WindKnot the Angler

Windknot chasing bones in Honduras.

WindKnot (aka Flatswalker, aka Bonehead, aka Mr. Fish Bones)

Born: Davin Ebanks, a sometimes marginally self-employed bonefish guide who hails from the isolated rock euphemistically titled “Grand” Cayman Island, of the former British West Indies. A glass-sculptor by trade, by inclination I pursue 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.)

Browse WindKnot’s Fishing Journal…


Barjack pets a Tampa Snook

BarJack and the Snook

BarJack the Angler

He fishes harder than you ever have, or will… and that’s just after work on the weekdays. Capable of almost obscene bouts of sleep deprivation in order to hit the water hard, he seems to subsist mainly on gas-station coffee, cigarettes, and the odd item of junk food you might happen to offer him… if you can get him to take his eyes off the water.

He is the author of The Indian Ocean Chronicles and will never forgive you if you snake a 7-pound bone from under his nose.

Read BarJack’s post…


Nate Dubya puts a tarpon back into the Florida Bay

Nate “Dubya” Landing a Keys “Poon”

Nate “Dubya”

(No relation.) Nathan runs a successful-struggling-booming-busting business building sweet-ass shit for rich people in the Florida Keys. In his spare time — which he has none of — he a fish-a-holic… recently inducted into the close-knit (yet suspicious) brotherhood of fly fishing tarpon fanatics. A self taught scholar of the flats, tropical architecture, and interior design, he hopes to one day finish rebuilding his own tropical home and have a functional skiff to wet a line on the fabled flats in his (freakin’) backyard (for goodness’ sake). (He has also promised to one day visit the author of this blog and cast flies at little bonefish in my backyard, but I’m not holding my breath.)

Read Nate “Dubya”s post…


The Padre forgives this Cuda

The Padre

The quintessential scholar, he reads Latin (backwards), deer-hunts with a bow and arrow, misses turkeys with a black-powder rifle, but (at least) he fishes with graphite. Responsible in large part for our wasted youth—he got me into fly fishing, I met BarJack and took him to the Keys to meet Nate, and together we convince him that tarpon on the fly were more important than work or mortgages or good housekeeping… it’s a twisted story.

Firmly entrenched in the Mid-West, he has his feet in the soil of middle-America. Bluegills and bass are his beat, but in the evenings he reads Gierach and watches bonefishing vids as he longs for trout and bonefish… though not necessarily in that order, or at the same time.

Read The Padre’s post…


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