The "METH" in Mammeth

In 2005, the methamphetamine pandemic in California caused more than 77,000 people to check themselves into publicly funded treatment centers, representing a full 40% of treatment admissions in the nation, according to the California Department of Alcohol and Drug Programs. Among them, 48.9% had their first meth experience between the ages of 14 and 20, with the highest percentage of first-time use occurring between ages 14 and 15.

In Nevada, the number of meth users presenting themselves to state-funded treatment centers surpassed the number of alcoholics in 2002, according to the Reno Gazette Journal (1/9/07).

Mono County has been far from exempt, according to Ann Gimpel, County Mental Health Director and Alcohol Drug Administrator. "I can tell you meth is a problem here," she said. Unlike other counties, however, she indicated that "we still have more alcohol users than methamphetamines users--and that is not generally true statewide."

From the perspective of the casual observer, on the other hand, there might not even be a meth problem at all. "I just don't hang out with people who do meth," said a young man who asked to remain anonymous. "It's more socially acceptable for people to do coke," added his friend Jon, 19, who came to Mammoth Lakes last year for the snowboarding. "Meth is different."

We Were in Charge

H.H., 20, also of Mammoth Lakes, has been clean for 2½ years. She also tried methamphetamines for the first time when she was 12.

"My friend invited me over to get high so I brought my weed, but they were smoking pink stuff off tin foil," she said. The first hit was euphoric.

"My eyes got big and I felt strong and confident and attractive. I felt like my 'friends' were truly my friends and everything was good. It was amazing; I was on top of the world; I felt really free. I had the strength; I had the power--we were in charge."

For six years she used on a daily basis. The exploits she recounts during that time include staying awake for 32 days in a row, cooking up dope herself, fraternizing with questionable people, overdosing three times and being left on the floor for dead by her "friends," and other things unfit for print.

"By 2004, the situation meth put me in was terrible," she said. "You had to find the meth just to feel good, and you had to go to bizarre lengths to get it. My whole persona had changed. I went from being innocent to fully guilty."

Ungodly Medicine

While the story varies from person to person, it is almost always a difficult one.

"Meth is a wicked drug," one man told me, shaking slightly, after agreeing to an anonymous interview on the condition that his life lesson be used to educate rather than condemn. "It makes you think it's not the drug that's creating the havoc in your life. It's your family, your loved ones--it makes you think it's your best friend and everyone else is your enemy."

By "havoc," he was talking about a near-complete reversal of all the strides he had taken in his life before meth. At age 19 he was excelling at work, had two cars, and kept his rent and bills paid. An avid church-goer, he was a model for other teenagers, serving as a youth leader and street evangelist. He even helped to build an orphanage in Mexico. "I brought people to know the Lord," he said.

At age 22, he tried a line of cocaine with his girlfriend's coworkers. "Wait, before you do this, you can't hold me responsible for what happens afterwards," the girl had said.

"I thought she was talking about immediately afterwards--not about the rest of my life. It completely changed my existence." Meth came into the picture a few months later. "A tiny line...was all it took," he said.

Before long, months slipped away and turned into eight long years spent in and out of jail, marked by missed birthdays, mountains of bills, poor health, and an existence defined by a never-ending pursuit of the drug. Later, he says, he came to the Eastern Sierra to start a new life.

"My mom always told me as the older brother I needed to set an example," he said. "'I'm not the example,' I told her, 'I'm the lesson.'"

A Prescription for the Masses

For the overactive brain, meth can be good medicine and is often used as such. The drug was prescribed in the 1950's to treat ailments including narcolepsy, symptoms of Parkinson's Disease, alcoholism, depression, and obesity. From 1942 until his death in 1945, Nazi leader Adolf Hitler was given daily injections as a treatment for depression and fatigue. Today, Ritalin and other meth-like stimulants including Adderall and Dexedrine are prescribed to children as young as three years old, often as treatment for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).

According to www.lifeormeth.org, "Pressure is mounting for Ritalin and other meth-like stimulants...to be banned amid fears that America is spawning a nation of docile 'zombie kids.'" The website also faults the US Air Force for "routinely [supplying] speed to pilots in the form of Dexedrine ('go-pills'), which has been implicated in several 'friendly fire' deaths."

To take the edge off when meth was not available, H.H. resorted to alcohol, cocaine--and Adderall and Ritalin, although they were hardly strong enough to do the trick. She confesses to being misdiagnosed and treated with Ritalin as a kid. "I think that's why I got turned on to uppers. I got used to being awake and being productive," she said.

Jared, 30, is convinced that the pharmaceutical industry is part of a bigger picture of a government that uses drugs to control people. "My dad takes pain pills (OxyContin) and gets sick when he gets off them. He used to be a warrior; now he's a complainer. Government pharmaceutical drug dealers turned my father into a heroine junky in pill form."

Unlike prescription drugs, street meth has a nasty stigma attached to it, and in many cases not without reason. "Some people steal, lie, and do anything and everything imaginable to get another hit," one long-term user told me. "That person has hit a very low point in life."

From Rock Bottom to Recovery

After years of avoiding the police, ironically, both local girls have law enforcement to thank for putting them on the road to recovery. "Now that I look back on it, I'm so thankful I got arrested," S.G. said. "I don't ever want to go back." She tells her story now in the hopes that others will listen and follow suit. "We both have friends that are out there, and we are willing to do anything to get them back," she said.

As a provision of the Substance Abuse Crime Prevention Act, treatment is available in lieu of incarceration, primarily for first and second time offenders, and H.H. is one of its success stories. But others have been in an out of the system for years. I asked: "If you could change the system to be more supportive of people's recovery, what would you do?"

"Drug abuse should be handled as a disease or disability like depression, or Down Syndrome," one man told me. "I would make treatment a nice experience where people could get educated about the severities of drug use and abuse. Instead they just put us in a cage and treat us like we're nothing."

"Historically, California has not been about rehab as much as it has been about punishment and then kicking [addicts] back into society," said a So Cal man, 34, who was once intimately involved in the biker gang scene and a heavy meth user between the ages of 15 and 25. Since then, he has reinvented himself, is gainfully employed, and enjoys occasional ski visits to Mammoth Lakes.

"There's a good life after meth," H.H. says--her message hopeful despite her struggle against liver and kidney problems, nightmares, and anxiety attacks. "I like who I am now."

Paradise Lost?

Many people come to the Eastern Sierra--with its picturesque views, clean air, quiet nights, and friendly people--to get away.

Unfortunately, when it comes to access to methamphetamines, the temptation is still there. As local girl S.G. quipped, "I don't remember when meth wasn't around."

For one man, however, moving to the Eastern Sierra has made a difference. "This place is way healthier. There's not a lot of crime. I no longer do a teener to an eight-ball a day because the Sierras showed me how to enjoy life," he said.

"Are you done with dope, then?" I asked him point-blank.

He sighed, lit a cigarette, and looked at me for a minute before answering: "Tomorrow's another day. It's tough. You can't answer that question honestly. If you don't want to hear the answer, don't ask the question. I would like to have never have started it in the first place."