Newport, Oregon | 44.6368° N, 124.0535° W | April 9th, 2025
On a clear day, the view from the Yaquina Bay Bridge is stunning – green hills line the horizon, fishing boats dot the harbor, and the Hatfield Marine Science Center buildings shimmer in the sunlight. I try to take it all in while keeping my eyes on the road in front of me. It’s hard to believe that for much of the year, this corner of the Oregon coast is blanketed by gray skies and persistent rain.
Three minutes later, I park my car, grab my bags, and make my way inside the Gladys Valley Marine Studies Building, smiling at the sunlight bouncing off its many massive windows. I still can’t believe I get to spend the next two weeks working here.
When I walk into the expansive lobby, Cinamon Moffett is waiting for me. She gives me a hug and says, “welcome back!”
The last time I came to Hatfield was for a short visit in November. After working at sea with Bill Chadwick last summer, he suggested I come to Newport to give a seminar, which I happily agreed to do. After my talk, Cinamon told me about the Lavern Weber Visiting Researcher fellowship. With Bill’s help and support, I applied for the fellowship and got it. Now I’m here.
Make yourself at home: It feels a bit surreal to have an official office space for the first time since I left my full-time job at UNC in 2018.
Sometimes things just work out.
Cinnamon hands me a set of keys and shows me to my office, a bright room with a large window on the third floor. Cinamon’s official job title is Associate Director for Research, but I’m convinced she runs this place. She seems to know everyone and everything happening at Hatfield, and I’m grateful she can take the time to show me around.
The third floor also houses offices and labs for the Marine Mammal Institute. The first person I meet is Dawn Barlow, a gregarious postdoc in the GEMM lab.
“We eat lunch together in the break room every day,” she says brightly. “You should join us!”
At lunchtime, I meet half a dozen people who all ask questions about my work and my background. When I tell them about documenting research in places like Antarctica or the Galápagos Islands, their eyes don’t go wide with shock or surprise. Instead, they grin and nod knowingly. Most of these folks also regularly travel to far-flung parts of the world for their research.
After lunch, I walk down the hallway and see a familiar young man walking out of his office. A wide smile spreads across his face as he throws out his arms. “Marley!”
It’s been seven years since I last saw KC Bierlich (when we were working in Antarctica) but his warmth and enthusiasm are as infectious as ever. We hug and chat for a few minutes, and immediately make plans to grab beers together the following week.
Two hours later, I walk across campus with AJ Mallozi. I met AJ briefly when I visited Hatfield in November, and I’m happy to reconnect with her now. At Hatfield, AJ does a little bit of everything – managing logistics with the regional class research vessels (RCRV), running youth programs with local Tribal communities, and pursuing a PhD in the Human Wellbeing and Conservation Lab at OSU. I’m impressed with AJ’s ability to balance so many different passions while still exuding a laidback, breezy demeanor. In addition to chatting about work, we talk about some of the best things the Oregon coast has to offer: rugged hiking trails, beautiful beaches, local seafood, and good beer.
04.12.2025
“Let’s the put the internship flyers over here — and spread out the stickers and postcards on the other table.”
Emily Jones and I are putting the finishing touches on our E/V Nautilus exhibit for Marine Science Day. Emily and I have been good friends since we sailed on Nautilus together last summer, and she conveniently lives in Portland, Oregon. Even though she doesn’t have a connection to Hatfield, she kindly agreed to make the trip down to Newport to lend me a hand for this event. Just for today, HMSC is set up like a science fair – with tons of exhibits, demonstrations and activities – all open to the public. It’s a perfect opportunity to show off the value and impact of deep ocean research. It’s also a great excuse to seee Emily in her element. As Newport communtiy members begin to to file by our table, Emily gives detailed explanations and descriptions of E/V Nautilus and our deep sea operations around the Pacific.
On the other side of the room, Bill Chadwick and Jeff Beeson run a table (complete with volcano lava lamps) to showcase the wonders of Axial Seamount, the most active volcano in the Pacific Northwest. I chuckle at Bill and his volcano demonstration.
Deep sea explorers: Emily and I enjoy reppin E/V Nautilus and deep sea exploration.
Volcanoes are awesome: Bill and Jeff show off the lava lamps at their table.
Over the course of the day, we speak with almost 100 people about the ways in which Nautilus conducts ocean exploration, including training young people to become professional explorers and contributing valuable data to the deep sea community. We hand out information about our internship program, answer questions about our ROV, and show off the 2024 expedition highlights reel.
In the afternoon, an elderly woman approaches our table and introduces herself. She tells me her name is Pat and she’s the wife of the late Lavern Weber, who directed HMSC from 1977 until 2002. The fellowship that brought me out here honors the life and work of her beloved husband, and I feel honored that she wanted to meet me in person. I tell Pat that I’ve heard wonderful things about Lavern and his contributions to Hatfield. She asks about my work, and I give her a quick overview of my background, skills, and expedition experience.
“In a nutshell, I translate the technical jargon of deep sea research into compelling narratives,” I say. “My goal is to produce stories about the ocean that lots of different people can relate to and appreciate.”
Pat smiles. “Lavern would have loved you.”
After a full day, Emily and I pack up our materials, pick up some take-out, and head back to the cottage I’m renting at Nye Beach. After watching the sunset over the Pacific, we spend the rest of the evening eating Thai food and chatting with my closest friend in Newport, Brianna Bowman. Conversations with Brianna always flow without effort. She, Emily, and I spend hours talking about science communication, career opportunities and possibilities, and professional connections. But we also discuss our families, our partners, and our “untraditional” life choices.
Emily leaves the following morning, and I spend the rest of the day preparing slides and finalizing handouts for the two workshops I will host in the next week.
When I take a break from my laptop, I look down at my phone and see a text from Emily. She tells me she made it back to Portland safely, and then she hits me with this:
I am so excited that Hatfield has YOU to share what you know and do so well. You’re making an impact already that I saw just from being in Newport this weekend! I feel hopeful knowing you’re in the world and doing this work to build community, teach, and empower people to follow their passions and interests. It’s important work to keep our passions alive and in this time of insurmountable change, it brings me so much hope.
04.14.2025
I quickly develop a solid daily routine — wake up early, go for a run on the beach, take a shower, pack my lunch, and head to campus. Walking into my office each morning feels oddly satisfying. It’s been the better part of a decade since I quit my full-time job at UNC and had this sort of daily routine. While I love the freedom and flexibility that comes with being a full-time freelancer, I also enjoy having a designated work space and seeing friendly co-workers each day. Freelancing involves a lot of solo time, and the thing I miss the most about having a full-time position is working with a team – the brainstorming, the constructive criticism, the helpful feedback, and the camaraderie.
I spend a lot of time in Guin Library where I chat with the library’s director, David Irvin. He shows me the different special sections, including collections of books on topics like climate change anxiety, intersectional environmentalism, minority voices, and indigenous knowledge in science. While David prints me a library card, I peruse all the titles, noticing some familiar book covers as well as many new ones. I check out a small stack of books (more than I’ll be able to read in the next two weeks) but the simple act of taking them back to my little cottage fills me with joy.
The library is also where I host my workshops.
Planning and presenting a workshop is always a great learning experience, especially when I can do it in-person, instead of through a computer screen. I love seeing the excitement and clarity on the face of a participant when a new concept clicks into place. I also love the questions and curiosity. During my photography workshop, I show a striking image of a sunset in the North Atlantic. One participant raises her hand and asks, “how many photos did you have to take to get one?”
I chuckle. “That’s a great question, and you’re right — I had to take a bunch of pictures to get this one.”
Capture the motion of the ocean: I took this photo during an expedition with WHOI in the North Atlantic back in 2021. In my photography workshop, I use it to illustrate proper shutter speed and composition, as well as the value of patience.
04.23.2025
On my last official day in Newport, I have coffee with Nancy Steinberg, Director of Communications at the OSU’s College of Earth, Ocean, and Atmospheric Sciences (CEOAS). While I wasn’t able to make it to the main OSU campus during the past two weeks, I tell Nancy I want to prioritize making a visit next time I come to Oregon.
I’m delighted to find out Nancy and I have a lot in common. Earlier in her career, she spent several years working as a full-time freelancer. We chat about our jobs and the value of science communication, but we also discuss how to find hope in the midst of such volatile times for the scientific community. Nancy’s husband runs a lab at Hatfield, and he just received notice their facilities would be forced to close due to federal budget cuts.
“How do you find hope?” Nancy asks.
It’s a loaded question, but it’s also something I’ve been thinking about throughout my time at Hatfield. Connecting with other people who have dedicated their lives to ocean science and having conversations like the one Nancy and I are having right now — that’s what gives me hope.
Sharing my story is another source of hope, and that’s part of what I’ll be doing this evening when I host Science on Tap, the final event for my fellowship.
I’ve been refining my slides and talking points for weeks, but I still feel nervous about delivering this presentation. The majority of my public speaking experience revolves around sharing my career story with college students, but this evening I’ll be speaking to a room full of scientists, engineers, and experts in their chosen fields. I’m also planning to kick off the talk with this audacious statement: not everyone needs to get a PhD.
It’s a bold thing to say to a room full of people who have worked hard to earn their PhDs, but it’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about a lot during my time at Hatfield. I am the first person to receive the Lavern Weber Fellowship that doesn’t have an advanced degree. Having the opportunity to teach and to share the knowledge I’ve gained from my work is a huge deal — but it wouldn’t be possible if this fellowship required a masters degree or a PhD. I hope that opening the fellowship to people like myself will break down barriers, create opportunities, and bring more diverse voices to Hatfield.
When I finish my slides, the questions begin. One woman raises her hand and asks, “what’s your science background? What degrees do you have?”
“I have a B.A. in journalism — full stop,” I say. “That is my only formal degree.” I go on to explain how and why I have prioritized real-world experiences over multiple academic degrees, the various certifications I have earned, and the value of being a non-scientist dedicated to telling compelling stories about science.
At the end of the Q&A, I try to squeeze in as much gratitude as I can — I thank everyone for attending, I thank the family of Lavern Weber for creating this wonderful fellowship, and I thank the Hatfield community for giving me such a warm welcome.
As I’m packing up my stuff, a woman named Lauren walks up to me, introduces herself, and says, “We have a lot of similar experiences!” It turns out she and I have sailed on three of the same ships and we have the same level of formal education.
“I really appreciated what you said about not getting a PhD,” she says. “I just have a bachelor’s degree – but I’ve been able to do so many cool things.”
Cheers sister.
04.24.25
It feels a bit surreal and sad to hand the keys to my office back to Cinamon. I also hand her a thank-you note addressed to the family of Lavern Weber.
KC gives me a big hug and we chat about potential plans for when I come back to Newport in September. If all goes well, I might get the opportunity to film and photograph KC and his colleagues while they’re working with whales just off the coast here. I’m also making plans with AJ, Brianna, Nancy, and several other folks.
As I drive out of Newport, heading south to Cape Perpetua and eventually Florence, I reflect on the affirmation and acceptance I’ve felt over the past two weeks. For the past several years, I’ve thought frequently about how my time and energy gets divided between two realms: my life at home in North Carolina and my life at sea. But spending this time at Hatfield has reminded me that my life and my passions extend far beyond that simple duality. I can find a sense of home and belonging in many different environments and places — and I’m so happy that Newport, Oregon is now officially one of them.