I went through a phase a long time ago of knocking back larger and larger quantities of magic mushrooms, the psylocybin ones. One day I had the bright idea of filling in an empty fortnight by hitch-hiking to the north pole. I knew there was an arctic ocean in the way, but without looking at a map, I wasn't sure how far I could go up there, so I didn't look at a map on purpose.
Money was tight, and I didn't even possess a coat, but I went anyway taking a ferry from Newcastle to Bergen. It was raining when I arrived, and I found a place to sleep under a road works trailer - where some kind person had stashed a set of waterproofs...
Turns out Norway ends at Nordkap, an unspectacular place, but a spectacular trip getting there. Also, in the Arctic at the end of October, it gets down to -20 which made sleeping out (no tent, 2 sleeping bags) quite a thing.
Nearly home after a drug and alcohol free two weeks, I was dropped off outside the Norwegian king's palace, and security seeming non-existent, had a look round the garden. There I found a fly agaric, and insanely, thought it might be interesting to try some. I ate half the cap. It was late afternoon. I remember feeling unwell. Then I remember waking up in the rain, in my sleeping bag in a bed of nettles.
That was it for me and magic mushrooms. The madness had to stop. The sea helped.
