Armstrong remembered

There was nothing official about the funeral procession of boats rolling down the Mississippi River.

You would be hard-pressed to even call this a funeral, at least in a traditional sense. It would best be described as boats getting ready for a day of redfishing, all gathering at the mouth of Southwest Pass, where the Louisiana Marsh meets the lower Mississippi River.

A loose armada of boats, each with two to four anglers, coming together, to remember a friend. No pomp, no circumstance, certainly nothing official.

Chris Armstrong would have liked it that way.

Armstrong, a longtime illustrator for Bassmaster Magazine, died April 23, 2014, after a lengthy illness. His illustrations were known throughout the bass fishing and hunting world. See some of his illustrations here.  But in this group he was known more for his lively spirit and a commitment to friendship.

Each fall for the last 16 years, much of this group has gathered in Venice, La., for an event they call “Marsh Madness” to spend three days fishing the marsh for redfish or heading offshore to catch tuna. The Marsh Madness crew is made up of fishing industry manufacturers, writers and, of course, artists.

It started as a way to build relationships. It has become more of a reunion of industry stalwarts who just want to reconnect with what they refer to as the “Marsh Madness Family.”

It was this setting where Armstrong loved to be and insisted part of his ashes be spread. An equal part of those ashes had been spread earlier along a creek in Colorado, not far from the Continental Divide.

The differences in the two worlds (Colorado and Louisiana) summed up Armstrong in ways an illustration or word could never do justice. The beauty of the highest and lowest places in the country as imagined by him and witnessed by two different groups of people.

One group was in waders in a crystal-clear trout stream, the other in fiberglass boats sitting in the muddy Mississippi. The dichotomy of the artist and friend were present months after his passing.

In one instance, his ashes would eventually flow to the Colorado River and into the Pacific. In the other, they would march their way to the Atlantic.

Chris Armstrong would have liked it that way.

He actually planned it that way, going as far as putting together a sound track that best suited his personality.

With Joe Cocker rolling out “Hymn 4 My Soul,” there was at least a sense of being part of a memorial. But Jimi Hendricks cranking out “Red House” followed Cocker’s music and you could tell this wasn’t an ordinary memorial.

Chris Armstrong would have liked it that way.

While the tunes played, and despite the fact it was early morning, the anglers toasted Armstrong, most with their actions, others with a few warm words.  Mark Fisher, a long-time Marsh Madness attendee and formerly of Wiley X sunglasses, offered a word of prayer.

Eric Cosby of Top Brass Tackle, the coordinator of Marsh Madness, did the honors of opening the box that held the ashes. He, along with a few others in attendance, were part of the wader-wearing ceremony weeks earlier.

In as unceremonious a way as this ceremony could muster, Cosby began sprinkling the ashes. Not a word was said as the friends of the Marsh Madness Family quietly watched and the tunes switched to the Rolling Stones and “Tumbling Dice.”

A few moments later, every head raised and, just as quickly, every angler turned to go their own way, in search of redfish, thinking the whole time…

Chris Armstrong would have liked it that way.