spent many good nights there. Drop a tab, drag a palet down that sandy hill, bonfires commence, ( enter crazy shit here ), 8 hrs later driving back on 17 still permagrinned....
Me too. Never went to the historic Full Moon Parties (which apparently started at Baker Beach in San Francisco.) during the early rave days- By then I had moved to San Diego. Went down there hella times during high school in the 80s. I remember droping acid at some point on the 17 and peaking by the time I got there. It was a cold foggy night (typical July/Aug) night so the amount of cars parked off Highway 1 was obscured. I remember hearing muffled noise over that little hill you walked up and then getting to the top and seeing what looked like a sea of humanity partying down there in the cove. Hella kegs and good vibes- people were cool, you could go to any keg and someone would give you a beer. Lost my ride but found them at dawn when they were getting ready to get ready to cut out- as faces stoped looking as alien like, melting, like masquarade masks in the lights of the bon fires. They figured I had either drowned, hooked up with a girl (the most unlikely scenario for me back then especially while dosing), or found a ride back.
Another time I was the driving solo late. I was going to find my friend's bon fire. I began dosing so hard that I became disoriented and was frying so hard took off early- kinda trippin on all the people. By some miracle I found my car. I felt that I was frying to hard to take the 17. It never occured to me to back track down to Castroville, take the 146 or whatever that freeway is, and link up with the 101 N. So I drove north on the 1 until I got to the City, missed the on ramp to the 280 so I took 19th ave or whatever that street is. Went across the Golden Gate Bridge as Sun was rising- one of the most beautiful sun rises ever. Took the Richmond Bridge and made a pit stop in Berkley. Went to Telegraph Ave and People's Park and kinda tripped on the whole early morning surreal hippie/punk/freak asthetic that existed there at that time. Bought alittle bag of bud which helped ground me and continued back to San Jose. Irony was, I ended taking the 17 home after all:D, however that section of it had long since been renamed the 880. This was summer of 88'.
Last story was 4th of July, I guess 89'. Again frying on acid- this time got there during day time. So many fireworks were going off and some people were acting like jackasses so i think there were some injuries which kinda ended the fireworks on a mass scale at Bonny Doon for a while. Anyway, I remember it was insane, like being in a combat zone, or vietnam war movie....
that place was magical, had a certain energy about it that brought people together, plus its unique legal status that happered the authorities in some way.
But with the alcohol and the 17- amazing I survived into adulthood. Had some crazy weakend nights out there.