After escaping from the Mounties, I holed up at CFP for a few days till the heat was off.

There were turkeys and congealed nachos and excessive pine cones and visits to both the Davenport Hotel and Camp Hope. There was an Iron Goat and a Flying Goat. There were beers and limojitos and panther cookies and Alcalde’s hobomobile and songs about Cataldo. But most of all, there were The Country Bears.

Then I went home.