, John Phillips delivers a Pythonesque travelog of his retirement from Michigan to remote Darby, Montana, (population475, no Starbucks, no traffic light). There, along the Continental Divide, Mother Nature sets out gasp-inducing scenery and also her best birds, bears, and brook trout. To this fauna-rich utopia Phillips adds broken snow plows, a reclusive ex-smuggler, threatening winters, electricity famines, and heartfelt ruminations about fly fishing, guns, survival, Darby's dress code (pre-owned grubby), forest fires, irritating neighbors, helpful neighbors, a voluptuous barber, Republicans (he found one good one), septic tanks, and alcohol. His wicked wit addresses both human frailties and environmental missteps, but through it all Phillips is wildly funny. -WILLIAM JEANES former Publisher of Road & Track and author of The Road to Pickletown