As I write this, the sobering reality is that only a handful of fly shops remain in Southern California—a region of 24 million people. Three have closed their doors in just the last six months. Bucking this unfortunate trend is Stroud Tackle in San Diego, which is thriving for none of the reasons you might expect.
There’s no internet-based e-commerce business; it’s a true brick-and-mortar shop. There’s no fancy storefront—you wouldn’t notice it unless you had the address and were looking for it. There are no social media accounts run by high-profile marketing firms, no “store layout optimization,” no planograms, no merchandising metrics. The shop is, in fact, organized chaos, with nearly the entire inventory stored in one man’s head. Shoot, it doesn’t even have the words fly shop in its name.
What it does have is Rick Vorst—the owner and sole employee of Stroud Tackle, tucked off Sea World Drive in the heart of San Diego.
I’ve been to a lot of fly shops. It’s my thing. Whenever I’m in a new town, I make a point of visiting the local shop. I’ve been to fly shops on six of the seven continents. Off the top of my head, I can name six shops in Bozeman and five in Missoula—and I’ve been to all of them multiple times. I’ll admit I’m jaded, living in San Diego County, but my fly shop—Stroud Tackle—is the best. If not the best, it’s certainly the most unique. And without question, it’s the most fun to visit.
I make the trek to Stroud Tackle about once a month. It’s a brutal 30 miles on I-5—real traffic, San Diego style. Still, it’s always worth it. I inevitably buy things I don’t need just to hang out with Rick, and I’m far from alone. Rick Vorst is beloved. I’ve never once been in the shop when it was empty. There’s a whole legion of San Diego fly fishers who hang out there simply because of Rick. Some of the retirees seem to be there all day. I’ve told Rick more than once that he could make a fortune by putting a bar on top of the shop just to pacify all these folks.
Here’s a “for instance.”
I went down south to interview Rick for this article. He’s so modest that it took nearly a month of gentle pestering to secure 30 minutes before the shop opened at 10 a.m. Naturally, I was late—the I-5 was a nightmare. Caltrans had decided that closing two lanes during rush hour while standing around texting was a great idea.
When I finally arrived, I was riveted by Rick’s story. But at exactly 10 a.m., the first customer walked in. Then the second. Then the third. Number four was my buddy Stan, who serves with me on the board of the San Diego Fly Fishers club (SDFF). I asked, “What are you doing here?” Stan said, “Asking Rick to donate a door prize for the banquet.” Rick, mid-conversation with another customer, chimed in immediately: “Is a $100 gift certificate enough?”
That’s the kind of person Rick is.
Eventually, I had to apologize to the folks hanging out in the shop and ask if I could borrow Rick for just a few minutes to finish my questions.
The story of how Rick came to own Stroud Tackle is even more remarkable.
The shop opened in October 1970, founded by Bill and Eileen Stroud to serve San Diego’s saltwater conventional fishing community. As a 14-year-old kid obsessed with fishing, Rick would do anything to get on the water. If his dad couldn’t drop him at San Diego or Mission Bay for a $6 half-day boat, Rick rode his bike—from Serra Mesa. By my calculations, that’s well over an hour.
When Rick couldn’t fish, he hung out at Stroud Tackle. Eventually, Bill gave him small jobs—sweeping, dusting, whatever needed doing. Rick wasn’t on payroll, but Bill would sometimes buy him lunch or slip him fishing gear or a little cash, saying, “Hide this.”
In the mid-1980s, Stroud Tackle transitioned into a fly-fishing shop—the only one in San Diego at the time. It made sense given the competition from conventional tackle stores, Bill’s reputation for building custom fly rods, and Eileen’s upbringing fly fishing in Oregon. But the San Diego Fly Fishers club, which met on city-owned property, didn’t allow women members. Bill refused to join without Eileen. Eventually, the city stepped in, telling the club they could either admit women or stop meeting on city property. The club relented. Some grumpy old men quit—in short order, Bill became president of the club. Under his leadership, SDFF flourished, growing to more than 300 members.
All the while, Rick kept riding his bike to the shop, taking on any task Bill handed him. Bill and Eileen became a second set of parents. Even into his 20s, while working in the “real world,” Rick continued to help at the shop whenever he could.
Professionally, Rick climbed the corporate ladder to an executive role at an interior design and construction firm. Still, he spent his free time at Stroud Tackle—building shelves, stocking inventory, running the register. Always unpaid.
In the mid-2000s, Rick left his VP role to become “Mr. Mom,” supporting his wife Liz’s career, which required frequent travel between San Diego and San Francisco. By 2006, Eileen’s health was failing, and Bill asked Rick to take on more of the shop’s day-to-day operations.
As Eileen’s health continued to decline, Rick became one of her primary caregivers—lifting her when she fell, administering morphine in the middle of the night. There was only so much Bill could do at his age. Eileen passed away in February 2009. Bill was devastated.
The shop had been closed for six months. To help Bill move forward, Rick suggested, “Let’s open back up!” With Liz’s support, Rick ran the business while his daughter was in school—still unpaid, of course. A year later, Rick realized he loved it. He asked Bill to sell him the shop. Bill refused repeatedly, saying, “You don’t want to do this.”
Rick was insistent that he did, and with Bill’s health declining at 94 years of age, Rick offered to buy the business a few more times. Bill always resisted.
Then, one afternoon in 2011, Bill asked Rick “Let’s go to lunch. But I want to stop by the lawyer’s office on the way.” Rick had never been to a lawyer before. He was vetted with questions like, “What is your relationship with Bill Stroud?” and “How long have you known Bill?” then ushered into a conference room and handed documents transferring ownership of the business and property to him.
He was stunned.
“Rick, just sign it,” the lawyer said. “I’ve already talked to Bill at length about this.”
Bill passed away in 2012. Rick has been running Stroud Tackle ever since.
We’ve all heard the phrase “Support your local fly shop,” usually implying a sacrifice—paying a little more. But you won’t get better advice or a better deal than at Stroud Tackle. “Bill was the master of down-selling,” Rick says. When a beginner walks in convinced they need a $1,200 rod, Rick gently guides them to something far more appropriate—and affordable.
Rick also gives out his personal phone number freely. Calls and texts come at all hours. He’ll open the shop late at night or early morning if someone is in a bind.
I know this firsthand. Before a trip to the Eastern Sierra, I discovered the coating on my fly line was failing. Online options were disappointing. Rick said, “I don’t have that line, but I can overnight it and drive it to you.” I told him, “You are not driving to Carlsbad.” That’s just who Rick Vorst is.
Stroud Tackle is my fly shop, and I’m proud of it. It succeeds without an online presence, social media, or modern retail strategy—relying instead on one man’s integrity, generosity, and deep love for the community. If you’re ever in San Diego, stop by and say hello. Spend some time staring at the walls—55 years of fly-fishing history and memorabilia. Ask Rick about any of it.
He’ll send you off with a story worth keeping.
