Memories of Weed in 1971

Auggie

Well-Known Member
The post below, "Memories of Weed in VietNam" by Smokin Moose reminded me of my own story, in the summer of 1971.

I am younger than Smokin, about ten years I guess. I was just out of high school, working part time nowhere jobs, wondering what I was going to do. I had my draft number and, it wasn't good. I was guaranteed to be the first lot to go when I turned 19.
A high school buddy's dad had a real nice boat moored in the San Francisco Bay, East Bay. It was a commercial boat so it was well equipped and seaworthy. We used to party there in high school, LoL, another story. Many stories.

He calls one day and "Let's go fishing, the salmon are hot ..." I'm there.

Me and him and another high school friend go out the next day at sun up. The fishing was great. We limited by noon. In fact had one too many so we made fillets and cooked it right there. Ate fresh salmon, drank some beer, cleaned some fish, smoked some rag.

Time to go back. We'd noticed a lot of air activity. A small plane, a helicopter (and we were a ways out there - near the Farallon Islands.) Saw a Coast Guard cutter about a mile away to the north, not unusual and good to see actually. No mind, we high and happy with our catches.

So, we cruise for about an hour heading east for the coast. It's about 4pm, high clouds. the sea was relatively calm with four foot swells and no waves. My buddy says, "There's something big in the water over there" pointing. I don't see it. He slows the boat and makes a slight turn. I see it now. Looks like a box about three by four by five feet.

As it rolls near the side of the boat I can see that it is wrapped in rope or heavy cord. The other guy gets a hook on it, and looks at me like 'help' and I scramble down to the deck to help him haul it in. The whole time I'm thinking, "Why am I doing this?"

Lots of grunting and cussing and it's on the deck, dripping. The package is wrapped in very heavy black plastic. I mean the gauge of plastic that lines a pool. Every edge is taped down with a very heavy black cloth duct tape. And that is wrapped and tied with a medium gauge white cord.

There we are; bobbing in the middle of the ocean. Not within sight of land. No other ship or boat or plane. Standing around this 'box' with our mouths half open. What now?

I get a bait knife and go to work on the cords. Somebody else had a pocket knife and started sawing at the black duct tape on the black rubber covering.

We finally got it open and it was full of weed. Not just weed; but as it turned out over 6 kilos of Accopolco Gold, and 10 kilos of Thai that was soooo sticky it was hard to keep lit.

The only thing that I can think of is that a plane was flying off the coast of Cali and dropping packages in the water for a smaller boat to pick up. Instead, we picked it up. So, how many ways did we almost ... if the smugglers had caught us, we'd be dead and lost at sea; if the Coast Guard caught us, we'd be getting out of prison right about now.

How did I get as old as I am?

But, we made it back to port and loaded everything up in the truck and went home to count it up.

We swore that we'd never sell any of it.
We swore that we'd never tell anyone about it.
And, until this day, that promise was kept - and I break it now because the other two guys are dead.

So, screw em.
 
Great story Auggie. I can see there be a chilling element to your recall of that if it had gone differently. Only after reading it did I remember something vaguely similar I hadn't thought of in a long time.

In the 1980's me and a mate had bought a beaten up yacht in Sarasota Florida, and after straightening out her rudder and cleaning her up a little we sailed her to the UK. One day half way across the pond we saw another boat in the distance, a smallish fishing boat that wasn't fishing. It looked similar in size to the one I'd worked on in Australia which was 55 feet long and had no ice maker. We had to take boxes of ice with us whenever we went out and only able to fish a day at a time. Seeing this smallish fishing boat seemed strange out in the middle of the Atlantic as it would surely take more than a week to reach land and offload their catch if they were legit. Because we hadn't seen any other boats for a few days we called them up on the radio to say hi, a few times, but no answer. Then with nothing else to do we decided to go over in case it was abandoned, but when we started towards it, it began to move away so clearly it was manned and they didn't want us close, thankfully we took the hint and promptly returned to our previous course. The thought occurred to us that they were probably running drugs to Europe, and if they'd wanted to shoot our boat out of the water, there would have been no witnesses.

But sadly, there was no floating care package for us! :hookah:
 
wow. 16 kilos of prime ganja. Bet you had lots of friends. Great story.
No kidding.
The next weekend was one HELL of a party. It was truly groovy.
Everyone wanted to know where the herb came from - we made up about a half dozen stories, and swore that they were all true. LoL.

We partied, we gave a lot away ... never sold any either. Lasted a good while too.
 
Great story Auggie. I can see there be a chilling element to your recall of that if it had gone differently. Only after reading it did I remember something vaguely similar I hadn't thought of in a long time.

In the 1980's me and a mate had bought a beaten up yacht in Sarasota Florida, and after straightening out her rudder and cleaning her up a little we sailed her to the UK. One day half way across the pond we saw another boat in the distance, a smallish fishing boat that wasn't fishing. It looked similar in size to the one I'd worked on in Australia which was 55 feet long and had no ice maker. We had to take boxes of ice with us whenever we went out and only able to fish a day at a time. Seeing this smallish fishing boat seemed strange out in the middle of the Atlantic as it would surely take more than a week to reach land and offload their catch if they were legit. Because we hadn't seen any other boats for a few days we called them up on the radio to say hi, a few times, but no answer. Then with nothing else to do we decided to go over in case it was abandoned, but when we started towards it, it began to move away so clearly it was manned and they didn't want us close, thankfully we took the hint and promptly returned to our previous course. The thought occurred to us that they were probably running drugs to Europe, and if they'd wanted to shoot our boat out of the water, there would have been no witnesses.I us

But sadly, there was no floating care package for us! :hookah:
Later, as an adult (when I was in college) I had a neighbor who was a commercial fisherman. During breaks and holidays I would fish with him. Made good money.
I learned a lot about a lot of stuff .... It's dangerous out there. And we'd only be 100 mi or so offshore; but still yet - you truly are alone.
The ocean and nature herself has NO mercy; and pirates still exist.

I got to witness the US Coast Guard punching holes in a floating 55 foot shipping container to sink it. It had evidently washed off of a tramp freighter and was in the shipping lanes so ... sink it.
To see four fifty-caliber guns firing at the same time ... from a cutter that wasn't much bigger than our boat ... it didn't take long to shred that box.
The recoil from those guns rolled that cutter over a LOT ... just from the recoil.

It never happened to us while I was on board, but the skipper told me once, "When the USGC radios that they intend to board and to heave to ... you heave to. They don't play around out here."
 
The post below, "Memories of Weed in VietNam" by Smokin Moose reminded me of my own story, in the summer of 1971.

Moose made some great posts while he was here. RIP, Mark.

I had my draft number and, it wasn't good. I was guaranteed to be the first lot to go when I turned 19.

Glad you made it back. I hope you didn't leave pieces behind.

BtW, thanks for the story.
 
Koro be careful what you wish for, it's "No Country for Old Men" country!

Auggie is the lucky one.
Yes indeed. I'm sure if we had seen something like that we wouldn't have stopped to fish it out, as it wasn't like we were 10 minutes from a boat ramp. I had the thought at the time that if they were 'bad guys' they could shoot us and the boat and no one would ever know. So it's great to get to grow for another day! :thumb:
 
Screw whom? Your buddies who faithfully kept your mutual secret? Or the smugglers who would've killed you?
Screw em all!

I just buried the guy who was the skipper of the boat.
He was 67 years old.
He told me that he didn't want anyone at his funeral with a necktie on. He told a lot of people that.
He and I used to fight a lot. We traded more than one bloody nose ... LoL. But, gawd help anyone else that tried it with the other. We had each others six. And we grew up in turbulent times, in a dangerous environment.

We grew up just north of Cutting Ave in Richmond, CA. The hood. I was the only white boy for ten blocks in any direction. He was black.

I went to his funeral and wore dress slacks, a short sleeved white shirt - - and a neck tie. Hope it pissed him off.
I'm sure it did.
Screw 'em.
 
Glad you made it back. I hope you didn't leave pieces behind.
I didn't go.
Didn't have to.

I got my number, I did the physical ... I actually got my 'greetings' (orders to report).
I had a limited time to report, and was going to report 'next week'. That weekend we had a party. I mean, it was an epic party.
"Auggie's gonna get his ass shot off" party. It lasted three days and earned two (count em) two visits by Sheriffs deputies. He didn't do anything because it was an "Auggies gonna get his ass shot off" party. LoL.

So, Monday morning I wake up. Look over to see who's in my bed ... the TV is on from the night before and some news woman is saying "and, early this morning the President signed an executive order stopping the draft ..."

I went back to sleep, my head hurt. About an hour later my eyelids few open. Did I really hear that? "The Price is Right" is on and provided no answer. It's on my mind so I was dreaming, right? My orders were right there next to the bed so I called the draft board ... busy. Call again ... busy. Call again ... ring, ring.
A gravely voiced old lady answered. I described what I heard and she says, "Yea, yea. The draft is over, ok?" I could hear phones ringing in the background. "But, I already got my greetings. Do I need to report?"
Deep sigh, I'm bothering her ... "Have you taken the oath yet?" I said, "No." She said, "Then you don't have to if you don't want to." And hung up. It took me a few minutes to process ... but, yea ... just THAT close.

And if you think "Auggie's gonna get his ass shot off" was an epic party ... you should have seen the "Auggie is NOT gonna get his ass shot off" party.
 
Don't get me wrong. I would have gone if called. I was not willing to volunteer. Was it cowardice? Maybe. I don't know. I didn't want to go, but I would have.
I was never, ever, one of those guys yelling at soldiers as they got off the plane to come home. I never believed, or actually yelled out that they were 'baby killers.'
Though I was against the war - it was so wasteful and expensive with little or no return for investment, I would never disrespect someone who did what those guys did. They were better men than me. I knew it, they knew it.

My dad was a WW2 vet, who saw real action. Real combat. I remember as a child waking in the middle of the night to the sound of him raging; or sobbing, and that was more than a decade after the war. I grew up with a PTSD parent, but nobody knew that back then.

Enough of my senseless ramblings. I blame it on a top shelf bud of Ice Cream Cake.
 
The legendary Acapulco Gold!



P.S.: @Auggie I searched for but could not find the Smokin Moose post you referred to about weed in Vietnam. Do you have a link?
 
P.S.: @Auggie I searched for but could not find the Smokin Moose post you referred to about weed in Vietnam. Do you have a link?
 
Back
Top Bottom