Trim Kamp

By A E Gold

A group of pro skateboarders take a gonzo dive into the Californian weed world; from a pool skating orgy, to a kung fu challenge-the drama never stops. Even the super trooper escapade couldn’t dampen the stoke of playing a poker tournament on acid. This was one for the record books, or book -of record. This thing you’re reading right now.
(Sidenote: Best to read when your hella HIGH.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: A E Gold
• Release date: Feb 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370588602

A E Gold

Walking the walk and telling the tale. The art of the gonzo is an arduous one, filled with cracks, drugs and whores. What started as a fascination with the beat mentality, grew into an obsession of language and lust. From first being published in The Squaw Valley Lodge monthly newsletter, to having his own columns in Snowboarder Magazine, Ari strove to bring his voice to the world. His actual published works are many, from newspapers to magazines- all on beautiful paper. His real work started with a cover article for Transworld Snowboarding Magazine. Then it budded into a 3 page article in Slap Magazine. Soon, most action sports magazines had seen an article or three. He then capped his magazine push with a sex column for Lemonade Magazine. His fascination with people, alchemy concepts, conspiracy theories, philosophy and verbiage continue to radiate through the electronic pages of today. His higher education of anthropology and psychology bleed through the latent sarcasm of his tone. Three authors that he most looks up too are: Thompson, Bukowski and cummings.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The arrival at hyphy girl farms

The turtle, aka my Scion tc- a matte black, 2006 import that has over 250,000 miles, jams up the hill to what appears to be the right farm. Everyone in the turtle is anxious, frightened and more than a little concerned that we have arrived at the wrong farm. I scan the horizon for any sign of familiarity. Aww, there it is- I see Chris’s art spray painted across a barn and am instantly aware we have arrived. I calm down the other passengers on this adventure with reassuring words and point out Chris’s art. We all wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Chris Dyer. Early October, I was scrolling through Instagram and noticed a post by Chris about doing a piece at a prestigious pot farm in northern California. I instantly direct messaged him to ask if Jason and I could come up and trim weed for them. He responded with, I’ll check into it and let you know.

A few hours later and a dm notification blears out of my phone. It reads, I have contacted the farm, Joe is the farmer’s name. His number is 530-243-3129. Give him a call. Right on, both Jason and I are pro skateboarders in the twilight of our careers. With looming injuries, young bucks on the move and the changing skateboard industry-we both see the wheel marks on the wall. It’s time to start figuring out what are we going to do with the rest of our lives. Fuck. All we know is skateboarding. Skateboarding as a professional has taught us both a ton. We have crisscrossed the globe promoting our sponsors and making a name for ourselves along the way. We both love weed, have grown a little ourselves and thought; what better way to learn about this weed life, than to go work on a weed farm for trim season.

Weed farmers in northern California grow their weed all year in the beautiful California sun and come October, they begin to harvest the sticky, resin covered, flowers of the cannabis plant. These flowers are commonly known as buds. Then they have to buck it down to smaller pieces, trim the large fan leaves off that don’t get you high and dry it in a humidity controlled room. After it has dried, the buds need to be trimmed. Trimming the bud is an art. A very labor intensive art-form, but an art-form none the less. You must shape the bud, without cutting into it. So a certain experience level is usually required to work at one of these farms. We really didn’t have much experience with bud, other than our little closet crop and all the trees we’ve chiefed over the years. Joe turned out to be a fan of ours, an ex skateboarder turned weed farmer, and invited us to his farm to trim his award winning weed. He said with a sing song voice, I’d be stoked to have yall here and I’ll teach yall how to trim. Come on up Boys!

Chris’s art was the calming beacon everyone in the turtle needed to see. Finally, we have arrived at Trim Kamp. And by we, I mean, Jason Green- a mega ramp world champion with tousled, curly sandy blond hair, recently sun-bleached from months of surfing. At 5’4 he isn’t the most commanding presence in the room, but the size of his balls more than makes up for his lack of height. His casual gait and disarming charm would cast him as a 2nd grade history teacher. But his feats on the largest obstacle in skateboarding permeate with a strong sense of confidence that shines through his piercing green eyes. Coming from Australia, his accent can be hard to understand sometimes, but the ozzie humor he emits is amazing! He’s the best fucking cunt a mate could have. He is always thinking of others and offering his candy stash to whomever needs a sugar rush. He is also very humble and never brought up who he was to the other people at trim kamp. He just wanted to make a little cash and figure out if weed growing is his next step in life.

Maxwell, an up and coming sponsored amateur, was also in the turtle with us. At 6’2, he was the tallest of the crew and his easy-going vibe was welcome. With shoulder length brown hair, a scraggly beard and commanding blue eyes, he was pure east coast bred- specifically outside Burlington, Vermont. This has molded his senses, with quick reactions hardened by the northeast winters. He also needed a little extra cash. He asked us to go trim weed at our friends record launch party held at Playbois, a local strip club. Always pressed and fresh, this camping adventure was destined to try his ability to be dirty for long periods of time. His 25 years of having clean white tees was going to be tested, as Maxwell came out the womb with a pressed white tee.

Lastly was my new girlfriend, Ashley. She’s a curvy brunette with large brown doe eyes, dimples and a booty. At 27, she is at a crossroads in her life. From traveling to Morocco, to Peru-she has been on the road for many years. Finally back in the States, she went straight to Joshua Tree Music Festival and found me. She is a singer by trade and is constantly traveling to gigs, festivals and to record music. Her free spirit was a breath of fresh air, so I offered to take her to San Diego and ultimately to trim kamp. She was down from the word, GO.

Chapter 2

Surfing with Jason

Looming 6-8 foot sets are lining up on the horizon. The salty, fishy, mist is creeping eerily from the depths of the glistening rocks. The murky mist slowly seeps into the morning sun and casts a surreal shadow along the bleached white cliff face. A west, northwest ground swell was building along this magical coastline and the contours of the flowing water were as smooth as the bottom of the girls we banged last night. We sit and I chat about the previous frivolities for a bit, while Jason smiles like a cheshire cat- but says nothing. Ha, fuckin cunt! (Sidenote: Cunt is a colloquialism commonly used within the Australian culture to designate what we, in California, call a douchbag.) Either way, this fucking cunt stands about 5’4 and always seems to pull tall ass. Last night was no different. But mister tight lips won’t divulge any nuance or detail in regards to certain activities. For instance, pertinent information like, What’s the size of her areolas? Big nips or no nips? Big lips or no lips?

Back to the beach, and not just any beach. This is the holy grail of beaches, the place where Yogananda decided to build his ashram, The Self Realization Fellowship. Swamis is one of the all time best places to surf when the swell is big and in the right direction. Deep rolling folds of cold pacific water collide with this super charged earth to electrify the air with a scintillating mist of golden effervescence. As Jason charged it with no wetsuit, I patiently put on my wetsuit and began my routine. And by routine, I do a blend of movements for warming up the physical body. I have trained 5 elemental kung-fu for over 20 years under various masters. I have studied Wuji chi gong under Great Grandmaster Fu Wei Zong and Shaolin chi gong with Grandmaster Greg Yau. As well as vinyasa yoga, prana yoga and power yoga through various chicks I have dated. I do a mix of all of this before I surf. It’s the routine and Jason gives me so much shit about it. Hey Evan, How’s your ding dong doin? Can you wrap it around arm? Can you suck your own dick yet? Fawk ya cunt, I got three waves already! he yells as I paddle up.

This swell was the perfect direction. It also seemed that not too many people knew about it, as it wasn’t even that crowded at 30 plus people- split between two peaks.  To say we scored, would be an understatement. It was all time, and thank god, because this was our last session for a month. Trim Kamp was calling and you can’t wait on the weed. When the weed is ripe, you have to pick it and when you pick it, someone has to trim it. Someone like us! Hey Jason, have you really trimmed weed before? I mentioned, as we got blasted by a sneaker set. I used to trim some of me dad’s bush weed back in Australia, but not on a large scale -no. How much are we getting paid by the way? inquired Jason. Not sure, between $150 and $200 a pound. I replied.

Damn, ya reckon I could trim 4 pounds a day? said Jason excitedly.

I retorted quickly, Yea right man, that’s pretty much impossible.

I live for impossible! shouted Jason. Let’s see it ya cunt! I yelled.

But, it’s true. Jason has lived his life doing the impossible and gets paid quite well to do it. But three pounds in twenty-four hours is just not possible. It takes me 6 hours to trim one pound of weed with no breaks and that’s with big buds. So while it’s seemingly possible, you would have to work for 18 hours straight, no breaks and no smoke. Because if you puff, there is no fucking way, nap time starts to loom on ya around hour 14. I don’t do stimulants when trimming. You’re trapped in this yurt, in a tight seat, for a long time. And shit can get hella ancy and claustrophobic real fucking quick.

I heard about some Italian chicks that would put cocaine in a nasal decongestant bottle and would mix it with water and just sniff it like that. And do all nighters. That’s the only time I have heard of 4 pounds in one day. But, I tried it one day- the cocaine trick. I couldn’t fucking sit in that fucking chair, man. No fucking way. I had to go. Anywhere. Somewhere. I ended up counteracting that awful experience with some primo OG scissor hash to bring me back down. Thank God that worked! Whew, never again. Now coffee, that’s another story. It seems to be just the right amount of up to keep you puffing tough and trimming pounds. Challenge ya fuckin cunt! Who ever can smoke the most weed AND trim the most weed gets crowned Trim King. I yelled at Jason.  It’s on Mate!" he replied, as he turned to catch another 300 yard piece of liquid perfection.

The sun set like an explosion of