{"id":89380,"date":"2026-03-27T14:53:36","date_gmt":"2026-03-27T13:53:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lemouching.com\/?p=89380"},"modified":"2026-03-27T16:55:05","modified_gmt":"2026-03-27T15:55:05","slug":"jim-harrison-march-26-2016","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lemouching.com\/en\/2026\/03\/jim-harrison-march-26-2016\/","title":{"rendered":"JIM HARRISON – MARCH 26 2016"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

A the time, we took it right in the face, the death of Jim Harrison \u2014 we owe him so much. It was just ten years ago. We woke up a little groggy when we heard the news. Big Jim, the guy to whom Le Mouching owes so much.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

To make a long story short: in the early 90s, I was gripped by a kind of wild madness, an unconditional love \u2014 almost a mystical adoration \u2014 for Jim Harrison’s books, which I devoured one after another. Everything fascinated me: the freedom, the intimate stories, the wide open spaces, the Native American dream, that particular feeling you got when reading his novels of being suddenly connected to something both human and supernatural. And then there was that constant relationship with nature and the lives of men, which took on such an important place amid those vast landscapes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So in ’92, during a trip to California, I met a girl who asked me to go with her to Livingston, Montana. My heart leapt. Barely had she spoken those words than my ideal became reality. I pushed open the door of a fly shop in San Francisco and, to my great surprise, ran into the owners, who listened to me with my Aveyron accent as I explained that I was headed to Montana and needed a rod, a reel, and everything that goes with it (I hadn’t a clue…). The saleswoman looked at me and said with a smile, in perfect French, “You’re not from around here, are you?” She was Basque. She guided me through my purchases and told me I should buy my flies “over there.” I walked out with a graphite Sage, a fully rigged reel, and a smile stretching from ear to ear. Montana, here I come!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And that’s how it all started. Later, when I was working at Radio Nova in Paris in ’93, Jim Harrison was expected in the studio to talk about the film that Brice Matthieussent and Georges Luneau had made about him. For me it was a dream opportunity. I gave him some Quatre Ailes flies by Jean-Pierre Poireau and a beautiful sourdough loaf baked in a wood-fired oven by Le Moulin de la Vierge \u2014 at the time, the best country bread in the city. He was delighted and surprised. We then discovered that he knew Le Moulin de la Vierge’s bread well, because he was friends with Lulu, the chef of the famous restaurant L’Assiette, right across from the bakery on rue du Ch\u00e2teau in the 14th arrondissement \u2014 and that he was a regular there every time he was in Paris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cranked wheel : Automatic translation -> English<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n