped naked and boney.
The clones subsequently were small and needed time...time we didn't have, so the back room was now going to be converted to an indoor accelerator.
We disassembled half the lighting in the house and wired it all in the back room...candles are enough to pack and roll by.
Some new tubes of the right colour and the back room now was a death trap and a prison sentence. We survive the six weeks till the plant out, but, my internal tension was rising. We had almost 120 1' high plants with a chargeable street value of almost $40,000 in the back room, with a curtain across it, stinking the house out 24/7...
Neil was different. He liked to do things different. For the type of guy he presented as, you'd be forgiven if you got thrown by his next move.
"Ok, it's time..." in the dim flicker of a candle was the face of Neil staring down at me...
"What?"
"it's time to plant"...light disappears...it's dark again. I get my bearings...why the f r we...ok just get up..
Coffee is ready, Neil has everything ready to go. Seems 12am on a waning moon on this day...was the perfect time to plant.
The next 5 hours were silent, empty, processed, planned...it just went by...it's funny how when fully focussed on a task, the body can just take over whilst the mind just observes.
We started to see the sky lighten just enough to now be able to see the full scope of what had just been achieved.
Near a full 1/4 acre, some 100 plus 1' high plants now rested in their pre-dug, pre-fertisized holes. Neat rows, neat columns...everyone looking ever so perfect. It was done. We hurried back home, tired, excited, ever so pleased with ourselves.
It was easy from then on, mother nature did the work. You see a hanging swamp has a natural ebb and flow or rather rising and lowering of the water level.
Usually a hard rock layer formed in a valley or gutter that accumulates enough debris over enough time to then support a layer of sandy organic material and then larger colonising plants. After enough time you have a floating organic layer or swamp suspended precariously on top of a rock shelf with a flooding water table between.
So we took advantage of that by adding a foot of gravel to the bottom of the holes. Some of these did partially fill with water as we were digging.
We had a natural ebb and flow organic outdoor hydro monster.
We only watered during the worst of summer, the rest of the time there was more than enough.
We finished this season well. Most plants fully through. We lost a row, which in retrospect was right in the centre of the gutter of the swamp...it was too wet and they all drowned. But at rougly 12 ounces dry a plant, we had at the end almost 75 pounds of premium sinse. It was....intense.
The back room was now a drying room. Number 8 fencing wire strung wall to wall, inverted heads zip ties to the wire, layed on shelves, the floor, rotated, ventilated. The smell was intoxicating. It had moved from an amazing adventure to a endless chore. And the smell...we smoked the hash off our fingers, clipped, hung, rotated. Then we moved out into the hall more wire, more heads, bags and bags.
A few weeks later, we had a friend visit unannounced. We'd managed to keep everyone away from the house, and the smell for that time. Our cars out the front so I had to answer the door. We had been cleaning up, not yet finish but over it. All of the hung heads were now dry, and had been packed into storage tubs for initial curing, while we tried to figure out how to cure it all.
We both stunk, my disposable gloves had long since been filled with sweat and removed. I was growing pads of resin on my finger, and mildy tripping. The rumble of a V8 was getting closer. Damn we got company.
When I opened the door, Simon's eyes changed instantly.
"Damn, what the hell are you doing in here, man..."
"Simon, yeah sorry, look, um...I can't let you in an the moment, we're in the middle of something.."
"I got that mate, what ya doing?" he starts moving closer to the door, Im solid in the door way, he almost bumps into me.
"Oh" he backs off "Ok then, um look I was just gunna see if I could.."
"I'll give you a call in a couple of hours, you can come back then..." Im now just starting to get agitated, I didn't like that I was now compramising a friendship I had held
longer than that with Neil, but, I just couldn't let him in....there was stuff everywhere...I mean everywhere.
The next hours were an adrenaline fuelled panic. The house smelled, there were tubs of heads and wire everywhere. We were gunna have to dismantle everything and shif the tubs out into the shipping container.
Plastic tubs, summer. Someone was gunna have to burp the things every half hour to stop mold forming, that was gunna create movement...
We disassemble the drying area, leaf, theirs head leaf everywhere. Light more incence, open more windows, shift more tubs, now open doors as well.
We then had to decide what I was gunna tell Simon. We had 3 pounds on the table, with some ounce bags thrown in for good measure. The lounge smelled again, ok it seems plausible. I made the call.
He was eager...what would usually be a 1/2 hour wait for him to amble over, was now a 15 minute rush...the rumble of a HQ 253V8. Knock, knock, knock.
Smiling I opened the door. Internally I was on fire, he could see it. He paused, looked me in the eye and said,
"Hey...we've been friends a long time..."
He came in, eyed the table, looked at me and said,
"oh...so this is what it's all about"...he sniffed "oh that's not much to be nervous about"
He was right, of course, in my rush to have evidence and a story, I'd forgotten he already had evidence, the smell, the density of the smell, and at that moment I saw the viability of my story thin and weaken.
"Shit mate, I thought you musta had pounds and pounds for the smell that was in here..."
"Nah, just like when we used to grow mate, a few out back, you know...we were just finishing the dry and clean up, you know, it stinks."
"..and it's just that like it's not mine it's half Neils too, so it was a bit of a shock to see you at the door"
"Faarck mate, you were as white as a sheet....never seen you look so ill...." laughter...it broke it.
Neil sat down. Chopped, packed, passed.
It appeared we'd managed to pull it off. Simon bought an ounce, vowing that it was all sweet and his lips were sealed.
It's surprising how quickly you can move pot in quantity if you're a motivated seller. Price is the kicker, always. In 5 weeks we'd moved 70 pounds at $1000 a pound. Most of which just to people we knew. People who would usually purchase by the ounce, now found enough for a pound, and a damn near half what It usually sold for, they were often coming back for seconds.
It wasn't the intention to sell, not like this. A little here and there smoke till next season, that's what it was about. We both now felt compramised by Simon coming unannounced and wanted to be rid of it as fast as possible. He did say once he thought those few pound we had went quick, if only he new.
It left me with a hefty back pocket, weed for months, and an urge to get away. I was restless and needed time by myself, it just wasn't working for me around other people.
Out of one mess into another is where this began, now I just wanted to surf, be by myself a while. I said my goodbyes to Neil, left what was there, and left for good. I was driving up and down the coast looking for surf. It was late summer...
