My RMBL story begins long before I ever set foot in Gothic. As seniors at Swarthmore College, my classmate Steve Lowe and I were immersed in a yearlong ecological study of Crum Creek, the stream that cuts through campus. With encouragement from Professor Robert Enders, we applied for an NSF grant to compare Crum Creek with a Rocky Mountain stream at a place I had only heard about: the Rocky Mountain Biological Laboratory. 

We drove cross-country in just three days, powered by youthful energy and with zero acclimation time. I spotted Professor Enders the moment we arrived. I jumped out of the Jeep and sprinted uphill—only to nearly black out. My first lesson in fieldwork at altitude: respect the mountains. At RMBL, we joined Professor John Cairns of Virginia Tech, who was pioneering a new method for quantifying species diversity. While Cairns focused on microbes, Steve and I applied his method to aquatic insects on nearby Mt. Avery. 

What struck me immediately was how different the biota were from Crum Creek. Mt. Avery’s stream was fast, cold, and clear, with a clean rocky bottom—worlds apart from the warm, slow, silt-laden waters of suburban Philadelphia. Cairns’ method turned out to be surprisingly effective, even beyond its original purpose, and it opened my eyes to the value of asking creative questions in the field. 

Looking back, those early days at RMBL gave me more than scientific tools—they gave me a new way of seeing the natural world. It was my first time living in a place where science wasn’t confined to a classroom or a lab bench. It happened at breakfast, on the trail, in late-night conversations, and in small moments—like debating whether the infamous “beef noodle casserole” in the dining hall was truly beef. (It wasn’t. We didn’t need the post-meal announcement to confirm it.) 

RMBL also taught me about the unpredictability of field stations. One afternoon a packed bus attempted to come up the hill through the lab. After unloading all the passengers to lighten the load, the driver took a running start. The bouncing bus snagged a wire strung between buildings and ripped loose a wooden board that went flying into the crowd of onlookers. Thankfully the injuries were not more serious, but it remains one of the more dramatic moments of my summer. 

Most importantly, RMBL shaped my career path. Before my summer in Gothic, I knew I loved freshwater biology. But RMBL sharpened that interest into a calling. Being surrounded by passionate field scientists, immersed in hands-on research, and given the freedom to explore ecological questions in a spectacular setting helped crystallize my professional direction. As my graduate advisor later put it on a sign in his office: “Study Nature, Not Books.” RMBL was the first place where I truly lived that philosophy. 

That experience led me to a career in aquatic ecology at Oak Ridge National Laboratory, beginning in 1972. I studied the aquatic insects of Walker Branch in East Tennessee and later worked on experimental pond systems to understand how insect communities respond to pollutants. Eventually my path shifted toward global-change science, and I later directed the U.S. Department of Energy’s Carbon Dioxide Information Analysis Center. But even as my work expanded from insects to global data, the lessons from RMBL stayed with me: ask good questions, observe closely, and let nature guide you. 

Personally, RMBL also broadened my sense of place. Though I returned East after that summer, I learned that the biodiversity and beauty of the Southern Appalachians could be every bit as rich and surprising as the Rockies. RMBL helped me see ecosystems comparatively, appreciating them not for how they differ, but for the unique stories each one tells. 

-Article written by RMBL Alumni, Bob Cushman

Bob Cushman holds a B.S. in Zoology from Swarthmore College and an M.S. in Ecology from the University of Tennessee. He joined Oak Ridge National Laboratory as a freshwater biologist in 1972. His research focused on aquatic insect ecology before he later directed the Department of Energy’s global-change data center. He retired in 2003 and continues to stay active—playing tennis and banjo, and volunteering with the University of Tennessee Arboretum Society, Museum of Appalachia, and Greenways Oak Ridge. Bob lives in Oak Ridge with his wife, Janet. They have a son, a daughter, and two grandsons. 

Photo courtesy of Bob Cushman