Despite having moved to Oregon for trim work, we honestly didn't do much trimming in the time we were there. The one real job we did manage to get was a dab job, processing trim for a farmer in Oregon who was from the east coast. In reality, while there were other little bouts of trimming, we only got one real job as trimmers and it only lasted a day. It was an interesting experience to say the least and we left with some cannabis for pay and some cannabis seeds.
The opportunity came about as many do in Oregon, the guy was a friend of R. He was supposedly lacking in trimmers so R decided he was going to try to get us work with him. He told him that he would come up with some trimmers, not specifying who we were. This ended up being somewhat of an issue when we got there, as he brought strangers to a friends grow without him knowing it beforehand. R said that this was a really good friend of his and gushed about the mans wife's kombucha business and their recycled house, citing that we would get along with them just fine. Finally, it seemed like we might be getting what we came to Oregon for.
He told us to get ready, that he'd take us up the hill to their property later that day, when he planned to get rid of his own trimmers. Crazy and Crazy lady had worn out their welcome a little, so when the job was finished it came time for them to leave. Resist was traveling with them at the time, so despite being still welcome on the property, she left with them. Being the backpacking hippy types, they were prepared for this and had their camp and dogs ready to go when it came time to leave. We all piled into the back of R's pickup truck and headed out.
The travelers knew we were going for a job and tried to get him to drop them closer to where we were going, just to get them a little farther before they needed to hitchhike. He told them no and left them at a gas station notorious for being a place where you can catch rides or ask for money, as a hippy traveler, with good results. When we got there, they found that they had left one of their dog leashes on the property. R handed them like 6 dollars and told them to buy a new one. We left them there and continued on, deep into the hills of Oregon.
Eventually, we came upon a property in a really shady forested area with a long driveway that had an interesting looking house at the end of it. We got out of the truck and the woman of the property, I'll just call her Dready as she had really long dreadlocks, came out to greet us. Her eyes fell on us and she raised concern, as she had no idea who we were and we were at her house. R told her we were the trimmers, that we were cool and there would be no problems. Apprehensively, she called someone on the phone, presumably her husband and R's friend, to tell him that the trimmers were here, just not who he expected. They were both pretty irritated with R, understandably so considering how easy it is to be robbed of your crop as a cannabis farmer.
We got invited inside the house, where Dready shared that the entire thing was made from recycled materials. The house was gorgeous, an art piece in itself. It sported a wood stove for heat and cooking purposes and was honestly really nice. We smoked a little weed with her on the back porch, while we waited for her husband. Her son was running around, hitting things and people and acting crazy. It was clear they were the hands off type of parents, the ones who will let their son do whatever because they didn't want to be "controlling parents". Eventually her husband came down, who I'll call Jack. He spoke very quickly and acted as though he were in a huge hurry. He was also pretty annoyed that R had brought total strangers to his house, although he was willing to try us out as he needed trimmers.
He took us to the top of their property, where the cannabis farm was. There we were immediately encountered by a fat little blue nosed pit bull, we'll call Blue. She took to us, as she could probably tell we have a soft spot for dogs like her. She was a beautiful dog, save for the fact that she had a lot of bald spots from fleas.
The plants that were left were under hoop houses, which is honestly the only reason they weren't chopped down already in rainy southern Oregon in the fall. He had been practicing companion planting and other permaculture techniques in his garden which made it an interesting garden to visit. We probably would not have agreed with him on everything, but we had some things in common with him as far as growing was concerned.
There were two guys sitting in the hoop house, trimming. We shared some weed and dabs and discussed the job. I shared that I was the fastest trimmer I have encountered. He told us the terms for pay, one ounce for every pound trimmed, which is standard. It was already early evening, so we discussed coming back in the morning for a full day. We packed up our dabs and went back to the property, finally with the prospect of work.
The next morning we showed up pretty early. Only one of the guys from the day before was there that day. We started trimming in the hoop house, at the same table they were sitting at the day before. Blue was about, excited that her new friends were back. She made trimming interesting, as she kept trying to use the table to scratch her back. This had a tendency to make everything on the table go flying. It was both amusing and annoying to deal with. Eventually Jack got her to settle down and lay down, and she did so in a pot that he had used to grow weed, still sporting a stump where the plant had been chopped. She evidently had decided earlier in the season that the giant pots used to grow weed make great beds.
We got to work trimming and it was business as usual until he rains started. After they showed no signs of letting up, we moved operations to the barn nearby. There wasn't much light available, but at least it was dry for the most part. We got set back to trimming, which we continued for the next several hours. We stopped at a point for some food, quickly returning to the job. As a trimmer, time is money. As it got darker outside, it got darker in the barn which made it really tough for us to see what we were doing.
As early evening started to roll around, Jack brought out some home made phoenix tears, also known as Rick Simpson oil. He spread a huge gob onto a piece of graham cracker and gave it to the other guy that was there, someone we found out is a regular employee of his throughout the season. He gave us some to us as well, in much smaller amounts as we had never eaten RSO before, and he didn't want to hamper our performance.
Within an hour, the guy he gave the big gob to was nearly useless. He was slurring his words and falling asleep while trimming, repeatedly. The same guy had reported earlier that he wasn't smoking very much weed anymore. All things considered, it was a stupid idea for him to take that much RSO while working, as anyone in his position would have reacted the same way. Jack made jokes about how he was passing out and told him to go take a nap. The guy retired to a recliner and fell asleep. We kept trimming, conversing with Jack on all sorts of subjects, especially cannabis farming. He could recognize that we were just farmers like him, working trim jobs because of bad life circumstances.
When we told him that our seed stock had been stolen we were robbed, he felt pretty bad for us. He grabbed a pack and started pulling out little pouches of seeds to give to us, to help us get started building a new genetic library. He gave us seeds for the famous strain Berry White, as well as some other less well known varieties. He got our pay squared away based off of the amount we trimmed and we got ready for the end of the day.
Before we left, we asked for a little more of the RSO. We had not experienced much effect from the small amount we were given. Considering he had a large jar, he certainly had some to spare. So he gave us each a gob of the black oil on a graham cracker and sent us on our way. We discussed coming back to finish, but he said he didn't even have a days worth of work ready for us with our pace, so we decided against making the long trek to his property once more.
We got back in the truck and headed home. We were happy we had gotten the job, but worried as it seemed pretty clear that the trimming season was just about over in Southern Oregon. We worried about whether or not we'd find any more work after this. The ride home was long and hilly, not good if you've got issues with motion sickness especially riding in the back of a pickup. It took me a long time to get used to riding around on the mountain roads of Oregon, many stomach aches were sustained. The last time I threw up was after riding in a car in Oregon, as a testament to how badly my stomach reacted to those hills. This day was no exception, I was feeling pretty sick by the time we got back, although I managed to avoid throwing up. John wasn't feeling very good himself, and he wasn't so lucky.
When got home, we both beelined for the smoke room. After some dabs, we ate some cereal (being one of the cheapest foods available on the property). The feeling of carsickness never really left either of us. Not long after eating the cereal, John ran outside and threw up, getting rid of most of the large amount of RSO oil he had just consumed. The dogs on the property immediately flocked to the vomit, in typical (gross) dog fashion. What happened next was hilarious, and probably made those dogs think twice before eating anyone else's vomit.
Within an hour, Jackson was walking around the property slowly, swaying, with a worried look on his face. He was used to being alpha, the big dog in control of the property. He could tell something was up and it caused him to let his guard down. After speculating why he was acting the way he was, it hit us. He had just eaten all of the oil John had thrown up. Acid, who was one of his owners, disclosed that while Jackson likes smoking dabs, he really doesn't like eating them. This probably is mainly due to the fact that he isn't able to do what he sees as his work, circling the property protecting his pack. It wasn't just him, either, as Rebel's sister Bobo was staggering around the property as well.
Something we've noticed is that eating cannabis effects dogs much more than smoking it does. So when you give your dog some oil, he's going to get way more effect off of it than if you had just smoked the same amount of dab and gave the smoke to him. I've noticed this first hand with Rebel. We can give him dabs all day, but if he even eats a small portion of a weed cookie, he's swaying all over the place and it sometimes ends in him throwing up once or twice. We generally avoid giving him any cannabis by eating for this reason, it should really only be reserved for certain cases with dogs. Most effects from cannabis that dogs seem to enjoy come from smoking it, which is surprising but true. Although they don't like smoke in the eyes just like humans so vaporizing methods are the most pet friendly.
The dogs were pretty high for a good while, which really bothered Jackson. His life's work was to circle the property constantly, making sure his pack was safe. When this heavily under the influence, all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep. He had a lot of anxiety showing on his face as a result. He was fine though, and the next day was completely back to normal. Bobo did throw up once, as she was only 10 weeks old at the time. She spent the rest of the high sleeping peacefully, spread across the couch being cuddled by the little girl that lived on the property. It's safe to say those dogs stayed clear of any other vomit on the property, unsure of if it would hold more of that oil.
We did a bit of trimming on the property we were on before the job was done, partially because everyone there happened to be extremely slow. The little bit we did trim evidently made a dent, as we got paid for it later. This job we worked for one day was the only real trimming gig we got in Oregon in the time we were there. There was a joke of a job that came through family that we were involved in later, but by that point we were busy with the job we managed to find on our own making dabs. The best thing we got out of our job that day was the seeds as the cannabis market was completely saturated at that time due to the recent harvest. We've said many times that Oregon is a beautiful place to be stranded, and it's the truth. There was plenty of beauty and cannabis, but when it came to making money, there isn't much cash to be found in Oregon. It's for this reason that so much of Oregon's cannabis is shipped east, to be sold at a higher price.