Tag Archives: interviews

The Summer of a Thousand Miles

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1060 miles

20 hours

14 interviews

And one day to say everything I need to say.

How could I possibly, in a five minute presentation, communicate the nuances of the 14 conversations I had with fishers up and down the Oregon coast? How could I make sure that they weren’t being misrepresented by my words, since some voices would disagree with others? Would the audience–which I knew would mostly be comprised of people in the biophysical sciences–understand the relevance of this type of work? These were the doubts rolling through my mind leading up to Friday, August 17th–the Oregon Sea Grant Summer Scholars Final Symposium and, coincidentally, my 22nd birthday.

Never before have I designed a scientific poster, let alone present my scientific work in front of people who weren’t my peers or professors. As a dancer, I have been on stage hundreds of times. I know that chemically in the body, the feelings of excitement and anxiety are essentially the same. Cortisol levels spike. Your heart races. The last thing you want to do is wait. The only difference between these emotions is whether you are interpreting the situation in a positive or negative light. These feelings are not unfamiliar to me, but they caught me by surprise last Friday. All thirteen scholars–who I have come to adore over these past 10 weeks–were coming together one last time. My work, which was shared and understood within a small circle, was finally going to take the stage. I was exhausted from traveling long distances and preparing my materials. And I had high expectations for myself on this significant day. But I would not have it any other way. Excited and shaky, I took the floor in front of a standing room only audience.

My final symposium poster, which provides an overview of the projects I have been involved in and their context within the Human Dimensions Project of the ODFW Marine Reserves Program. Click the picture to view the poster in detail. If you have any questions about my work, feel free to comment below or message me at mbrist96@uw.edu

I briefly explained the place of human dimensions research in environmental policy. In my words, it boils down to analyzing a particular situation through multiple social sciences lenses at different units of people. Economics, anthropology, sociology, and psychology all contribute to a holistic understanding of the world. I explained how my research dealt with individuals rather than groups of people or geographical regions, and what that looked like. I remember hearing a few empathetic gasps when I said I reviewed 785 written responses to a well-being survey four times over. And exclamations of surprise when I showed them the complex framework I used to assess how people think and what they value. I explained that being trained to think this way set me up perfectly for what I was brought to Oregon to do in the first place: to interview fishers on their perspectives of the marine reserves. For if you can’t get to the root of what people care about, you lose all potential to find common ground.

Looking over Astoria–the northernmost point in my journey–toward my home state of Washington.

At this point in the presentation I felt myself balancing the need to stay on script for the sake of time with the desire to deviate into stories. I drove over 1060 miles this summer for interviews–which is the equivalent of driving the Oregon coast three times over. I conducted interviews from Astoria along the Columbia River to Brookings, which is nine minutes from the California border. Each and every person I talked to had distinct backgrounds and countless stories, and were more than open to talk about their lives as fishers, challenges related to fisheries management, conservation, and the marine reserves. I can honestly say that my perception of fishers has changed radically since coming to Oregon. They are highly satisfied with their lifestyle and are in tune with the natural environment that their business depends upon. Many of them wish to collaborate with scientists and managers to create policies that serve the greater good, so long as their input is not used against them. These insights are just a snapshot of what I ascertained from 20 hours of conversation.

But what I couldn’t tell the audience was about everything that happened in between these conversations. Moments punctuated by extensive beaches, meeting new people, and exploring the Oregon coast. Places referenced in interviews that I had the privilege of seeing with my own eyes. And the coastal cultures that my mentor Tommy introduced to me–I got to feel those firsthand. Traveling as a part of the Human Dimensions Project helped me understand the people of the Oregon coast more so than reading could ever do.

Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach, where I stayed for three days while conducting interviews on the North Coast.

For example, when I spent one weekend traveling to the North Coast, I was introduced to fellow Summer Scholar Dylan Rozansky’s work environment at the Haystack Rock Awareness Program (HRAP). On Cannon Beach, a whole community comes together to educate visitors on the ecology of Haystack Rock and to ensure its protection for the future.

The Historic Bayfront of Florence, one of my favorite places on the Oregon coast. However, it’s a really hard call to pick favorites. I feel so lucky to have traveled the entire coast this summer, and to have been exposed to so many different, beautiful places.

On a sunny Saturday morning I interviewed a fisher in Florence–a quaint retirement community an hour south of Newport. I took the time to wander through art shops and happened upon a bead shop called the Waterlily Studio, whose products are based out of appreciation for the natural history of our planet and cultural uses of nature.  I loved everything about the shop, and then got into a conversation with the owner about the future of our world. Our fears with the Southern Resident Killer Whales (SRKW’s) in the Puget Sound, and what we can do to save them. And I was more motivated than ever to take everything I have learned this summer–about engaging people in conversations and marine policy–to do something about this. When I return home to Seattle this Sunday, attending a public action meeting on the fate of the SRKW’s is one of the first things on my agenda.

A blood red sun in the smoke of California fires. I stayed in Gold Beach on the Rogue River while conducting South Coast interviews.

I am feeling a lot of things in this present moment. It is bittersweet to leave this incredible slice of the world. And already, so many of the Scholars have moved on to the next chapter of their lives–whether that be school or jobs. And I wish them all the luck in the world. Of all the emotions in my heart, I feel grateful to have been entrusted with this work, to have had such supportive mentors, and to have met such an outstanding group of people.

So all I have left to say now is…

Thank you.

My people, my fellow Scholars. Oh how I will miss you. The marine science community is small enough, so I have faith our paths will cross soon enough again.

OSG Summer 2.0: Interviewing Fishers along the Oregon Coast

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On Thursday, July 12th, my mentor Dr. Beth Marino and I joined a virtual meeting. I had high hopes; for four weeks I had been waiting to hear if I had approval to conduct my primary research project, which was to interview fishermen up and down the Oregon coast. The work I had been doing up until this point was constructive for my own understanding of coastal attitudes and was applicable to the broader goals of the Human Dimensions Project of the ODFW Marine Reserves Program, but it didn’t feel like something I could own. Granted, the results of this well-being survey, which no doubt I will outline in my final blog post in a couple of weeks, fascinate me because they get to the root of how people think. They reveal the lenses by which people view the world, and the thought processes they engage in when confronted with change. I invested the time in making sense of these responses, but I was not involved in the initial process of helping those responses emerge.

This distinction is important to me because other than being a scientist, I am also an artist, a dancer. Creating and leaving my own mark on the world is a part of my character. This is why I was itching to get started on what I was brought to Oregon to do in the first place: to help stories be heard.

On Thursday, July 12th, we were virtually meeting with a member of Oregon State University’s Institutional Review Board who would decide if the revisions associated with my involvement in Beth’s project could adequately protect the confidentiality of the interviewees. Already a week delayed, we thought this would be the day. But not quite.

I had an interview lined up for the next day that I had to reschedule (which, in retrospect, was for the better–I wasn’t prepared for a daylong road-trip, despite my eagerness).

So I waited until Monday while Beth meticulously worked at getting the project revision approved. Noon ticked by, and I still hadn’t heard. One fisherman was ready to meet 45 minutes away, and I was just waiting to have the go ahead.

I got the text message at 4 pm. And the rest of my summer began.

Me with my trusty state-owned Ford Fusion, which has helped me travel approximately 200 miles up and down the coast to conduct interviews.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Without hesitation I gathered my recording equipment, hopped into the state car, and was on my way to Depoe Bay. My first interview exceeded all expectations: the fisherman I spoke with was very open about his responses, could see the world from multiple perspectives, and had a rich understanding of both his community and the biological world that his work depends upon. We had conversations about the marine reserves, management practices, conservation, and his life as a fisher…all of which lasted for 1 hour and 40 minutes (for perspective, we anticipate good interviews to last anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours). I drove back home beaming, for I felt like this was the type of work I was meant to do.

The next interview was two days later and 80 miles north of Newport in a beautiful place called Garibaldi. To hear my first impression and thoughts right after rolling up to the coffee shop, watch this video.  Garibaldi is situated in a beautiful slice of the Oregon coast right where the ocean pours into a freshwater valley. The neighboring town is Tillamook, famous for their dairy products, and while driving back I got the chance to briefly check out what the town is so famous for.

The Great Northern Railway stationed in Garibaldi, right outside of the coffee shop where I conducted my interview, with a smokestack in the background.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My second interview was entirely different from the first; this fisherman was a fourth generation fisher, and his sons and grandchildren are continuing the culture. His operation runs from Alaska to California and they catch everything from salmon to Dungeness crab. This hour and 20 minute long conversation, which touched on the same themes as before, went in entirely different directions–especially with respect to conservation and management. Being involved in multiple states, he noted that he felt a difference in how management and policy-making decisions were handled in Alaska versus Oregon. Though the “Oregon Way,” or the culture of public inclusion in government decision-making, is perceived as prevalent in Oregon, this fisher suggested that based on the model of Alaska there is room for improvement. He wished managers had more of an open door to those involved in commercial resource industries.

These interviews are intended to measure the impacts of the marine reserves on people in the commercial and charter fishing community, but this point illustrates how these conversations can be applied to issues beyond the marine reserves. They aim to represent a voice not typically heard, and so long as they are representative of the fishing community as a whole, these words can be used to inform management practices and policy. Local knowledge from fishers about the ocean itself can help scientists design more effective studies.  These conversations can open the door to more constructive dialogues about how we as humans relate to our environment.

Some fantastic rock formations in Tillamook Bay, captured while standing next to the railroad tracks along the waterfront.

So far, these fishers have expressed that they want responsible management. They advocate for science that supports their livelihoods. They want more research. They don’t all see eye to eye on every issue, but as far as I have heard, science is not the enemy.

This is just the beginning for me, and I am sure that I will interview people with more divergent opinions than my own. And it will be a challenge for me to steer the conversation in the right direction, but I am confident that I will be able to do it. Divergent opinions, as long as they don’t harm other people, I believe are healthy for society. I love listening to how other people see the world, with a grain of salt. And sometimes, beautiful narratives emerge.

When I was first being trained by Beth, she was telling me and my other mentor, Dr. Tommy Swearingen, about an interview she had just completed that had brought her to tears. She told me that there is something about the openness of the interview environment that allows people (both the interviewee and the interviewer) to divulge stories that in typical settings wouldn’t be discussed. On my fourth interview in Newport, I experienced a genuine, moving moment like this. I asked him if his life as a fisherman was fulfilling, and as he spoke I could tell he loved his line of work. He said every morning he got up at 4:30 am, made his black coffee, made plans for the day, and couldn’t wait to venture out on the boat. I wish you could have heard him say this, for I could feel his joy and it made my eyes blur. He loves this life.

I get paid to be moved by the stories of others. I cannot be more grateful that this is how I am spending my summer.

The Newport bridge, which I cross on my journeys. I wonder where I will go next?