Standing on the monkey deck of Nautilus, I stare at the massive mountains of Maui. My focus lingers on the steep, rugged ridge lines. Leaning against the railing, I watch the steady rotation of the giant, white windmills in the distance and exhale a deep breath.
Gazing at this island feels both meditative and familiar —I’ve spent three months of this year looking at it from this ship. While the angle shifts slightly depending on Nautilus positioning, the view is more or less the same.
It never gets old.
***
After my fifth and final expedition ended in late October, I returned home to North Carolina and tallied up the the time I spent at sea this year. Ninety days altogether — three months in Hawai’i and a month in the Caribbean.
By every measure, 2022 was the most successful year of my career — as a freelancer or otherwise. I completed five expeditions on two different vessels. I worked alongside National Geographic photographers, NASA engineers, Alvin pilots, and some of the most highly respected professionals in the world of oceanography.
While Alvin has been photographed thousands of times, the opportunity to take photos of the famous submersible at work in the open ocean is rare. I shot this image in August, and it has been published in over a dozen media outlets and websites since then.
It was a solid year outside of my expedition contracts too. I hired my first intern, presented at two conferences, and taught an online course for the first time. My photography was published by some major media outlets and I was a featured guest on a couple podcasts and blogs.
When I share this information with friends and acquaintances, many of them shake their heads in disbelief and say, “That’s incredible! You’re so lucky!”
Incredible, yes.
Lucky? I don’t know about that.
According to the Oxford dictionary, “luck” is defined as: success or failure apparently brought by chance rather than through one's own actions.
When I graduated from college, Gia gave me a card. Unlike most graduation cards, it did not include an image of a bedazzled diploma or sparkly letters spelling out Congratulations. Instead, the card had a simple, blunt message scrawled in bold font:
Wise words served straight up by my dear friend Gia Branciforte.
Fuck lotto. Build your own dream.
People often tell me I have a “dream job” and I agree with that statement one hundred percent. My job is truly out-of-this-world awesome. But it did not fall from the sky into my lap. I didn’t scratch it off a lottery ticket. I didn’t hope or wish or pray for it to happen.
I built it — through tenacity, courage, and intention.
Tenacity
One of the most common questions I get asked is, “so, what’s next? When are you going to sea again? What’s your next big adventure?”
As of right now, in late December 2022, I have no idea. I don’t have any expeditions scheduled for 2023 yet. Five years ago, a blank calendar would have terrified me. Will anyone hire me? Will I make any money? What am I going to do??
But these days, I accept the nature of my work is a bit unpredictable. I know that expedition staffing sometimes doesn’t get finalized until the last minute. Instead of filling my head with anxious thoughts, I try to focus on possibility. A blank calendar means I have plenty of space for cool opportunities to come my way.
When I left my job at UNC at the beginning of 2018, I pinned this quote from Amelia Earhart on my desk:
The most difficult thing is the decision to act. The rest is merely tenacity.
I still hold those words close to my heart. If I picture my freelance career as a building, tenacity is the foundation. An abundance of tenacity got me through the first two years of full-time freelancing, during which I harbored many insecurities and lots of self-doubt. Tenacity powered me through the strange, early days of the COVID-19 pandemic when all my expeditions were cancelled. And internal reserves of tenacity continue to provide much-needed mental fuel when I’m in between expeditions and big projects.
Courage
In the past five years, I have joined 16 oceanographic research expeditions. Nine of those have been contracts with the Ocean Exploration Trust aboard the E/V Nautilus. I deeply appreciate the values and mission of OET and I adore my shipmates on Nautilus. But every single time I step onto that ship, I can’t help feeling a bit nervous and intimidated. Because every single expedition challenges me.
During this most recent expedition season, one of the biggest challenges was learning how to operate a brand new Insta360 Pro camera inside a Mantis Sub housing.
Bob Ballard purchased this state-of-the-art camera rig with the expectation that we would capture super high definition (8K) footage to be used in virtual reality experiences. When Jonathan Fiely told me about the unit’s $20,000 price tag and Dr. Ballard’s big dreams for the footage, I had to take a deep breath.
“So, no pressure!” Jonathan said with a smirk. “Try not to screw it up.”
Wrangling expensive equipment underwater is no small feat. Here, I detach the Mantis from our DIY rigging and prepare to swim it up to the surface | Photo by Nova West
My job regularly involves this type of scenario — working in a remote place, alongside extremely intelligent people, with cutting-edge equipment. I have to learn new technology in high pressure situations, and I have to be willing to do this kind of crazy shit over and over again.
It is not a job for the faint of heart.
But jumping into the open ocean with expensive tech isn’t the scariest thing I do. Being a full-time freelancer in a competitive field means I have to continuously “put myself out there”. While it still makes me feel uncomfortable at times, I have to promote myself and my work. Send emails to eminent people. Publish my newsletter. Post something creative and compelling on social media. Write candidly about my experiences on this blog. Stand on stage at a conference and talk about myself.
I find some of these tasks tedious. Some of them make me cringe. Some of them make me insanely nervous. But through a gritty combination of courage and determination, I do them anyway.
Intention
I don’t spend much time sitting in my “office” (a corner of the guest bedroom). But when I do, I am surrounded by pertinent reminders — mostly in the form of words. The graduation card Gia gave me twelve years ago sits on my desk, along with the Amelia Earhart quote. In the hallway is a framed Lisa Congdon illustration that quotes Nellie Bly: energy rightly applied and directed will accomplish anything.
As I reflect on all the epic adventures and professional success of this past year, many experiences stand out. Jumping into the water with Alvin. Photographing giant pods of dolphins. Flying a drone into a saturated Hawaiian sunset. During these moments, a familiar thought enters my mind over and over again:
I can’t believe this is my job.
But I can and should believe it. Incredulity, or feeling like I won the career lottery, is not accurate.
I built this dream. I will continue to build it.
Smiling at the sunset on the deck of Nautilus | Photo by Nova West