Ghost Train Haze by H.O.C.

toasted n’ posted proudly presents…

Ghost Train Haze by House of Cultivar

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Ghost Train Haze by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted! Today, we have a strain that always gets me feeling giddy. Ghost Train Haze is the name and blissful disorientation is often the game. A powerful cross of Ghost OG and Neville’s Wreck makes this strain a force to be reckoned with. While Ghost OG has carved away a special nook in each of our hearts, Neville’s Wreck is the lesser known cross of Arcata Trainwreck and Neville’s Haze. This maelstrom of genetic magnificence was procured by House of Cultivar, leading to our enjoyment today. All aboard the Ghost Train for some light ‘hazing’.

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I plunge my nose into the jar only to be scathed by righteous fumes of hazy vigor. Roasted by the sweet succulence of the tropics, my wounds are dusted by a salve of sylvan mist and frosted cool. A chilled touch of unmetered invigoration awakens my heart. The aroma strikes like a lightning bolt sanded smooth and stained with the juices of tropical pulp.

The fruity quality is so pronounced, yet delicate, it reminds me of strawberry or apple juice. Whatever discerning identity that may be present, is augmented into ambiguity as soon as it is touched by the licks of domineering haze. An all-consuming river of luscious damp drowns my nostrils. My eyes roll back into my head, overwhelmed by the swarming pleasure. My being drips with the sweet tincture reminiscent of fresh honey and Mountain Dew.

I sever the bud in hopes of unearthing more feathery fruit. A resurgence of vibrant zest plumes through my nostrils. I reel backwards as I am ripped apart by the shrapnel of haze-doused citrus. The spiked wake chases the tangy jolts hammering my senses with a spicy slime. The ferocious candy closely emulates the pungent kiss of Sunny D.

Ghost Train Haze builds into ornate mounds of scraggly green. Frosted lime cascades into worn moss and desperate pine. A weathered white aura imbues its phantasmal glow unto the pale foliage below. While the bud structure does seem to entertain a mild density, the rioting petals fan over each other creating a crystalline canopy. Jagged spires erupt from the face of Ghost Train Haze, weaving wild constructs into a chaotic constellation. Draping over the haphazard arrangements of petals are thin lengthy stigmas. The starved hairs rake over the foliage like singed orange eyelashes.

Trichomes stand in close succession brandishing their milky globes. The resin glands appear to cluster most intensely upon the ridges and perimeters of the flowers. Ghost Train Haze appears as if its foliage was traced with white-out. The trichomes stand especially tall; a legion of lighthouses intent on trapping eager eyes. An aggressive squeeze collapses the spine canopy to discover a reinforced core. There is an impressive density to be discovered within the mantle of the bud. The physical traits of Ghost Train Haze are indicative of a 65/35 hybrid in favor of sativa.

Leaf to flame, I feel as though I took an enormous bite out of a tree trunk wrapped in fruit roll-ups. The tart precursor is chased by the crackling peppery bark of spiced candy. The smoke that dwells in my lungs seems to combust and expand, nourishing the fiery assault. The roasted fumes waver between a honed minty leaf and effervescent earth. The electrified slurry entertains an odd licorice bounce.

The culminations reminds me of a tangy mouthwash. Ghost Train Haze conjures flavor that is long lasting and that dissipates cleanly. The bowl finishes into a dry rind of beached wood as a heavy slag is dragged across my tastebuds. The trail fills with a slick syrup. Every crevasse of my tongue is flooded with punishing sweetness. The eternal spirit of this tincture eventually dies into remains of smoky herb and gushing fruit.

The high instantly awakens a bolt of divine energy that launches through my eyes to my  heart. The eyes of my perspective are ripped open as if I could view foreign dimensions. My pool of thought has become boundless in this instant. My cluttered mind has been paved into a clean slate on which new ambitions can thrive.

I continue to ride the emotional riptide as rocketing euphoria rushes through my extremities. My eyes shake as they cloud with foggy comfort. An invisible avalanche falls over my eyelids making them impossibly heavy. I stand bewildered at the nexus of my conflicting senses. My eyelids are drawn shut, but my indomitable spirit continues to build. I feel the phrase “lightning in a bottle” comes into play here. I feel my soul exploding and ricocheting through my body. Exponential excitement limited and restrained by my physical limitations.

My overflowing spirit gushes aimlessly through the corridors of my sealed form.  Intense exhilaration storms my heart and pseudo-adrenaline shocks my veins awake. My joints feel loosened, greased with ease. My spine feels like it has been transmuted into jellyfish membrane. My thoughts drift onto wild tangents, I focus intently on impossible circumstances chasing an illusion of alternate reality. Exhausted, I feel the consequences for the periods of unwilling exertion. Eyes heavier than ever, I fall backward grasping tightly to the withered wisp of my remaining energy.

Ghost Train Haze is a wild ride intended for only the craziest of conductors. This is exactly the sensation I seek in a powerful sativa. Full-bodied with an intense rollercoaster of mental stimulation. For an uplifting rocket, there can be no substitute. Be sure to snag some Ghost Train Haze the next time you see it on your retail shelf. As always, thanks for reading.

Ghost Train Haze score: 98/100 points

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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