A River Runs Through It

Like many [river guides in the north west] where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I [have often run rivers in] the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the [Salmon River] and [the steady two-count rhythm of my paddle strokes] and the hope that [I will always] rise [to make this journey]. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through [my life]. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.
—Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It (1976) with Loren Lambert's words added to his