How Searching for Killer Whales Connected My Roots to Community Science

Por Gianna Haro Vallazza

Most of my memories feel like a dream, shaped by flawless white sand beaches edged with black lava rock, turquoise waters stretching endlessly into the horizon, and a landscape alive with endemic plants and animals. Much of it happened barefoot, in a place many consider the world’s most ideal natural laboratory. For me, it was simply home.

I grew up on Santa Cruz Island in the Galápagos Archipelago. The Galápagos is world renowned for its role in shaping Darwin’s theory of evolution, but as a child, I did not think about scientific legacy. I thought about wonder. I played with wildflowers, hunted lizards, shared my ice cream with sea lions, and chased iguanas along dusty paths. I collected insects in jars, inventing names for them and carefully cataloging them in a makeshift basement inventory. I spent nearly every day at the beach, snorkeling in crystal clear water and investigating what lived beneath the surface. I brought home hermit crabs and pencil sea urchins, not to keep, but to observe, study, and better understand.

Without realizing it, I was practicing science. More importantly, I was forming a deep, intuitive relationship with the outdoors, one rooted in curiosity, respect, and daily interaction rather than formal recreation. The outdoors was not something I visited. It was something I belonged to.

Paying with baby sea lions as a child in the Galapagos Islands.

Becoming a Biologist and Learning About Barriers

As I grew older, observation became second nature, and with time came clarity. I wanted to be a biologist. My first internship took place at the Charles Darwin Foundation, where I worked as an assistant on the Galápagos green turtle monitoring program. I spent days on Isabela Island observing nesting behavior and watching these ancient animals haul themselves across the sand to ensure the survival of their species.

It was there that I saw myself reflected in the turtles’ journey. Baby sea turtles face overwhelming odds, predators, distance, and harsh conditions, just to reach the ocean. Even after that, they navigate powerful currents to someday return to the same stretch of beach where they were born. I understood then that my own path would require navigating obstacles as well. Access to higher education, moving away from home, and navigating academic systems not designed with people like me in mind were real barriers, even if they were not always visible.

Still, that internship solidified my purpose. I knew I wanted to work in research, conservation, and eventually return to island and coastal communities like the one that raised me. To do that, I had to leave home and expand my world through education. This is why I personally funded my Biology degree at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and my Environmental Management degree at Cornell University, through a lot of hard work, multiple jobs, and the support of many generous angels along the way.


Working as a biologist in the Galapagos Islands! Showing a dolphin skull.


Redefining Outdoor Engagement

Today, outdoor engagement means something broader to me than traditional recreation narratives often suggest. It is not just about summiting peaks or logging miles. It is about listening, observing, contributing, and caring. It is about community science, stewardship, and making conservation accessible to people who already have deep relationships with place, even if they do not label them as outdoorsy.

That belief is what drew me to Adventure Scientists, and specifically to the Searching for Killer Whales project.

Southern Resident killer whales are critically endangered, with only about 74 individuals remaining. While much attention is paid to their presence in Washington waters, far less is known about their movements along the Oregon coast. This project invites coastal hikers, surfers, kayakers, sailors, and ocean explorers to collect observation data during activities they are already doing, whether or not whales are seen.

That detail matters. It reframes science as something people can participate in, not just observe from a distance.

In partnership with Oregon Shores, the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife, and NOAA, volunteers complete a short training, use a simple survey app, and record environmental and observational data from shore or water. Importantly, the training, protocols, and survey app are fully translated into Spanish, an intentional choice I advocated for as a Latina to ensure that more people could access and participate in this work in their primary language. The result is valuable information that supports research and conservation, powered by community members.

Volunteers and Adventure Scientist team member, Gianna Haro Vallazza, Searching for Killer Whales in the Oregon Coast.

My Role and Why Representation Matters

In my role at Adventure Scientists, I support the project management team by leading cross functional planning, coordinating collaboration among diverse stakeholders, and translating complex ideas into actionable, community centered solutions. My background in biology, environmental management, GIS, and bioacoustics allows me to bridge science with lived experience.

But just as important as my technical background is where I come from.

As a Latina conservationist from the Galápagos, I know how powerful it is to see yourself reflected in conservation spaces. Representation matters not just for inspiration, but for effectiveness. When diverse communities are welcomed into environmental work, the solutions become more inclusive, resilient, and grounded in real relationships with land and water.

For many communities, barriers to outdoor engagement are not about interest. They are about access, language, time, safety, and whether spaces feel welcoming. Community science projects like Searching for Killer Whales help lower those barriers by meeting people where they are and honoring the ways they already connect with nature.


Guiding in Alaska, the only Latina in the crew.


An Outdoors for All of Us

My journey, from chasing iguanas in the Galápagos to supporting killer whale conservation along the Oregon coast, has taught me that the outdoors is not a luxury. It is a shared responsibility and a shared inheritance.

When we expand the definition of outdoor engagement, we make room for more stories, more voices, and more solutions. We build an outdoors that reflects the diversity of the people who depend on it and care for it.

The ocean raised me. Science gave me a language to protect it. Community centered conservation gives me hope that we can do this work together, equitably, inclusively, and with joy.

Searching for Killer Whales volunteer group picture, during our November field day event in Oregon.


The Art of Attention

Por Sofia Rovirosa

A smattering of stars hangs cold and sharp in the New Mexico sky when I decide I will climb Mt. Wheeler. I move slowly. Watch the sky shift from soft pink to blue, then head up to the ski valley. It is already past eleven when I arrive at the trailhead.

The forests here are not like those of California. In the coastal woods, the scent is mossy and rich—delicious, with wet bark and the damp perfume of mushrooms. But here, in the Sangre de Cristos, the air carries the dry, fragrant breath of pinyon and juniper—almost incense-like.

I begin the climb. The snow deepens. The air thins. In the distance, the muffled crunch of footsteps—then, a man appears on the trail. Sixty, maybe older, with a gentle demeanor and a kind smile.

“You climbing to the top?” he asks.

A ver,” I say.

“Me too.” He says back.

We climb together in silence. The trees begin to thin, and the wind comes harder now, sharp against our cheeks. The slope steepens. My breath grows ragged. My kind companion moves ahead, breaking trail. I follow in his footsteps, shin-deep in powder, hands frozen, nose dripping, lungs burning. There are moments when I want to turn back, and my mind floods with doubts.

But then, a thought rings clear and piercing as a bell. This is what is real. Just one more step. I take it—ten seconds at a time, counting, then looking up. The summit is still far. The wind stings. The sky is a blue so deep it feels like it could swallow me whole. My companion’s face—pink with cold, radiant with effort—tells me everything. This is what it means to be taught again how to pay attention.

To breathe.
To listen.
To place one boot in front of the other.

At last, we reach the top. He turns to me. Whether it is the wind or something else that wets his eyes, I do not know. But in this moment, we are quiet. A stranger and I—brief companions—wrapped together in the stillness of awe. The mountains, the woods, the high desert beyond us. All of it too vast to hold.

It is too cold to linger.
We descend.
We embrace.
We part ways.

Once again, I have been reminded: Pay attention.
The mountains are full of instruction.


Sofia is an adventuress, novice surfer, and long-haul road tripper with a soft spot for big skies, coastal mountains, and vast wildernesses. Born in New Mexico, she’s lived in Southeast Alaska, Washington, Northern Arizona, and now calls California home.


Defending People and Our Lands: Why Attacks on Communities and Public Lands Are Connected

Por Latino Outdoors

This time last year, Latino Outdoors joined Tribes, community leaders, and representatives from across the country at the White House – East Wing, to celebrate and protect public lands shaped by grassroots leadership.

It was proof that community voices matter. Proof that land is worth fighting for.

Fast forward to now, across the country, we are witnessing rollbacks, budget cuts, and fear-based rhetoric being dressed up as “policy.” Harm is being normalized in real time, not only through immigration enforcement but also across environmental and public lands decisions.

Jazzari Taylor, LO’s Policy Advocate, in the White House East Wing, January 2025
President Joe Biden and former Secretary Deb Haaland, January 2025

At Latino Outdoors, we see clear parallels between these attacks. The same systems that justify surveillance, detention, and the displacement of communities are the systems that support the sell-off of public lands, the weakening of environmental protections, and the prioritization of profit over people.

This is not a coincidence. It is a strategy. Let’s be clear: people deserve protection just as much as the land does. Our communities are not separate from the outdoors. They are an extension of the land, just as the land is an extension of us. Without each other, there is no “United” States of America.

Protecting the outdoors and public lands without addressing the impacts comunidades face is irresponsible and insensitive.

As an organization, Latino Outdoors envisions a world where our comunidades experience nature as a safe, inclusive, and welcoming space, where we can share and celebrate our stories, foster leadership, and build a vibrant community of people who love and care for the outdoors.

It is not a means to an end to envision such a world, but a continuous moral compass to measure our humility, just as it is to honor Indigenous peoples, elders, and our ancestors. It means protecting land and people together, for future generations. When harm toward communities is justified in the name of “order” or “security,” environmental harm soon follows. When voices are excluded from decision-making, both people and land suffer. Latino Outdoors remains committed to defending access, equality, opportunity to learn on the land, and the many benefits it offers.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, start where you are, within your capacity and capability. Support a local family. Share trusted resources. Volunteer. Donate. Join a Latino Outdoors outing or event. Hold leaders accountable. Defend your neighbors. Defend public lands. Defend the right to live without fear. If you’re ready to take action right now, here is one immediate way to help:

  • Oppose Steve Pearce’s Nomination as Bureau of Land Management Director; the administration has nominated Steve Pearce to lead the Bureau of Land Management (BLM), an agency responsible for managing 245 million acres of public lands. Pearce has a long record of supporting the sell-off of public lands and weakening land and water protections, and his deep ties to the oil and gas industry raise serious concerns about whose interests would come first. There’s a narrow window to stop this nomination before it advances, so please contact your Senators today and urge them to oppose it.

This moment calls on us to stand firmly in our values, to protect people and land with equal care, to reject fear-based narratives, and to act with intention and responsibility. Together, through collective action and community-centered leadership, we can shape a future where belonging, dignity, and stewardship guide the path forward.

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