DMT In the Fjords

We were on boss trip in Norway. One evening, we had live musicians come play on the aft deck for the guests and crew. The owner let us have some drinks, and it slowly turned into a proper party. It was stunning—music echoing through the fjords, the summer sunset glowing over calm waters. Total tranquility.

As the night went on, the owner and his wife went to bed, and their kids stayed up partying with us. Eventually, even the kids turned in. It ended up being just myself and one of the deckhands left.

He was a full-on stoner—wild guy. We were drunk, and he looked at me and said, “Hey, want to smoke a joint?” I figured, why not? So we headed down to the swim platform. It was dead quiet, stars above, the still water of the fjord around us. We sparked up a joint, it was surreal. Exactly what I wanted after a gnarly few weeks on trip.

Then he turns to me and goes, “Hey dude… I have some DMT. Want to smoke it?” I probably should’ve said no. But I was drunk, high, and in the mood for whatever. So I said, “Fuck it, lets do it.” So there we were: me (the chief officer) and the deckhand, sitting on the swim platform at anchor in the middle of the night, somewhere deep in the fjords of Norway… smoking DMT out of a Coke can. One of those memories I’ll never forget. Probably shouldn’t have happened—but I’m damn glad it did.