I moved to Washington, D.C., on January 20, 2008 and was excited to begin my National Sea Grant Knauss Marine Policy Fellowship. Persistent thoughts of my wife, Anke, and my dog, Yoki, followed me to the capital city. Our little family was going to be separated for the next year as I embarked on my new adventure.
The long U-Haul truck ride from Boston allowed for much reflection and anticipation. My riding partner, Aaron, is also a Sea Grant fellow, and we had shared a hotel room during Placement Week. As navigator for most of the drive, I daydreamed and watched the city scenery change as we crept through Boston, New Haven, New York City, Baltimore, and finally D.C. I remembered what had brought me so far from Alaska and separated my family.
The decision to leave Alaska and pursue this fellowship opportunity was difficult emotionally and practically, yet it felt right, the next step in my education.
I first heard about the Knauss Fellowship from Brian Allee, Alaska Sea Grant director, at the local American Fisheries Society student chapter meeting. That evening, a seed was planted in my mind, and for the next couple of weeks I researched the fellowship and had several discussions with my wife. We both became caught up in the possibilities this experience might bring. It was tantalizing to us, a paying fellowship that could broaden my world-view to the national level of fisheries management and policy making. Sprouting in my imagination were the ways this exposure could benefit a career in Alaska fisheries management. Emotionally, I knew it would be hard to be separated from my two nephews (ages 2 and 4), and my family over the one-year fellowship. I had no desire to go to D.C. prior to the fellowship and I thought of the difficulties of moving across the country, dealing with the crime, and paying for the high housing costs. Logistics aside, we decided to pursue the fellowship.
Inside the U-Haul truck, the nuts and bolts of our move turned out to be more nuts than bolts but, as with the fellowship pursuit, we made it. In Boston, I loaded my belongings, two boxes, an old ten-speed bike, and a backpack into the enormous 25-foot truck. Aaron immediately informed me that all of our electronic navigation tools had failed. His GPS unit and the iPhone were useless due to the lack of a functioning power outlet in the truck. My city navigation skills also proved lacking as I directed us onto several parkways. I had no idea that large commercial vehicles were prohibited on these special roadways. These laws exist for a good reason, as I soon learned. The truck had a clearance of 11’ (or so the dash sticker proclaimed) and as we progressed down the road, the ornamental bridges that crossed the parkway became shorter. White-knuckled, we passed under bridges of shortening size 13’, then 12’6’’, and finally a 9’6’’. We exited the parkway as soon as possible and proceeded to get lost in a progression of cities until finally, we made it to Washington, D.C.
