Near the west end of North Lombard Street, on the farthest fringes of the St. Johns business district, is Club Sky High, a small, full-service dispensary that specializes in a unique cannabis product typically reserved for the stoniest of stoners: moon rocks.
For the uninitiated, a moon rock is a half-to-single-gram nug that’s been saturated in cannabis extract and encrusted with weed crystals. As the name suggests, moon rocks are created with the intention of generating astronomical highs—or, in the case of non-psychotropic strains, powerfully potent hits—and Club Sky High takes particular pride in its version, going so far as to brand its store “Home of the Moon Rocks.”
Club Sky High features two strains currently: Dawg Cookies and Wedding Cake. Naturally, we had to try both, even if it kept us stoned for the rest of the week…more stoned than usual, anyway.
Moon rocks have always been a niche, hard-to-find item. As dabbing and vaping continue to rise in popularity, the pre-rec appeal of space nugs feels even more nostalgic. But moon rocks are more than just a sentimental way to indulge in nostalgia for the prohibition era: The high they produce is unique, and well worth any varsity stoner’s attention.
WW auditioned both in-stock varieties of Club Sky High’s moon rocks and found that the complexity of a whole plant steeped in full-spectrum concentrates and blanketed in a cashmere layer of sparkling kief offered distinct highs that measured up to even the headiest of high-potency dabs or edibles.
Strain: Dawg Cookies, 51.41% THC
I took this indica-leaning moon rock with me to share with my crew while we watched the season premiere of RuPaul’s Drag Race Down Under. As the new class of Australian queens walked into the workroom, I took note of each of my squad’s current resting states. Homie #1 had already puffed a half-gram joint and was now sipping a hard seltzer. Homie #2 was operating on the same level, but had also eaten an edible he was hoping would kick in mid-episode. Homie #3 and I were both fundamentally sober, having not smoked at all for at least a few hours. Homie #4 is California sober and has successfully been using cannabis as a tool for his sobriety. He had a joint that he relit every 10 to 15 minutes to take a single hit, and then put it out again. He was not a fan of the terminology in play as I packed a lineup of glass pipes with fat rocks, which was understandable. We started calling them “asteroids” instead.
The asteroid I brought to share was a full gram, and surprisingly, it was more than enough for the five of us. I used a pair of small scissors to break it apart, and the nug cut easily. The look of these “rocks” implied some level of rigidity, and I was prepared for a chunk to shoot out from under the blade like a shard of rock candy, but I found the scissors cut through the bud pretty easily. One gram-sized moon rock comfortably filled the individual bowls of five different smokers, twice. I was duly impressed with the density.
As soon as Homie #1 took her first hit, she turned to me and said, “I can’t believe how fast I just got high.” Her onset hit her like a bolt of electricity, and she was stunned with both the potency and the nuance of the high. She was chatty and giggly, but not obnoxiously so. Her high seemed both manageable and uplifting.
Homie #2′s edible began to percolate around the same time he lit his first bowl, but despite that double-decker onset, he never seemed over-intoxicated or inarticulate. His moon-rock hits seemed to play relatively well with the cannabis already working through his system, which we all agreed was a bonus. Homie #3 and I were both in and out of canna-tonic states, not quite couch-locked but still a bit too stoned to divide our attention between studying and discussing the drag queens.
I spent the rest of the evening leaning into my television tunnel vision, but retained nothing and had to rewatch the whole episode the next day. Homie #5 quit his pipe after one hit, deciding that this particular product was outside of his realm of understanding, and he was far more comfortable relighting the same joint for an hour. He’d save the blasting off for the rest of us.
The high was notably long lasting. The program played for more than an hour, and by the time we said our goodbyes, maybe two hours after our first hits, I was still feeling like a cartoon astronaut. My stroll home felt like a weightless space walk. I slept soundly and woke refreshed the next morning.
Strain: Wedding Cake, 48.44% THC
Wedding Cake is also an indica-leaning hybrid with just enough sativa genetics to keep the high creatively engaging. Typically, I would choose a strain like this for weekend shenanigans, so it stood to reason that puffing a bowl of this moon rock first thing Sunday morning would ensure a proper kickoff to my day of rest.
Without a squad to engage with, I was compelled to explore my high with a more focused lens than I had the night before. I used the same simple pipe, not wanting to accidentally suck the meat of a good moon rock into the downstem of my bong. I invited my partner to join me for the smoke session, and although he enthusiastically agreed, I could see him reconsidering when he saw how the first hit affected me. While I found the hits to be relatively gentle the night before, my first pull of the pipe this Sunday morning punched me in the chest with the same frame-rattling intensity of my very first dab. I clutched my psychological pearls, took a knee on the floor of my basement stone zone, and moaned out loud, “Whyyyyy?!”
By the time I got myself together enough to stand back up, my partner had finally psyched himself up enough to take his own first hit. He was not nearly as knocked out as I was. In fact, he took his one hit in stride and continued going about the rest of his day in a cloud of mellow contentment perfectly on brand for his particular flavor of stoner dad. It’s worth noting that his one hit comprised maybe 1/18th of the total weight of the nug. Lightweight.
Myself, I took several more hits, maybe smoking a quarter gram by myself. Just like last night’s nugs, each hit had the mouthfeel of dank weed, the earthy aroma of blended kief, and the terp-heavy finish of concentrate. Once the intense onset relaxed, my high began to blossom into something softer. It developed into something cushiony yet elastic and soupy yet creative, I was chilled out, but I was also comfortably wading in a sea of psychotropia. I was relaxed but also thrilled by each tiny pleasure I came across. It was, in essence, the perfect high for a purposefully lazy Sunday. Without the overstimulation of the night before, the high was far more manageable, and while these were fun to share with the squad, there was also great value in smoking them without social distraction.
When you want to get astronomically high in a way more complex and multifaceted than you might with extracts, concentrates or flowers alone, there are only moon rocks. And both Club Sky High’s varieties were worth the tunnel vision, the chokeslam, and my husband’s side eye as I Tebowed the basement floor.
BUY IT: Club Sky High 8975 N Lombard St., 503-719-5801, clubskyhigh.net.