Jim Harrison was many things to many people, but at his core, he was a force of nature—a man whose presence carried the weight of his talents, passions, and eccentricities. Though he couldn’t move tectonic plates or conjure tidal waves, his impact on those around him came close. 

Harrison and his longtime friend, author Thomas McGuane, crossed paths with Jimmy Buffett in Key West in 1972. Buffett, fresh from a rejection in Nashville, and Harrison, an already published poet from Michigan, found themselves on similar trajectories. McGuane, who introduced the two, had an uncanny knack for recognizing kindred spirits. 

In those days, Key West was a magnet for misfits, and its energy suited Harrison perfectly. Though he didn’t live there full-time, he visited often, drawn by the spring tarpon runs. Fishing on the flats wasn’t about conquest but communion—a chance to match wits with 100-pound fish in their own waters. Gyms were unheard of in their world; the only exercise was the rhythm of life, whether casting a line or raising a glass. 

News of Harrison’s passing came as he might have wanted it: at his desk, writing. The grief was tempered by gratitude that he had remained active and creative until the end. As McGuane later wrote, Harrison “was the least suited for assisted living,” a sentiment anyone who knew him would echo. 

Memories of their escapades came flooding back: the making of Tarpon, a cult-classic fishing documentary; the summers at Livingston’s Raw Deal Ranch, where Hollywood beckoned with Rancho DeLuxe; or nights at Pine Creek cabins, where Harrison once cooked venison ragout while Richard Brautigan boiled his boots in broth on the adjacent burner. 

There were the Paris days, living like kings in a castle, and cross-country road trips in Harrison’s Ford Cortina, sharing dreams and visions of America. Key West, Montana, Arizona—wherever Harrison was, his spirit and creativity left a mark. 

Harrison embraced his Hollywood success, enjoying its perks without losing the grit that defined him. Even as his lifestyle raised concerns—his smoking and drinking seemed like reckless defiance—he lived on his own terms. Against all odds, he lived longer than many expected, a testament to his unyielding spirit. 

Now, Harrison’s legacy lives on in his work, a body of poetry and prose that captures a worldview as unique as the man himself. His children and grandchildren will carry his words forward, while his admirers rediscover his genius. 

After hearing the news of Harrison’s death, Buffett sought solace in the water. Swimming against the current and then letting it carry him back, he found comfort in the rhythm of the waves, singing the chorus of a song that had resonated just days before at a Rolling Stones concert in Havana. The lyrics seemed to fit both the moment and the memory of Harrison, a man whose life was as wild and unforgettable as the places he loved.