Jess Phoenix - Ms. Adventure: My Wild Explorations in Science, Lava, and Life

MY WILD EXPLORATIONS IN SCIENCE, LAVA, AND LIFE

JESS PHOENIX

TIMBER PRESS
PORTLAND, OREGON

Copyright 2021 by Jess Phoenix. All rights reserved.
Photos on by willyam / Adobe Stock.

Published in 2021 by Timber Press, Inc.
The Haseltine Building
133 S.W. Second Avenue, Suite 450
Portland, Oregon 97204-3527
timberpress.com

Text design by Vincent James
Jacket design by Amanda Weiss
Jacket cover photograph by Adobe Stock/willyam

eISBN: 9781643260563

Catalog records for this book are available from the Library of Congress and the British Library.

To Carlos, who always
welcomes our adventures.

This work is my love letter to science,
to all it has given me, and to all it
can give to every single person on
our marvelous, complicated, by turns
knowable and inscrutable planet.
We are all born as scientists.
Cell phones, house cats, and Stephen
Hawkingwe are all made of the
same stardust. It is what we do
with it that counts.

1

MARCH 2016

THERE IT IS!

The words tumbled out as I pointed to a building flying a unique flag on a black pole jutting from its brick face. A patch of bright red formed a right triangle on the side closest to the pole, while the middle section contained a white rhombus with three red nautical-looking symbols for contrast. The section farthest from the pole was another right triangle, this one flipped upside down and deep blue, the color of the ocean after a storm.

The Explorers Club.

My heart thumped, and I felt my face and neck flusha side effect of pale skin. Glancing down, I smoothed my dress into place, cursing my choice of such uncomfortable, feminine clothing. The dress was long-sleeved, jersey knit, black with thin white horizontal stripes. It had a scoop neck and hit just above the knee. It was a perfectly fine dress for a slightly fancy afternoon cocktail social event, but I felt like a gorilla wearing a tutu and heels trying to attend a wedding with the Queen of England.

For the fifth time, I asked Carlos if my outfit was acceptable. He smiled and said I looked great. I sighed, resigning myself to his inherent spousal bias and continued crossing Madison Avenue. I was on high alert, scanning the faces of approaching walkers for clues that they were part of the legendary fraternity, the Explorers Club, that awaited. The most likely members would be older men with worn, creased faces and the occasional missing digit, the stories of challenges met and extremes mastered written on their skinso I surmised.

I tasted grime as we made our way through the throng of New Yorkers yammering into phones about Friday night plans and dodging pungent piles of garbage. On this day, none of the chaos of the city registered. I was in another world, mentally. Spring in New Yorkthe city of endless possibility, the core of so many stories of optimism that undergird its appeal to so many Americans, new and oldhas always felt like a waking dream to me. Its a promise never quite fulfilled like it is in more natural landscapes. The abundant concrete restricts the capacity to bloom. Today, however, even the claustrophobia of the impassive brownstones standing sentinel over East 70th Street failed to temper my excitement. I was in New York not as a tourist or a supplicant, seeking to gain something from the Big Apple. I was there because, for the first time in my life, I was a part of the heartbeat of that carefully constructed monument to humankinds dreams.

Carlos asked if I wanted a picture in front of the building, and I agreed, trying to normalize the situation in my mind. I pasted on a smile while he lined up the shot, a dozen awful scenarios flashing behind my eyes. What if they had no record of me? What if I was dressed too casually? Or overdressed? What if the first person I saw was Buzz Aldrin? What if there had been a mistake and my scientific work actually hadnt been deemed good enough for membership? What if no one wanted to talk to me? What if, what if, what if. The drumbeat of doubt threatened to turn my feet toward Central Park, the largest approximation of nature remaining in the concrete jungle that had swallowed the island of Manhattan.

One, two, three!

Carlos snapped the picture and handed me the phone for inspection. My face looked ghostly against the black dress; the curse of the redhead made worse by my lackluster makeup skills. I turned toward the club and Carlos squeezed my hand. He asked if I was ready. My eyes widened as I plunged forward, the arched steel doors a final barrier between me and the giants of exploration.

The Explorers Club was founded in 1904 as the United States answer to the prestigious Royal Geographical Society of the United Kingdom. The clubs members have laid claim to a litany of famous firstsfirst to the North Pole, first to the South Pole, first solo flight across the Atlantic Ocean, first to the summit of Mount Everest, first to the deepest part of the formidable Mariana Trench, and yes, first to the surface of the Moon. The clubs founders were active in exploration work around the world and created the organization to support and promote exploration in any way possible. Returning explorers gave both public and members-only lectures about their experiences in far-flung lands, a tradition that continues today.

The specter of colonialism hung over the club for decades, and the trophies present in the clubs collection are a vividand at times unsettlingtestament to the historical practice of collecting rare animals and unique cultural artifacts. Like many institutions that have withstood the painful reckonings of the twentieth century, the Explorers Club had to shift both its mission and its membership criteria to remain relevant. In 1981, famed scientist Carl Sagan authored a feminist letter exhorting the club to admit women to its ranks:

When our organization was formed in 1905, men were preventing women from voting and from pursuing many occupations for which they are clearly suited. In the popular mind, exploration was not what women did. Even so, women had played a significant but unheralded role in the history of exploration....

Today women are making extraordinary contributions in areas of fundamental interest to our organization. There are several women astronauts. The earliest footprints3.6 million years oldmade by a member of the human family have been found in a volcanic ash flow in Tanzania by Mary Leakey. Trailblazing studies of the behavior of primates in the wild have been performed by dozens of young women, each spending years with a different primate species. Jane Goodalls studies of the chimpanzee are the best known of these investigations which illuminate human origins. The undersea depth record is held by Sylvia Earle. The solar wind was first measured in situ by Marcia Neugebauer, using the Mariner 2 spacecraft. The first active volcanos [sic] beyond the Earth were discovered on the Jovian moon Io by Linda Morabito, using the Voyager 1 spacecraft. These examples of modern exploration and discovery could be multiplied a hundredfold. They are of true historical significance. If membership in The Explorers Club is restricted to men, the loss will be ours; we will only be depriving ourselves.