What’s the biggest fish you’ve caught?
Well, that’d be the 180-pound tarpon I wrestled near Caxambas Pass—thing jumped so high I thought it was tryin’ to catch me. Took 45 minutes, three bottles of water, one torn rotator cuff, and a lotta yelling like I was at a Dolphins game.
We locked eyes. It blinked. I blinked. I won.
Biggest fish? Yes. Biggest ego? Also yes. Still shows up in my dreams talkin’ trash.
If you were cooking for all your friends what would you cook?
Easy. I'd fire up the grill and lay down some fresh-caught snapper, blackened with my secret spice rub (don’t ask, I ain’t tellin’—but it involves paprika and a little voodoo). Side of coconut rice, grilled pineapple, and enough lime to make a margarita nervous.
Then I’d toss some stone crab claws on ice, slap a bottle of hot sauce in the middle of the table, and let the feast begin. No plates. Just paper towels, sunburns, and tall tales.
Because when you fish like we do on Marco Island, dinner’s not just a meal—it’s a celebration of everything salty, sassy, and just a little bit spicy.
What’s your favorite band?
Favorite band? Easy—Reel Big Fish. Not just ‘cause of the name, though that helps. Nothing gets me in the zone like some ska horns and a bassline that slaps harder than a snook on a slack tide.
But if I’m filleting after dark or cruisin’ to the backwaters? Gimme some classic Buffett. Jimmy knew the soul of saltwater living better than most folks know their own Wi-Fi password.
So yeah—Reel Big Fish for the vibe, Buffett for the lifestyle, and whatever the pelicans are screechin’ when they think I’m filchin’ their lunch.
What’s your favorite movie?
Favorite movie? Jaws, hands down.
Yeah, yeah—I know it scared half the country outta the ocean, but to me, it’s a love story… between a man, a boat, and a fish with boundary issues. Quint? That salty old sea dog was basically my spirit animal—minus the whole getting eaten part.
Honorable mention? The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Because nothing says “master of the sea” like a red beanie and unresolved emotional trauma.
What’s your favorite sports team?
Favorite sports team? Miami Dolphins—because I respect any organization that can go undefeated and still break your heart every season like clockwork. Loyalty builds character… or at least a tolerance for disappointment and bad officiating.
Plus, nothing gets the fish biting like yelling at a Sunday game on the boat radio while pretending you didn’t just spill a beer retying your leader.
And when it’s not football season? I root for Team Whoever-Brings-the-Snacks.
What’s your drink of choice?
Drink of choice? Ice-cold beer in a koozie that’s seen more sun than a beach towel—preferably something local, like a Naples craft brew with a name like “Snook Bite IPA” or “Redfish Redemption.”
But if the fish are really biting and the sun’s high? I’ll switch to a rum punch so strong it could power a trolling motor. Comes in a plastic cup, garnished with regret and a lime.
And on special occasions? Water. With electrolytes. I’m not a savage.
What was your last halloween costume?
Last Halloween? I went as a “Lost Bait” — decked out in neon orange and green, tangled up in fishing lures like I’d been dragged through a tackle box explosion. Had a sign that read, “If found, please return to the boat.”
Got plenty of weird looks, some laughs, and one kid swore I was a walking fishing disaster. Guess that’s accurate.
Best part? Halloween’s the only day I can rock my ridiculous fish hat and not get funny looks—unless the fish are watching, then I’m just confusing the competition.
What do you want for Christmas this year?
What do I want for Christmas this year? Three things: a Van Staal reel—because if you’re gonna fight a tarpon, you need gear tougher than a gator’s attitude; a cooler that actually chills my drinks instead of just pretending; and maybe a fish that bites like it owes me money.
Oh, and a week off where the only thing biting is the holiday spirit—not my fingers. But knowing me, I’ll probably be sneak-casting from the porch anyway.
How did you get started guiding?
How did I get started guiding? Well, picture this: a kid with more mosquito bites than sense, a beat-up rod, and a knack for talking to fish like they owed me a favor.
I grew up chasing snook and tarpon in the mangroves around Marco Island, learning the currents and secret spots nobody else knew — mostly by sneaking out of the house before dawn and convincing my mom I was “just fishing.”
One day, a buddy said, “Why don’t you get paid for this?” Next thing I know, I’m showing folks how to catch dinner instead of just catching excuses.
Now? I’m the guy with the weather beaten hat, a boat full of gear, and enough fish tales to fill the Gulf. Guiding’s not just a job—it’s a lifelong love affair with these waters and the folks lucky enough to fish ’em.
What makes you different from other guides?
What makes me different from other guides? Well, for starters, I’ve got more miles on the water than a pelican’s got fish in its belly. I don’t just find fish—I read the water like a weathered old book, know every current, sandbar, and secret hole that’s got a fish with its name on it.
But here’s the kicker: I don’t just teach you to catch fish, I make sure you have a damn good time doing it. Expect laughs, tall tales, and a few “did-that-just-happen?” moments.
Plus, I’m as patient as a gator waiting for lunch, but just as quick with a joke when you lose a lure or miss a strike. It’s not just a trip, it’s a full-on saltwater experience you’ll be bragging about long after the sunscreen wears off.
