DANGEROUS DAN
As we shoved off, I sensed only that launching the drift boat, or any boat for that matter, had been a hasty call, one that was unimpeachably mine. Rock Creek several Junes ago was treacherously high. It was also the first time I saw Dan Lahren row a drift boat. Having guided since the 1970s on burly Western rivers, Lahren was the right companion to have aboard.
For all but the least sensible, Rock Creek is raft water in June; we had chosen the drift er, though, because our fishing partner and mutual friend Jim Harrison had grown too old and unstable to fish out of a rubber boat. At peak runoff, with its boulder gardens covered by stained water, a Western freestone like Rock Creek in southwest Montana can appear deceptively innocuous and, with its relative absence of obstacles, can lull even a seasoned guide into a mistaken sense of confidence.
I took the oars initially, and the Clacka felt shot from a sling. Despite my heaving, the quaking alders and willows blurred by. The oarlocks nearly smoked. Kicked loose from the banks by rising water — the result of a thunderstorm in the headwaters, the severity of which we had underestimated — sediment and in-stream particulate ticked against the fiberglass bottom. Holding lies passed by like apparitions. From the bow seat, aiming well downstream, Harrison made a sharp cast with a weighted streamer, which landed, due to our warping speed, even with the port oar. On a straightaway, I
