A DAUGHTER'S TRIBUTE

Some of my most cherished memories are from those early mornings with my grandfather, my father, my brothers, and my uncles. We'd wake up at the crack of dawn, pile into the truck, and make our ritual stop at the store—snacks, coffee for Dad, and lunch. Without fail, we'd get those stinky hoagies loaded with onions.

I was always the odd one out. While everyone else saved their sandwiches for mid-day, I'd devour mine on the way to the boat dock. I couldn't stand the thought of touching my food with fishy hands. They'd laugh at me, but I didn't care.

Then something interesting would happen. Every single time, after they stopped mid-day to eat their lunch with hands that had been handling fish all morning, their catches would drop dramatically. Meanwhile, I'd keep reeling them in. They started calling me the "High Hooked girl"—the one who always caught the most fish.

Years later, after I'd learned the craft of soapmaking, those childhood memories came flooding back. I finally understood what I'd been observing all along: they were skunking their own bait. Every time they touched sunscreen, motor oil, gasoline, bug spray, or ate with fishy hands, they transferred human scents directly onto their lures and bait. The fish could smell it.

That's when it hit me: I could create a soap specifically for this. A soap that works in saltwater. A soap that hangs boat-side for easy access. A soap that actually eliminates human scents at the molecular level.