A Cognitive Lunar Landing

Hi everyone, this is a trip report chronicling my experience taking magic mushrooms in Goblin Valley State Park, Utah.

As a disclaimer in the spirit of harm reduction, I want to emphasize that the psychedelic adventure described in this post isn't something I'd suggest to others—it's risky to take drugs alone in nature, especially in a state park with potential legal ramifications, and sometimes I think the only reason I don't get caught is because I don't have a scraggly beard, a Subaru Outback with a "namaste" bumper sticker, or a single piece of clothing featuring Bob Marley.

That said, check out my post on 10 Tips from a Psychonaut for guidance on how to plan your own, safe psychedelic experience.

Enjoy!

---

I woke up at precisely 7:45 A.M. to the repetitious beep of my cell phone's alarm as I begrudgingly rolled over in my sleeping bag to turn it off. After a moment's pause, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to change out of my relatively warm pajamas, momentarily exposing my skin to the frigid morning air, as I hurriedly got dressed and packed up my tent just outside the perimeter of Canyonlands National Park, Utah.

Breakfast seemed too great a chore, and besides—instant oatmeal with dried fruit for breakfast was starting to lose its already limited appeal after nearly two weeks of camping in the American Southwest. That day though, I didn't need a hearty breakfast to motivate me out of my cocoon-like sleeping bag; I was giddy with excitement to consume magic mushrooms later that day at Goblin Valley State Park.

After loading the car with all my camping gear, I revved up the engine with the heater blasting and began the short drive over to Canyonlands National Park one last time to catch the sunrise.

Fortunately, nobody was in the parking lot as I pulled in and parked the car. As I sat watching the sunrise on a boulder overlooking the rocky canyon of sandstone needles below, which were warming in hue every minute as the sun finally peeked over the eastern horizon, I began to contemplate the psychedelic adventure which lay ahead in store for me. What do I want the focus of my trip to be? My mind responded simply and effortlessly: Just enjoy yourself.

There were no hidden recesses in my mind which demanded careful analysis or catharsis; I felt carefree, clearheaded and ready to head toward Goblin Valley and start shrooming!

Exploring an Alien Landscape

Right around 11:30 A.M. I pulled into the visitor center for Goblin Valley State Park and showed the ranger my yurt rental receipt, asking whether it might be possible to check in earlier than the usual 3 P.M. time. Luck was on my side: the previous guests had left early that morning, so I was free to get settled in with the entire day freed up for tripping. Thrilled, I drove a few minutes further into the park before pulling up in front of the yurt which would be my home until the following afternoon.

The landscape surrounding the yurt couldn't have captured my imagination more—the barren rock formations truly looked like scenery from another planet.

The lunar landscape revealed a rich geologic history, including siltstone, shale and sandstone stripes and bands, layered green-beige atop clay tones, undulating into reefs, fins, and other bizarre geological features, including, of course, the famous "goblins": eroded and weathered by an ancient inland sea, these misshapen, ghoul-faced boulders seemed evidence enough to me that Mother Nature has a sense of humor.

After quickly unpacking the car and lugging my belongings into the yurt, which was equipped with a little fireplace, dining room table, futon and bunkbed, I headed back outside to the nearby outdoor cooking area to eat a quick, belated breakfast and start brewing my psychedelic concoction.

I tossed 2.4 grams of Psilocybe cubensis into a pot of gently boiling water, added in a teaspoon of caffeinated guayusa tea and covered the pot, allowing it to simmer a few minutes before straining the amber liquid into a glass mason jar.

It was time to dose!

I quickly downed the magical beverage and moved over to the front deck of the yurt looking into my own private nook facing several “goblins” and siltstone valleys. I sat cross-legged in a foldable chair and gazed out into the strange world around me, waiting for the mushrooms' effects to become manifest.

About twenty minutes later, I began to feel the gentle and familiar onset of a psilocybin trip. I noticed I was grinning ear-to-ear at nothing in particular, and faint laughter involuntarily bubbled past my lips as I stood up, yawning and stretching as my senses started to deepen. Colors began to brighten in my field of vision and my legs wobbled slightly as I eased over to the backside of the yurt and began to explore the remarkable environment around me. I felt totally enchanted by my surroundings and as though I'd touched down on a distant, uninhabited planet.

Childlike Wonder and Joy

Slowly, the faces of the goblins began to come alive, their water-eroded crevices along the slippery canyon walls taking on an added dimensionality, appearing from afar to have melted into a gooey substance across their substrate rock. Immersed in this totally alien and wildly exotic environment, I felt over the moon and on it at the same time!

The temperature was cool and the sky was somewhat overcast—perfect lighting for taking photos, I thought. I darted back into the yurt to retrieve my camera and momentarily fumbled with its settings, my dexterity dulled somewhat by the effects of the mushrooms, before heading back outside to start photographing everything around me, wanting to capture this incredible moment and experience in my life.

I felt an irrepressible laughter well up inside me and let it freely echo against the canyon as I danced around impishly and victoriously, enraptured by the fact of existence and the joy of being alive.

I made my way down to the end of a nearby valley where I discovered a bench overlooking the nearby mesa and reefs next to several goblins. Pulling my hemp-furred hood over my cold ears, I sat at the bench for a while, not thinking about anything other than being totally absorbed by my surroundings and integrated into the present moment. It was pure pleasure, pure experience.

Slowly, the morning clouds parted, revealing instead an iridescent, bluest-blue-you-ever-saw sky. By now the psilocybin's effects were starting to hit their peak, and as I waved my hands in front of me, I noticed the foot-long tracers—ghostlike after-images—left in their wake. I examined my hands for a few minutes, marveling at the molecular masterpiece that is the human body—my body. Whoa. Yeah, I was definitely tripping.

Wobbling slightly but hoping my clean-cut appearance didn't betray the fact that I was rather high at this point, I meandered toward Goblin Valley proper a mile or two down the road where the majority of the goblins were located. Incredibly, the parking lot was empty, and as I looked down into the vast valley of innumerable alien rock figures down below, I realized with overwhelming joy that I'd have the entire area to myself!

A Planet of One's Own

I jogged down the staircase into the valley, exhilarated to be able to roam freely and climb up the goblins, jump across the sandy dunes and explore the park to my heart's fullest content. I felt elated beyond description as my inner emotional landscape began to transfigure into a childlike state of pristine wonder. There were unusual rock formations as far as the eye could see, and I couldn't help but laugh at the hilarity of the goblins' faces resembling magic mushrooms. This was the perfect place to trip.

I must have walked several miles over the next few hours, snaking in and out of the goblins, up and over them, to the left and winding ‘round until I got so far out that I could no longer see the visitor center or any trace of human civilization except for a few faint footprints preserved in sand. I was completely immersed in the psychedelic experience by this point as geometric patterns on the sandstone goblins before me spiraled, sub-divided and replicated, augmented across my field of vision.

I was acutely aware of my every movement, every thought, and every breath. I felt a profound sense of safety ensconced within the comfort of my own body and mind, and at the same time, I sensed an intimate connection to the seemingly animate landscape around me.

Looking inward, I noticed I felt a slight twinge of fear upon realizing how far I'd wandered into my secluded environment. What if I get lost? I wondered. No no, just pay attention to where you’re going, you'll be fine. But all these rocks are starting to look the same… I willed myself to snap out of it, reminding myself I was just tripping and did have a good sense of where I was.

Taking a short break from all my trekking, I sat on one of the goblins and began to vividly imagine what the area must have looked like 170 million years ago when it was an inland sea. My thoughts then instantly transported me into the imagined future as I envisioned what the area would look like in another hundred million years… The enormity of the power of the passage of time boggled my already addled mind.

Breaking out of my reverie, I noticed that the day was beginning to wane, and so I slowly made my way back toward where I thought and hoped the parking lot was. After walking about ten minutes, I recognized where I was and was able to retrace my steps the mile or two back to the staircase up toward the parking lot. I noticed several cars had pulled into the lot by then, but fortunately I still hadn't run into anyone and was left unimpeded as I began walking back toward my yurt, just as sunset was approaching.

Back to Earth

Stepping back into my abode, I felt as though I had lived there all my life and that I was a “yurt woman” home from a daring expedition on the sandy steppes outside. My mood was entirely hilarious at this point, and I called out comically in an Australian accent, “Honey, I’m home!” to my imaginary yurt-spouse. I laughed at my own entertaining charade as I began to rummage my camping cooler for food. Clearly I was starting to come down from the trip given that my previously absent appetite had suddenly returned full-force.

Not having eaten for hours, I crudely pulled out the wooden dining chair, sat down beside the table, and scarfed down some smoked salmon, a Fuji apple and whole-grain rice cakes.

The salmon was too orange and looked unnaturally luminescent; the lenticels on my apple were glittering and spiraling into faint paisly-shaped patterns; eating felt unusually laborious and oddly unappealing, but after finishing up my light dinner, I felt satiated and completely at peace—there was nothing in the world I desired in that wonderful moment.

I decided that then would be as good a time as any to smoke a joint, so I rummaged through my drug purse for my weed, papers and lighter.

Back outside I found a hidden nook in the canyon where I sat reclined on a boulder as I covered my blue Bic’s flame from a gentle breeze. Inhaling gently, I could taste the delicious floral notes of the marijuana as I mused on what an incredible, euphoric adventure I'd had that day. My mood gradually turned hypnotic as I found myself feeling wonderfully exhausted and ready for bed.

I ignited the little stove back in the yurt, hopped into my pajamas and crawled into bed where I shortly thereafter fell asleep smiling peacefully, grateful for what had been one of the best days of my life, reminiscent of the boundless joy of childhood and unfettered existence.