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Dispatches from the Highlands
$4.20 Cents
Cannatown Travel & Leisure
D rive on a blustery early spring day out north of Cannatown, up the foothills past Black Reefer Falls, into the the dona Juanita Valley, and you’ll come upon Ripped, a small little town known to few outside its forest walls. Without thinking, you can zip through the main strip, in and out and further skyward in just seconds, “I GOT RIPPED IN RIPPED” A Small Town, an Epicenter of Major Vibes
ere’s a calmer air here too, a thick smoke rolling in every morning just half- past nine, when the earliest of risers tra- verse to the misty morning rigs to spark up the dawn dabs that billow and blast anyone in a giant valley-wide hotbox. “We’re family here,” says Harmony Blazer, head of Nails at the local utility. “I just really can’t think of anything more self-actualizing than rolling out 50-gallon barrels of wax to wake and bake a whole valleys’ worth of people at once.”
e Town of Ripped
unaware of the living his- tory you’re passing by. But for those who stop to ex- plore, this strangely magical destination presents a truly unique world apart from the one we know. Hidden among the lush trees and cavernous rocky pleats cleaving Mt. IcyBong’s south face, the alpine village sports a grand view of some of the High- land’s highest peaks, a sort
of last-stop chill before adventuring into the clouds, all with a laid-back country lilt some would even call “old-school.” Time moves di erently here. From the rst butt-plant in the benches at the lo- cal train station, to the passage through skunky elds and into the picturesque downtown, the vibrant colors and resonat- ing mountain sounds usher in the serenity that comes once in a blue moon, away from the stresses of every day life. Despite the remote location, it doesn’t take long to bump into new friends; from the front steps of Ginny’s co ee emporium to Dale’s back porch, to the couch at Fred’s, everyone has shared the smoking circle. ey still use a match to spark up a bowl. You can still buy dime sacks down on the corner from Willie. ere’s a free bubbler on each corner, and a giant communal bong in the public quare.
“To me, that’s it, ” she says. “ at’s the job.” With each morning’s roast follows a knee-jerk hunt for breakfast, a ritual yearning that sends many locals straight into the streets, wandering like zombies for the nearest café. Which isn’t a bad thing, because the local economy exists on the premise that people are ravenously return- ing to diners about every few hours. Foodies with munchies will want to fre- quent the Krispies King, the local “devil’s workshop” of decadence, and an establish- ment that actually touts its formal boycott by members of the Dentist Association. Try a donut-and-icecream sandwich, drizzled in strawberry sauce and topped in Mike and Ike candies. Follow it up with a double-shot of pure Hershey’s syrup and Foreman- Grilled Hotdogs with aged ketchup. ose who grow suddenly tired aer a
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