While working this past weekend, I had flashbacks to my childhood. Now, you must understand that "working" is loosely defined in graduate student dictionary of relevant terms. It can range from examining specimens under a microscope, running extracts through an instrument to determine chemical content, diving, or many other tasks too numerous to list. I had the extreme fortune to spend my weekend fishing.

When I was growing up, some of my favorite times were spent fishing on the rivers surrounding my grandparent’s cabin in Missouri. One weekend in particular reminded me of my experiences this weekend. It was late spring and I was about 10 years old. My grandpa and grandma were kind enough to take me along with them to their cabin where I could fish in their lake to my heart's content. That weekend, every time my hook hit the water, I caught a fish. Honestly, every minute I was pulling a perch or bass from the water. Now, these were not huge trophy fish, but to a 10-year-old, I was in heaven. These are the thoughts that were running through my head nearly 15 years later this past weekend when I was "working". I was fishing because part of our research will test chemical defenses of invertebrates and macroalgae against relevant predators, some of which are fish. So, I was lucky enough to be allowed to be the one to collect these necessary scientific supplies.

Fishing here is not like back home. Here, it is done in a small hut located at the end of a pier. The hut itself reminds me of an ice fishing shelter. It sits at the waters edge and has a hole cut in its floor to drop the line through. The bait used here is also very, very different. A simple barbed hook is tied to the fishing line, which is weighted with a few split shot lead weights. To that hook, a small piece of yarn is tied. As simple as it sounds, it works very well. Drop this contraption into the water and the fish seem to leap into the bucket. They are not the brightest of animals. They come back, over and over, trying to take this piece of yarn, even if they had been hooked before and escaped. In less than an hour, I had nearly a dozen fish in the bucket. I haven't caught fish that fast since that memorable weekend at my grandparent's cabin. It is amazing, the things I am seeing here in Antarctica and the experiences I am having. As people cycle in and out of the station, a yearning for reminders of home was in my heart, and this past weekend I was reminded of one of my favorite times in my life so far. Thanks Grandpa for the great experiences of my childhood. I can honestly say I wish you were here to experience this tremendous place with me.