Valerie Leveroni Corral surveys medical cannabis plants from all over the world at one of WAMM Phytotherapies’ gardens, cultivated at a former Boy Scout Camp in unincorporated Santa Cruz County. Credit: Evelyn Nieves/InsideClimate News
Having survived a DEA raid, the co-founder of the first medicinal cannabis collective plots a comeback in the worst fire season in California history.
Before the pandemic, WAMM members had weekly get-togethers to discuss their lives—and often, impending deaths.
Bleich’s daughter had endured tortuous hospitalizations and at least 19 different anti-seizure drugs. Nothing helped. Her daughter was having hundreds of seizures a month. When her daughter was three-years-old, a Santa Cruz doctor suggested she get in touch with Corral, saying he was unfamiliar with how to administer cannabis to pediatric patients.
I’m standing in the most magical place I’ve ever been when I first hear about the dark side of the Golden State’s largest cash crop. For the best part of a week I’ve been shadowing Mike Taylor, one of the world’s most accomplished hunters of big trees. We’ve been combing the vast forests of northern California, searching for the largest things alive.
In 2006, Taylor, who must be the closest thing there is to an arboreal Indiana Jones, co-discovered the tallest known tree on the planet, a coast redwood named Hyperion.
The marijuana trade in a remote corner of California used to involve a few hippies living off the grid. Now it’s a $7 billion industry – and the epicentre of a series of killings and disappearances. A new documentary visits America’s lawless Emerald Triangle
Now he’s brought me to the Grove of Titans, a thicket hidden deep in the woods about 250 miles north of San Francisco. The place makes my skin prickle. The redwood before me, known