Strain: Agoura Purple
Scene: friends funky house in the hills over Malibu
Year: 1976
There were 5 of us sitting around when this guy (I think his name was Bob, the grower) shows up carrying a cardboard box full of buds 1'--2' in length. Probably a pound (or more).
He asks us if anyone wants to buy any pot.
We were all broke (as usual) but we said "let's try it" figuring we could at least get a high out of it.
So the grower twists up 2 normal-sized joints.
Friends and neighbors, I'm not lying. Those 2 joints put 6 people in TheTwilight Zone.
Not high.
Not way stoned.
Totally destroyed. We couldn't walk, we couldn't talk.
The grower was so wasted he left without his boxful of buds.
Now, all of us sitting there would have loved to have gone over to that boxfull sitting right in front of us in the middle of the living room and break off a small nug for later.
But no one could get up.
About 5 minutes later the grower comes back.
"Hey man did I leave my box of buds here?"
Someone managed to point to it.
"Thanks man" he says and jams.
I sought this guy out and hung out with him a couple of times.
He had been growing the same strain for years. He crossed Vietnamese with Nepalese whoa baby.
He grew a certain amt every year (about 25 plants, the perfect size garden), out on his very remote property. The weed was already sold, He had long-time repeat customers who ordered a year in advance how much they wanted that fall. Any remainder he's sell to the locals.
The buds had a beautiful purple color to them, more intense than any I've ever seen, with maroons and magentas.
I was with him when he topped one of them and I swear it oozed purple sap.
The high was unusual. Yeah it laid you back, but you were hyper-aware of what was going on around you. It seemed to improve vision greatly, allowing you to see clearer further, with colors more vibrant and alive. It was like you could carefully examine the bark of a tree a hundred feet away and feel the texture (cause I did it). No hullicinations but everything looked BITCHEN.
In fact it seemed to heighten all the senses. I remember it gave you cottonmouth like a *****.
I bought whenever I could, for over 2 years. I asked for seeds and he told me he wouldn't part with them for any price.
"Everything has a price" I said.
"Not these" he told me. They were his own creation. And he was convinced it was the best pot in the world, and I agree.
If you ever saw his place, you'd never want to move. It was kinda old ranch-style house with a large screened porch and stuff like a pantry and root celler, stuck where you'd least expect it on 7 acres of land in the woods/chaparral of Malibu Canyon. With a pretty much year-round stream with frogs and minnows.
The house itself was filled with perfectly preserved antiques, left behind by Bob's grandparents who built the house circa 1910.
In 1979 or 1980, there was a fire that started in the Canejo Valley (Agoura) and burned 12 miles over the Santa Monica's all the way to the beach. Started by an arsonist, it burned about 12 houses, livestock/pets and there was 1 fatality.
Anyway, Bob got out ok but he lost the house, it's contents and some animals. He collected ins. and went who knows where don't ask me I'm the bass player.
Hey Bob old pal if you're reading this PM me.
Scene: friends funky house in the hills over Malibu
Year: 1976
There were 5 of us sitting around when this guy (I think his name was Bob, the grower) shows up carrying a cardboard box full of buds 1'--2' in length. Probably a pound (or more).
He asks us if anyone wants to buy any pot.
We were all broke (as usual) but we said "let's try it" figuring we could at least get a high out of it.
So the grower twists up 2 normal-sized joints.
Friends and neighbors, I'm not lying. Those 2 joints put 6 people in TheTwilight Zone.
Not high.
Not way stoned.
Totally destroyed. We couldn't walk, we couldn't talk.
The grower was so wasted he left without his boxful of buds.
Now, all of us sitting there would have loved to have gone over to that boxfull sitting right in front of us in the middle of the living room and break off a small nug for later.
But no one could get up.
About 5 minutes later the grower comes back.
"Hey man did I leave my box of buds here?"
Someone managed to point to it.
"Thanks man" he says and jams.
I sought this guy out and hung out with him a couple of times.
He had been growing the same strain for years. He crossed Vietnamese with Nepalese whoa baby.
He grew a certain amt every year (about 25 plants, the perfect size garden), out on his very remote property. The weed was already sold, He had long-time repeat customers who ordered a year in advance how much they wanted that fall. Any remainder he's sell to the locals.
The buds had a beautiful purple color to them, more intense than any I've ever seen, with maroons and magentas.
I was with him when he topped one of them and I swear it oozed purple sap.
The high was unusual. Yeah it laid you back, but you were hyper-aware of what was going on around you. It seemed to improve vision greatly, allowing you to see clearer further, with colors more vibrant and alive. It was like you could carefully examine the bark of a tree a hundred feet away and feel the texture (cause I did it). No hullicinations but everything looked BITCHEN.
In fact it seemed to heighten all the senses. I remember it gave you cottonmouth like a *****.
I bought whenever I could, for over 2 years. I asked for seeds and he told me he wouldn't part with them for any price.
"Everything has a price" I said.
"Not these" he told me. They were his own creation. And he was convinced it was the best pot in the world, and I agree.
If you ever saw his place, you'd never want to move. It was kinda old ranch-style house with a large screened porch and stuff like a pantry and root celler, stuck where you'd least expect it on 7 acres of land in the woods/chaparral of Malibu Canyon. With a pretty much year-round stream with frogs and minnows.
The house itself was filled with perfectly preserved antiques, left behind by Bob's grandparents who built the house circa 1910.
In 1979 or 1980, there was a fire that started in the Canejo Valley (Agoura) and burned 12 miles over the Santa Monica's all the way to the beach. Started by an arsonist, it burned about 12 houses, livestock/pets and there was 1 fatality.
Anyway, Bob got out ok but he lost the house, it's contents and some animals. He collected ins. and went who knows where don't ask me I'm the bass player.
Hey Bob old pal if you're reading this PM me.
just playing ... neat story though
