GREEN GOLD: the cultivation of marijuana in Humboldt County

Short story of my experiences with the pot growing culture of the 1970's, while working on the Orleans Ranger District of the Six Rivers National Forest.   

Could be many more days of writing as the Corona virus sets in and we become home bound to avoid contact with the outside world.

Be safe out there

GREEN GOLD

 

Back in the 1960’s and 70’s Humboldt County, in northwestern California was known as the pot growing capital of the country and the revenue it generated was a major factor in the economy there.   Much of the marijuana was grown on the Six Rivers National Forest under the disguise of mining claims, both legal and illegal.   These claims were established under the Mining Act of 1872, which is still applicable today with some revisions.    Other marijuana or ‘pot plantations’ were established in remote areas of the forest, where a good water source could be tapped and there was abundant sunshine available during the growing season.   It was not uncommon to stumble across a black plastic pipe while working in the woods for the Forest Service cruising timber or doing tree plantation surveys.   During the winter of 1972 the tree planting crew I was working on came across an abandon greenhouse frame located in an old tree plantation that we were replanting.   The Resource Staff Assistant on the Orleans Ranger District of the Six Rivers National Forest had the job of keeping inventory of mining claims on the District, in addition to other duties of this position.   At times he would visit some of the claims to see what progress was being made.   On one occasion some of these claimants made an office visit to the Resource Assistant and threatened to kill him if he ever returned to their claim.   These characters were easy to identify in the small community of Orleans as most had long hair, beards and the general appearance of being rough individuals, sometimes packing guns.    After having a few beers in one of the three drinking establishments some of these people would show off their big rolls of cash after harvesting their crop.    There was an old building across from the post office, known as wino hill where many of the pot growers would make deals selling their goods.   It was also a place where some of the local Indians gathered to consume liquor, mostly in the form of wine.   My only encounter was on a weekend, while hiking alone cross country back to my truck, parked at the end of a logging road from a hike into the Trinity Alps Wilderness, when I stumbled through a pot grower’s camp where the occupants were sitting around a camp fire.   I was packing a 357 revolver and as I passed through their camp they just said, “how you doing?”   I don’t remember my reply, just kept moving and nothing happened.   They must have thought I was another grower with the sight of my revolver.   Who knows?