A large symmetrical brain coral starts to show signs of stress at False Caye, about one mile off the coast of Placencia, Belize.

Bringing it Back: Coral Reef Restoration in Belize [Part One]

December 22, 2017 in Ocean

Weighing in at just 8,867 square miles, one might consider Belize a light-weight country. It is roughly the size of Massachusetts - or one sixth the size of North Carolina. Yet this small, coastal nation boasts some of the most striking biological diversity in this part of the world, including 80% of the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef - the largest reef in the northern hemisphere.

I'm not aware of any of these facts as I cram myself and my camera bags into a van outside the Belize City airport.

T Money laughs her way up Mizzen Mast (V1) at Stone Fort Boulders in Chattanooga, TN.

When Women Commandeer the Crag →

November 21, 2017

As we make our way down the trail from the parking lot into the main area at Stone Fort, the crunch of twigs snapping under our approach shoes and the soft thump of our crash pads hitting the ground generate the only sounds in the still morning. This crag - one of the most renown in the southeast - is blissfully empty. After navigating through crowds of people here yesterday, it is a welcome sight to look around and see only clean rock and empty trails. More people will come later, but for now, Theresa, Joy, and I bask in the small glory of having an epic boulder field all to ourselves.

Kicking our feet up on the west rim of Crater Lake.

A Home at Crater Lake

October 24, 2017 in Mountains

When Haas and I inquire about backcountry camping, the male park ranger raises his eyebrows with a quizzical expression. His partner tuts disapprovingly. "No way," she says. "There is way too much snow up there."

"Do you have snowshoes?" he asks.

Jon shakes his head. We patiently listen as the rangers explain how we can try to make our way up towards Watchman Overlook, but we probably won't get far without snowshoes.

Jon and I are feeling fairly confident in our abilities on snowy terrain - at this time yesterday morning we were drinking celebratory beers in the parking lot of Timberline Lodge, having reached the summit of Mt. Hood about three hours earlier. We convince the rangers to issue us a backcountry camping permit, and they reluctantly hand it over.

Jon on the summit of Mt. Shasta at 7:25am on Monday, June 5, 2017.

Laugh: The Magic of Mt. Shasta Part III

June 27, 2017 in Mountains

“So that’s the summit up there,” Jon says, pointing past the top of the ice wall. “This can’t be right.”

While Mt. Shasta is a big, long climb, it is not supposed to be technical. We went the wrong way, and now our only option is to climb down what we just climbed up. I steel my mind. I hate going down. Whether it’s a steep trail or a wall of plastic holds at the climbing gym—going down is my least favorite part.

Breathe through it, I tell myself. Every time I kick in with my crampons, I’m sure that the loose terrain is going to give out below me. My ice axe feels like the only thing holding me to the mountain, and every time I lift it, my stomach muscles clench with fear.

Setting up camp at Lake Helen, elevation 10,400 feet.

Look: The Magic of Mt. Shasta Part II

June 27, 2017 in Mountains

When I look up, Jon is crouched over his pack, staring at me.

“I’m okay." I sound pathetic.

His expression is so intense, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. I look down at the snow.

“Look at me Marley.”

It is the most serious tone I have ever heard him use. I look up and meet his gaze.

I have known Jon Haas for the better part of a decade. He is one of my favorite people to do anything with: engage in a long, reflective conversation. Collapse into a debilitating giggle fit. Climb a massive mountain. During all our years of friendship I have seen Jon full of joy, frustrated, stressed out, celebratory, sleep-deprived, and stricken by heartbreak.

But I have never seen him like this.

Scoping out the scene at Lake Helen (not actually a lake.)

Prepare: The Magic of Mt. Shasta Part I

June 26, 2017 in Mountains

In the ten days that we’ve spent climbing together, Jon and I have learned a lot about each other—how we eat and sleep, how we deal with problems, how we relax, and how each of us approaches climbing a mountain. I love going up the steep stuff. It makes my legs and lungs work hard, and reminds me of the training I’ve done. It makes me feel strong. Jon, on the other hand, likes going down.

After hiking a little over 4,000 feet, Jon gazes up at the remaining 1,000 feet of steep, snowy terrain that stands between us and Camp Muir.

Mountaineering 101: The Climb to Camp Muir

June 22, 2017 in Mountains

I start out in front, well aware that Jon's pace is faster than mine. We hiked ten miles yesterday and I fought to keep up with him the whole time. While I've spent the past three months training for this trip - running hill repeats and stadium stairs, doing circuit workouts, and busting out more pull-ups and push-ups than I've ever done in my life - Jon hasn't trained at all. And he doesn't need to, of course. He's a Haas.

Here's to my tribe

June 17, 2017

With a mountain house full of friends, I'm halfway through proposing a toast when I hear a tapping sound. I turn around to see Austin's face pressed against the glass door. For what feels like the hundredth time, I scream. I fling open the door, and my heart is in my throat as I squeeze him - I can't believe it.

"This was all my idea," Austin says, with a huge smile.

Later that night we joke about how fortunate it is that I'm in such good cardiovascular shape - if I wasn't, I surely would have had a heart attack by now.

My favorite adventure books written by women.

Women On High

March 01, 2017 in Adventure

The outdoor endeavors that I find myself most drawn to—rock climbing, scuba diving, white-water paddling, and mountaineering—are, and always have been, dominated by men. It's 2017, and there are more badass ladies in these scenes than ever before. But still, the vast majority of books on these topics are written by male authors. Even books about women crushing, like Lynn Hill's Climbing Free or Stacy Allison's Beyond the Limits, are co-authored by men.

Before I go on—I want to clarify that this post is not a diatribe against men or male authors. I've read everything that Jon Krakauer and John Steinbeck have ever written. Gregory David Roberts wrote my all-time favorite book. And my most reliable, go-to adventure buddy happens to be a man. But I think he, and lots of other men, would agree that we need more female voices in this realm. Without going down the rabbit hole of the current state of feminism, let's just say our world, in general, could use more feminine energy and perspective.

So here are my top five female-authored adventure books. I cannot recommend them highly enough.

Watching the sunrise from the port side of the Capricorn, the largest research vessel operated by the UNC Institute of Marine Sciences.

Another Day at the Office

February 05, 2017

I've lost count of the number of times I've climbed aboard the Capricorn in the blue pre-dawn light of early morning. The 50-foot research vessel creeks against the dock behind the UNC Institute of Marine Sciences. The air hangs heavy, thick with salt and moisture, but without the heat of the sun, I'm not sweating yet.

Stacey, the first mate, gives me a kurt nod of recognition - he'll be more talkative later when the sun is up, and we're out in the middle of the open ocean.

"Good morning Captain Joe," I say, as I put my camera bag inside the main cabin. I pull my BCD and regulator out of my dive bag and walk back onto deck.

Celebrating the abundant sunshine on Ocean Beach during my last day in San Francisco in 2016.Photo by my dear friend, Michael Juberg. — Celebrating the abundant sunshine on Ocean Beach during my last day in San Francisco in 2016.
Photo by my dear friend, Michael Juberg.

Intention for 2017

January 03, 2017

A few weeks ago, right after I got home from San Francisco, I went out to dinner with my dear friend and personal creative muse, Jon Haas. I have lots of incredible friends, but none of them inspire me and push me in the ways that Haas does. When I posed the question, "what should my intention for 2017 be?" he gave me an immediate, yet thoughtful, response.

"Expansion."

Armando Pineda (left) and Dylan Mikesell navigate the western face of Llaima.

Llaima Expedition | Part III: The rest of my life

January 03, 2017 in Adventure

I have no idea how different my life will be after this.

When I get home, I will spend a lot of time talking to a lot of people about volcanoes. One of my photos from Llaima will be published on the cover of a magazine. I will read thick books about plate tectonics and how the earth was formed. I will buy a pull-up bar and join a rock climbing gym. I'll run a half-marathon in the Smokey mountains. I will complete a week-long scuba diving course and get my open water diver certification. I'll film ultra marathon trail races in the southeast and run across ridge lines in the Canadian Rockies. Nine months from now my job will send me to South America again - to document a research expedition in the Galápagos Islands. I'll attend a professional science writing workshop and a photography symposium on wildlife conservation. I will document a high altitude balloon launch at a NASA base in New Mexico. I'll learn how to fly drones. I will swim, dive, run, hike, and climb as often as possible. I will challenge myself again and again - to the point of complete exhaustion. I will not stop.

The sun rises over Masonboro Island and Masonboro Sound in Wilmington, NC. On the other side of the marsh and barrier island is the Atlantic Ocean.

Learning to fly

January 01, 2017

When Dave Johnston taught me how to fly my drone, he said, "If you want to get good at this, you need to fly as often as you can."

So I utilized those two days - 48 hours away from the typical daily grind - to fly as much as possible. I flew at sunrise and sunset both days. I flew the drone low over the water, and then 300 feet up. I took it to the beach and flew my little quadcopter through dunes and sea oats. I logged seven flights, and it felt good. I'm finally getting the hang of this, I thought.

Bogue Sound reflects a cotton candy sky just before the sun rises in Morehead City, NC.

Don't go back to sleep

December 21, 2016

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don't go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want.

Don't go back to sleep.

Our expedition trucks appear tiny at the base of Llaima.

Llaima Expedition | Part II: Type 2 Fun

December 20, 2016

As we head back to town in the late afternoon, Tim drives and entertains us with stories of his adventures in Idaho and across the west. He talks about wilderness EMT training and trad rock climbing. He tells us about the time he biked the entire west coast from LA to Oregon, and the time he almost died trying to kayak a class five rapid.

He's bragging, but his stories are captivating. I stare out the window, pretending not to listen. I wonder if he's full of shit.

That evening, over cheap Chilean beers, Tim and I talk for a long time. He mentions type 2 fun.

"What's that?"

A Galápagos sea lion naps on an overturned boat in Puerto Baquerizo Moreno on the island of San Cristóbal.

Everything happens all at once

September 10, 2016

Everything happened all at once - but at least I was at the wedding. I missed the engagement party because I was working in Chile. I missed Gia's bachelorette party because I was filming a documentary in the Canadian Rockies. Photojournalists, as a general rule, are not the best at making it to social engagements. Our calendars tend to fill up with events happening in other parts of the state, country, and the world.

Jasmina completes a lead climb in Cochise, Arizona.

Learning new tricks from an old friend

August 29, 2016

I focus on my hands - my chalky fingers gripping tiny indentations in sandy red rock - because that's easier than looking 60 feet down.

"Birdie!" I yell, refusing to look down at her.

"You're so strong Marley! You've got this." Jasmina's voice is confident and comforting. "There's a hold just above your left hand."

I stare at my left hand and will it to move. My right leg is trembling. I'm so afraid my foot is going to slip off the tiny sliver of protruding rock when I reach for the hold. I try to focus on what Jenny told me earlier in the day. Trust your feet. I reach for the hold and slide my foot up - the rubbery sole of my climbing shoe does not slip. A few minutes later I reach the anchor, and finally look down.

The Llaima volcano, seen from the main drag of Melipeuco, Chile, population 5,628. — The Llaima volcano, seen from the main drag of Melipeuco, Chile, population 5,628.

Llaima Expedition | Part I: Of Volcanoes and Valor

August 21, 2016

"You made it," Jonathan says, grinning broadly and clapping me on the back. "Welcome to Chile!"

I smile at him. Jonathan Lees is the chair of the Geological Sciences department at UNC-Chapel Hill, and he looks like it. His eyes twinkle behind thin frameless glasses. He's wearing a button-down water resistant shirt and matching shorts, a hat, hiking boots and a large backpack. He looks like he's about to set out on an expedition - and he is.

Divers explore the Aeolus wreck, located 25 miles off the coast of Beaufort, NC.

Divinity in the deep

August 16, 2016

When you get an open water diver certification, you have to read and discuss all the things that can go wrong. Decompression sickness. Nitrogen narcosis. Oxygen toxicity. Pulmonary embolism. Barotrauma. Panic.

While knowing about these risks (and how to prevent, mitigate, and treat them) is vitally important, all that information can make your first few dives a bit nerve-wracking. Humans really aren’t supposed to be able to breathe (or function at all) at the bottom of the ocean. So scuba diving is not the most natural thing in the world—it takes some getting used to.

Watching the sunrise over the Black Mountains, from the top of the Woody Ridge Trail.

The coldest morning of 2016

August 14, 2016

With the temperature hovering around the low 20's, and the wind blowing harder than I’ve ever seen or felt, I take in the view. It is beautiful - it always is. But I can barely breathe I'm so cold. I set up my tripod and the wind immediately knocks it over. I stabilize it by shoving two of the legs into a crack in a large rock. I lock my camera on it, set the timer, and pray it doesn't fall again. I get the above shot. This photo does not illustrate the severity of the weather conditions at all. Whatever. I'm so cold I can't even think. I have to get out of the wind.