main content Farming, Oceanography, and the Arctic

Like many of us who were seniors in spring of 2020, the pandemic left my post graduation plans upended, postponed, or indefinitely cancelled. Initially this was a big disappointment, as I had spent so many hours in Watzek Library, mulling over cover letters, adjusting resumés, and scouring careers pages - ultimately to have all that time and effort thrown out the window, with nothing much to show for it, and no plan at all. So it was on that long drive home down I-5, after celebrating our graduation ceremony on a laptop on the floor of our living room in Sellwood, that my friend called and said we should move to the mountains. I agreed, and repacked my car and headed for the Rockies.

What I thought would be one ski season maximum, turned into nearly three, wonderful years. I spent most winter days skiing, or in snowy mountain cabins, learned to play pond hockey (though not well), and grew an incredible community of friends. In the summers I rafted glacial rivers, went mountain biking and climbing, slept under the open sky, and spent many hours working on a small family-owned organic farm.

The farm began as a summer job to make ends meet, but it quickly grew into a place for which I cared very deeply. I spent more and more time on the land, working long harvest days, pressing fresh apple cider, feeding chickens and pigs, planting lettuce heads, picking cherry tomatoes, and, of course, weeding. I became one of the outdoor educators that ran the Farm School, a summer program designed to let kids learn about where their food comes from and how to seed, grow, and consume fresh fruit and veggies. I then took on a manager position for the local Farmer’s Market, and became connected with dozens of local farmers and ranchers in the valley where I lived. I cherished the weekend days when this market brought together small family farmers, cattle ranchers, bakers, beekeepers, herbalists, environmental groups, musicians, florists, and fishermen. I got to witness firsthand how these groups intersected, how small-scale farmers, land conservation groups, hunters, and ranchers, gathered to discuss land use, and the future of food, hunting, harvesting, and farming, and I loved it.

At the time, I didn’t think of this as applying my ENVS degree. I wasn’t conducting research or working an “environmental” job. But looking back, I realize I was engaging with real-world “environmental” questions every day - learning how local food systems function, understanding land use conflicts, and seeing how different groups work together (or don’t) to navigate the issues at hand. This is how three years passed and, while gradually the world returned to normal again, I had to ask myself what was next, then, for me? Should I return to some of these pre-pandemic dreams that I had been chasing before that spring and during the months preceding graduating from LC? And the answer for me was: yes.

In fall of 2023, having been accepted to an international master’s in marine biology, I moved to the Algarve in Portugal, to begin my program. I took classes in subjects completely new to me, like marine genetics, marine spatial planning, and marine law, and was also very excited to take a scientific diver course. I spent two enriching semesters living and learning in southern France on marine stations along the Mediterranean Sea, where I learned about research cruise planning and how to operate oceanographic instruments at sea. (Thank you, Jessica, for sparking my oceanographic curiosities!) I spent spring in northern Spain in a marine genomics lab, and summer on an island in Sweden working on a benthic biodiversity research project. Finally, now, I have arrived at my final semester of my master’s program. I managed to combine my deep rooted interest in chemical and physical oceanography, with my love of the snowy mountains, and have landed a research project in the Arctic Circle, in Tromsø, Norway.

As I embark on this final chapter of my master’s program, I reflect on how my journey has been a meandering one, filled with unexpected detours, and unassuming life lessons. Throughout ENVS we learn that the world is deeply intersectional, and my time working as a farmer, an outdoor educator, and as a farmer’s market manager revealed to me those intersectionalities in a time when I was least expecting it. Taking classes at LC in anthropology, geology, chemistry, economics, history, language, and arts gave me a well-rounded academic foundation, one that I leaned on heavily in this first year of my master’s program. My ENVS education also prepared me well to face challenges in the real world, where environmentalism, economics, human rights, food systems, and activism meet. Returning to a master’s in marine science has been a dream come true, but I am equally grateful for these years I spent in the Rockies beforehand, living and learning from community, and engaging with these intersections in real time.

If there’s one thing I can conclude with then, it’s that it’s okay if your dream doesn’t happen right away. It’s okay if your path isn’t linear. Sometimes, the most meaningful learning happens when you aren’t actively chasing a career. For some time, I thought I had stepped away from my ENVS education, but in reality I was applying it all the time, just in ways I hadn’t imagined. Now I feel that I am living my oceanography dreams, but I also know that those years working on the farm and in the community space were just as valuable and formative as the hours spent in the classroom and in the lab.

So, if your plans don’t unfold exactly how you imagined, fret not! Because you might learn as much, if not more, from the twists and turns along the way. I hope you find (and take) your detours!