Fly Fishing Edmonton

 

This page is dedicated to my father; David. T. Monteith, a recipient of the "Star Of Courage" medal.

He taught me patience, a love for sports and the outdoors, that my brains are not in my feet, and to many lessons in life to mention.

He was a hero to his country, a proud Canadian, an expert fly-angler, an accomplished golfer, a great curler and more than often, a grumpy old fart. He is sorrowfully missed.

 

 

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How I got started

My name is Mike Monteith, also known as Doc on my two message boards. I've been asked quite a bit how I got the name Doc and it's a long story. I will say it came about from my old Disc Jockey handle "Dr.Teith", which was given to me after a character on the Muppet Show (the one that blew everything up). I owned and operated a nightclub in West Edmonton on Stony Plain Road called Santannas Party House from 1994 - 2006 and was the manager of the north side Fishin' Hole after that.   I'm the Administrator/Moderator for the "Fishin' Alberta Message Board", I own and administrate the "Alberta Fly Fishing Forum", I own a fly-fishing guiding service called "Edmonton Stillwater Adventures", I edit and produce a site called "Float Tube Fly Flishing" and I'm a director for both the Edmonton Chapter of Trout Unlimited and FESA (the Fisheries Enhancement Society of Alberta) .

I like to consider myself an experienced fly angler but many years away from a fly-fishing "GOD". My father on the other hand was more than experienced and the title of expert would have described him quite well.  He used to guide on his home waters; the famous Miramichi River in New Brunswick. I received my first fly rod  at the age of four but only got serious about fly-fishing in 1995. I grew up most of my life fishing from a boat at local pothole lakes, trolling with flies and flat fish or still fishing with worms and marshmallows. I remember one evening out at Hasse; my father and I were trolling in our 12 foot aluminum car topper and doing quite well. Dad was fishing on top of the water using his fly rod, and I with my spinning rod fishing just under the surface, both of us using our favorite fly, the Doc Spratley. My father pointed out a large fish slurping off the top of the water, so we reeled in our lines and my father tied a #18 dry mosquito to the end of his line. I put the anchor down and he started casting to this area about eight feet from the weeds. I watched patiently as I always did when suddenly; zzzzZZZZZZzzzzz!!!, the fish must have jumped five feet in the air after hitting that fly. My father was hootin' and hollorin' as the fish took him into his backing. After the third time into his backing he was convinced that he was going to loose this monster Rainbow. Twenty-five minutes later he pulled in an eight pounder, at that time the biggest trout I had ever seen. It was this recurring memory that had stirred my interest and got me to start taking fly-fishing more seriously. Unfortunately I only got to go on one great fly fishing trip with my father before he passed away. It was up near Rocky Mountain House.  We didn't talk a lot while we were on the stream but there was a special connection I could feel with him that I never felt before.  I sure wish that I had gotten serious about fly-fishing a lot sooner in life than I did so we could have shared more days like that one.

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