Lest We Forget

IN MEMORIUM
CHARLOTTE SMITH
JERRY GALVAN
JOHN TEBBY
EILEEN STROUD

-- As we ponder life & death & fly fishing, four good friends come to mind, and we remember them here.

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-- Charlotte Smith, neighbor and friend, is gone from us. We sent her to far flung places to fish with our flies. She enriched our life with tales of joy and bright fish. We miss her deeply and grieve with Larry. She and Larry owned and hosted Sleepy Hollow, the fly fishing retreat in West Yellowstone, Montana. I pass the house daily, the memories leap at me. Those of you that knew her were certainly buoyed by her spirit, as I was. (Sleepy Hollow)

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-- Jerry Galvan, friend, neighbor, fishing partner, and father to a fine family has departed. We fished with Jerry in a time long ago. The Owens River, Slough Creek, The Gualala, The Upper Sac, Pauma Creek, the memories are rich. We fished the bait recievers in San Diego Bay for baracuda, mackrel and bonito.
-- We prowled the lagoons and shorelines of Carlsbad, Encinitas, and Oceanside. We pounded the surf for corbina, surf perch, and once a very ugly needle fish. Farm ponds and decorative water invited us to the front lawns of Fallbrook, Carlsbad and Vista, they provided bass and bluegills - wherever there were fish we chased them.

--We once built a minature fly rod with very, very, small flies, (about 32's,) and tried for mosquito fish in the casting pond at Balboa Park in San Diego. Hot Creek, Hat Creek, both Walkers and the Truckee - it mattered not!
-- The San Diego river and a couple of it's tributaries hold bass - Jerry knew where to find them - in the shadow of Mission San Diego, or the shadow of the giant stadium, (whatever it's current name,) we pounded them, (joggers were perplexed.) All the San Diego lakes, (big bluegills on poppers,) the San Gabriel River, (trout & rattlesnakes,) even the Tiajuana River, (don't eat these fish,) there are many places to fish if you look - and if you grew up there.
-- We coursed the Owens River Ranch and John Arcalarius' place for giants. From downtown Hoopa to Arcata we scored and got skunked. Half-pounders were a passion for a while. The Mad, The Mattole, The Smith, The Cal-Salmon, the "Damn" Dusen, (from the top of the box cars,) they called and we came. The Russian River in muddy flood or dead dry gravel was always a challenge, (success came in the form of Bill Shadt.) We exercised flies from size 24 to 2xl 9/0 in fresh and saltwater.
-- During his last visit here we stayed in the crummy cabins at Roosevelt, in Yellowstone Park. We fished the raging plunge pool on the Yellowstone River below Teddy's camp, and Soda Butte, and the Lamar - across the bridge, and Slough Creek. We traded hats, joked and even caught fish.
-- Jerry loved bamboo, he enjoyed prairie dogs, he served his country and wore a bullet around his neck. He chased fish to the equator and back; always with a smile and always with success. His ashes are sprinkled on the Upper Sac that he loved so well. (Sierra Drifters)

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NORRIS WILL NEVER BE THE SAME

John Tebby, friend and colleague was happiest at work and loved Yellowstone in Winter and Summer. He is still here and awaiting the next eruption of Steamboat Geyser.
-- Thousands of visitors enjoyed the basin with him and his stories of the past and present and future.

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HER HOME AT THE STORE

-- Eileen Stroud: From an old bicycle shop, through bait and tackle with squid in the freezer, to one of fly fishing's premier gathering places, Eileen had seen and done it all. Secret flies and tying techniques, a hoard of materials dating from the Herter's era and before, knowledge of hooks, fishing locations, and a heart large as all outdoors and better than gold; she had it all.
-- We shared stories, and more for years. We shall miss her warmth and generosity. Her ashes rest at sea where she was Queen of the Kelp - jackpots-a-plenty came her way.
-- Stroud Tackle, in operation for nearly 40 years, will never be the same. Our thoughts are with Bill and the gang in San Diego. (Stroud Tackle)