I told myself it was just going to be this one last time and then that was it for good. I had been smoking pot since I was fifteen years old and now I was a grown up with a real job. It was time to put my stoner days behind me once and for all. Joints always tasted the best when I enjoyed them on a mountain trail surrounded by the pines. And after all it was just going to be this one last time.
I stopped by a run down dispensary on the side of the road on my way to the trail and purchased and stale pack of pre-rolls with a harvest date that was over two years old. They were going to burn the shit out of my throat but it was the last time so it really didn’t matter. What did I need my throat for besides smoking joints anyway? I would have stopped at a better place but I had to improvise.
That afternoon I had awoken in a stoned haze, having slept right through my alarm. I didn’t have time to research the trail ahead of time and I was cutting it close in terms of beating the sunset but I was a fast hiker and most of the hikes in the area had only been moderately difficult in the past. I figured I could make it if I left right away. Somehow it seemed important that I follow through with doing the hike or it might interfere with my ability to quit weed and move forward with my adult life. It didn’t really make sense but none of my thoughts really made sense at that time.
When I arrived at the trail head I was the only car in the parking lot. It had turned out to be an unseasonably nasty day. It was overcast and windy and it was already almost dark. Still I decided I was going to complete the entire trail and smoke the entire pack of pre rolls and then that would be that.
As I smoked the pre-rolls the hiking became effortless and I continued along the trail at a very good clip. Still it was becoming increasingly obvious that I had fucked up. I was not going to beat the sunset. In fact, at best I would completing about half the trail in complete darkness. However, I had my phone flashlight and the trail was well cleared and well marked. On a nicer day it would have been highly trafficked, filled with hikers and dogs. But today there was just me.
I became completely lost in my thoughts. I was barely even focusing on the hike anymore. As the sun was getting dangerously close to finally setting I approached a clearing in the woods with a second trailhead. Parked near the trailhead was a perfectly pristine white Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera. But there was no one inside and no one in sight. I hadn’t passed anyone on the trail. I passed by the clearing without dwelling too much on it and continued down the trail. I was going down hill and making incredibly good pace, practically flying along the path. Maybe I wouldn’t have to spend so long hiking in the dark after all.
As the the sun was setting the clouds which had been dreary the whole day briefly looked kind of colorful and nice. I found a nice tree to sit under while I smoked the final stale, harsh preroll in the pack. I felt as though things were going to be ok. Everything was going to work out the way it should and adulthood was more or less going to be fine. And if it wasn’t I was sure that I could always find a different sort of heady repressed state to retreat into. But it wasn’t clear what that might turn out to be. Touring on a wine vineyards on the weekends perhaps? But hopefully not anything involving pickle ball. Please God anything but pickle ball.
The amount of time I spent under the tree thinking nonsensical thoughts and enjoying the somewhat muted sunset was beginning to somewhat offset the incredibly fast pace I had been making previously. But at that point I didn’t care.
The bliss wore off quickly as I passed the lowest part of the hike and began my long climb upwards in the darkness. The flashlight on my cellphone really wasn’t sufficient for the task at hand and I regretted not upgrading to a newer model when I had the chance but I’m sure financial irresponsibility is something any stoner can understand. Suddenly I encountered a series of punishing switchbacks which seemed to never stop. It kind of felt good. In a way it felt like the all those years of Doritos and late night TV watching were leaving my body. But at the same time I was growing winded and it was getting dark and cold and I was beginning to feel ready to be back at the parking lot in my nice warm car.
Looking back this is the most ironic part of the entire story. That I felt ready for it to be over then. Because it was dark and cold and I was tired. Later on in the story I would find myself ready to give anything to return to that moment, before I knew that I was being hunted.