It's fair to say that you couldn't classify me as religious. I don't subscribe to any school of religious thought, I certainly don't attend services of any kind and the only higher power I spend any time dwelling on is the one behind the inner workings of the trout streams I frequent. That said, there's clearly a deity of some sort at work to prevent me from ever casting to, let alone catching, a bonefish. Either that or I've just had some shitty luck.

Two times in the last 4 years, 2 nearly finalized trips to chase bonefish on the Abaco Out Islands ended up being cancelled. These are trips where the details couldn't have possibly been easier to finalize. The house at which which were scheduled to stay was owned by a family friend and the guide we were scheduled to hit the flats with lived next door. Fool proof, right? Nope.

Who would have thought that a long avoided -- but in the end, considerably pleasant -- family trip to Disney World would offer up a fresh chance to finally chase bones on Bahama flats, even if only for a day? A quick stop of our Disney cruise ship in Nassau offered up a day to get out with a local guide and be back on the boat in time not to be stranded while my family sailed on to a private island that Disney felt necessary to turn into a shamelessly manufactured theme park instead of letting people bonefish on any of the several perfectly good looking flats that surround it.

Unfortunately, as mentioned above, there are greater powers at work. Eagerly awaiting our arrival in Nassau, I awoke early to grey skies but remained determined not to be discouraged. Sure, the fish would be harder to see, but we'd still get at 'em. Yet, by the time the ship docked and allowed passengers to disembark, shoreside palm trees swayed heavily in the wind and the clouds darkened and threatened rain. A brief meet up with my guide in Nassau confirmed my suspicions: I'd be throwing away money by insisting we go out despite the current weather and looming forecast. With only one day in port, game over.

I've since come to the conclusion that the gods at work to keep me off the flats are those of the bonefish themselves. That, despite my half-assed double haul and total lack of experience in flats fishing, when I finally make it out on the flats -- I'm absolutely going to slay them. When you're drinking your own brand of Kool-Aid, this all makes perfect sense.

I remain determined.