Citation: Peter. "The River and The Mountains: An Experience with Mescaline, Methamphetamine, Cannabis & Heroin (exp8857)". Erowid.org. Aug 18, 2001. erowid.org/exp/8857
To me, the synergy between drugs is a very interesting aspect of drug usage - it can add the extra elements of profundity, intensity and plain simple fun one individual can obtain by using drugs which mutually potentiate one another.
I, as a simple 19 year old post-pubescent overthinking psychonaut had planned one thing - the use of psychedelics, namely mescaline in its pure (and extremely illegal) form, as a sulphate salt. Just as my friend (we'll call him T) were about to dose, I recieved a telephone call from a 'supplier', offering what sounded, and did turn out to be stolen hospital supplies, these namely being a vial of Diacetyl Morphine, and a bottle of Methamphetamine tablets. At an irresistable price from such a nice guy, I could hardly refuse.
I won't go into details of getting said chemicals, so I'll continue with my initial dosing. Here's how it went...
at T+00 T and I took two smallish bumps of crushed methamphetamine tablets each, with our hopes being not only to have the energy to last the whole damned experience, but also to make use of the meth's sympathomimetic features (the lay term meaning it opens up your windpipe wider and allows you to take in more smoke - very useful). As usual the meth took about a minute to kick, and we found ourselves jabbering nonsensically for twenty minutes, before remembering about the mescaline. oh my.
T+25 With said mescaline sulphate dissolved in grapefruit juice, down the hatch the foul tasting shit went, slowly though, over about 15 - 20 mins. Immediately followed by compulsive cleaning of teeth and repeated gargling of large amounts of listerine until demonic mescaline foul taste of death disappears.
t+1.00 Neither T nor I had experienced mescaline before. We had planned to go out once the mescaline kicked in, but decided to wait a while for mistreated stomachs to settle and crystal to wear off.
Then a brilliant idea occured - probably the most sane all day: T suggested we use a little of this powerful skunk to reduce nausea, as we'd never tried it before and it never seemed to reduce said sickness anyway.
By this time I was too far gone to say 'Ok - A little' but I did persuade T to wait awhile just for the mescaline to work.
Oh my. mescaline is more powerful than I thought. A brilliant and new cornucopia of meandering colourful images welcome my vision with eyes closed. Feel like I'm going to float away... through open eyes the hilarity of faces on T and the television can only be described with a likeness to British TV's 'Spitting Image'. Life is caressing the shadows and working its way into the light, bumping into each other and dancing to the music (which at the time if memory serves me correctly was 'Whiskey in the Morning', by Buckcherry. Fantastic song, with the little stoned tadpoles and froglets gently pleasuring themselves through the flowing light and colour patterns. My nody was quite literally restless, hyper and deliciously lethargic, symultaneously. The myriad of colours was softening and the body feeling was getting more intense. Very pleasurable. The sight of T packing a bong reminds me of a spider monkey using some kind of metallic potato to masturbate frantically. Laughter maketh mescaline indeed more intoxicating. I want to writhe with pleasure, but the temptation at that moment to masturbate myself were too strong, and T wouldn't like it!
Well well. Crystal is a brilliant dilator of those muscles behind the ribs. I've just come out of what was another dimension. A beautiful place of solitude, of learning, creativity and boundless frolicking round the river and the mountains.
What I'd done was packed a huge bowl of what was THE most poweful cannabis I had ever smoked. I had felt that my breathing was stable now, not so erratic and my heart was pounding at what seemed like a nice stable 80. So I slowly took in a massive bowl of skunk, which felt blindingly intense as soon as I took the hit, and remained held in my lungs for 30 seconds. As soon as I let the smoke out it filled the room... T just sat there and said 'ooooohh! that's some one hit shit, right buddy?'.
My spluttering response, apparently was 'h-h-holy shit', before flopping back onto the floor, from my seated position, with the blood pump now at what felt like 2000, beating in my mouth. Visuals took over and I decided to go with the flow. I drifted into the land of the river and the mountains. I asked the question 'why a river and mountains?'. I realised the answer was plain and simple. They represent one's path and choices in the infinite energy which is still beyond scientific comprehension, called life. One must take the path using the right map and guidance. People who dash up the mountains and let their egos and pride take over will fall back to the bottom and have to start again. Once at the top of the mountain it's just as tempting to jump in the river, and do all you can. But this would be overwhelming, and the diver would find themselves being rushed far too quickly towards the end of the river, and thus the end of life. One must therefore descend the mountain carefully, looking for the source of the river, following the right tributaries until your abilities have developed enough for you to swim steadily and handle any undertows obstacles in the right ways. Either side of the river are beautiful forests alive with the sound of giggling pink cherobs and pleasure fairies. These are merely distractions and false pleasures, and although they're nice for awhile, they'll stop your journey down the river.
After awaking from this amazingly conceptual imagery (two hours later) I proceeded to wake T, who was in the same position as me across the room also on the floor. He grunted and stirred, and sat up. I explained my concept to him, and he told me of his closed-eye imagery of the astral bodies Ra and Gilgamesh engaging in a duel of smite, swords drawn and eyes glowing. Fascinating. He wasn't quite as off his face as I, but even I could tell he was a million miles away!
Well the mescaline's all but left a twinkle now. The effects have mostly disappeared. A little more crystal has allowed another hour of whimsical babbling, atrocious jokes and pot-headed witty banter in the style of Nietzsche meets Shakespeare, and our brilliant idea of making 'Thus spake Zarathustra' into a comedy series set in space, along the lines of the brilliant five-part trilogy of Doug Adams' 'Hitchhiker's guide'. However, now the meth is getting tired and paranoid. Exit state and reboot universe with the aid of some nice pure Diamorphine. 20mg were in the ampoule, and we had a third of this each. (Seeing as I paid for the skag, I get the last of it as and when I desire of course! T kept the meth because I find compulsion sometimes kicking in with meth, leaving canker sores and 2 day anorexia in my already skinny body). I would like to stress that I _always_ use clean equipment (sterilised) when injecting into a vein especially. Avoid even the tiniest air bubble in the syringe, and use pure injecting medium such as ascorbic acid when shooting.
Anyways, I prepared the H, and T shot first, as I had to reiterate him on safe shooting. Once said task was complete. I stared into this grey syringe for five minutes, then approached my bed, taking the tourniquet from T on the way, seeing him staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling made me want to do the same, so without further ado, I jabbed my forearm and joined him in the land of nod.
After being on the nod for what must've been 6 hours, I got up and felt the bile rising in my throat, and proceded to rush to the nice, friendly water closet for some therapeutic regurgitation. I also got some ciggies from my kitchen and gave one to T who welcomed it, as he was still very much feeling semisynthetic peace and solitude. I indeed felt tranquil aswell and when T woke up we shared a celebratory bowl of our beloved skunk, along with sharing the remaining heroin. What an exhausting day. Time for sleep.
I awoke to the sound of T vomiting into the toilet. Thank christ he didn't decorate the place again, as he did during his 'alcohol incident' last summer. After barging past T to vomit into the sink, and clutching my head reeling from the most agonising motherfucking hangover imaginable to humanity, my girlfriend rang. I sobered up and vowed to view drug combinations with more care from then on.
Peace to you all
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