Nothing wrong with that Trap Island. Not much of a bite. Or I was relaxed and there was nothing to bite onto, at least no low-hanging fruit.
And what better a reason not to engage in anything that will get bit if and when I smoke later that day. No baggage. I’m talking about beefs with people. Arguments. Tiffs. Usually mostly bullshit. If I’m gonna carry something around, I gotta make sure it’s really worth it.
This pen is flying, supple and wet. Signo 207 purple. These are great pens.
The Trap Island was from R Greenleaf in Ruidoso, New Mexico. I don’t have any notes on what the lineage was. It was perhaps related to Trapstar, a strain they also sold. The Trapstar is LA Kush crossed with The Cube. The “island” part of the name might have come from Island Sweet Skunk, an old school strain created from lines including White Widow, Grapefruit, Haze, and Northern Lights.
If I had to guess, I’d say Trap Island was a sativa, or sativa-leaning. My review suggests I believed there should have been a bite, which I would have presumed more so from a sativa than an indica. Generally speaking, because some indicas give me a nasty bite, especially anything with Sherbet in it, probably because of that Burmese landrace that’s in there.
Anyway, this isn’t much of a strain review. I never went back to R Greenleaf. I’ve never seen Trap Island anywhere else. But the last time I bought in Ruidoso I wasn’t blown away by what I got, so maybe I will give these folks another shot. If they still sell by the gram.
To clarify what I mean by “the bite.”
It’s true of marijuana, and probably true of a lot of drugs. Mushrooms come to mind. Even alcohol. You start to feel the effects of the drug but then your mind starts skimming off the worries and angst bubbling up there at the surface of your consciousness. If you’ve made a mistake, done something stupid, or just had something lousy happen in your life, the high will sometimes make its first stop in this territory, on these front-and-center topics. Even if you didn’t think you really wanted to think about them. After all, isn’t that the point of the drug, to escape, to avoid, to detach, for a little while?
My experience with marijuana is that I often encounter this “bite” phase of the high first. Sometimes it isn’t negative at all but yields a “head rush” replete with wacky ideas, the highs and “high-deas” of my younger days. Pure wild-minded bliss. But if there’s something I’ve been kicking myself over, or some nonsense I cannot get out of my head, the high will make me encounter this reality. It’s the opposite of escapism. It can be therapeutic, facing what worries me. Or it can send me spinning down the bitten wormhole—if I fight it, if I allow myself to dwell there. I let the bite take its hold for a few minutes then I tell myself I smoked up to relax and enjoy myself, not to wallow.
But, as my experience with Trap Island suggests, it is best to hold nothing in your head to have your high mind “bite onto.” In such a case, you just get right to the good stuff, and there’s not much simpler in life or better than that.
Weeds of Grass 