About

Yup, that's me mostly failing to catch bonefish in Raotan, Honduras... pretty sweet.

Here  are the rantings, musing, and general pontificating of Davin Ebanks (a.k.a. Windknot): a sometimes marginally self-employed bonefish guide who hails from the (mostly insignificant) rock optimistically named “Grand” Cayman Island, of the former British West Indies1. A glass-sculptor by trade, by inclination he pursues bonefish, tarpon, and permit (and, frankly, any other finny quarry) wherever they can be found… as time and finances warrant. (Which, as you’d imagine, is not nearly enough in either case.)

Most of these words are divided into two main categories: Fresh Mud and Old Scratch. The former are (mostly) fresh (i.e. current) entries regarding the not-too-distant past. They may be journal-style entries of recent flats fishing nonsense, trips I’ve taken, or just general thoughts on the state of the sport  (apropos of nothing much).

The later (Old Scratch) are entries from my old fishing journals kept during the rather extended novice period of my fly fishing life. Mostly. By and large. Think of it as timetravel, with commentary. The entries do extend into the recent past, so there’s a transition (or perhaps a transformation) there. I certainly haven’t kept a consistent journal, but when I read through I see a younger me trying to come to grips with, among other things, how in the world do you catch a bonefish when you can’t catch bonefish. As I am transcribing them to this blog, I am  moved, on occasion, to annotate (through the use of footnotes) some of these entries.

Due to the nature of blogs in general, that means these entries will come with two dates — one of the date the entry was published on this blog, and the other denoting the date the original journal entry was written. And it gets more complicated: many of those entries were dated twice on the initial entry to begin with — the first the date it was written and the second the date the events in question happened. However, as it happens I wasn’t exactly consistent with that and some are merely dated once. It is beyond my power now to recall which type of dates these are. It seems fitting now that such writings should be translated to a medium that is itself fuzzy about time and place.

Randomness is just what it sounds like: random, often humorous items sometimes only tangentally related to fly fishing (in the sense that all of Life is related). There’s no order here, so no worries.

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1 Really, we are no longer part of the British West Indies. This is actually seen as a condescending term, recalling the bad-old-days of colonialism. I’ve always thought it added a little class and distinction to what’s otherwise just a little rock with palm trees. But, you know, whatever.