Bretwood “Hig” Higman stands on a landslide hummock on the shore of Taan Fjord. In 2015, the landslide visible in the background triggered a 193-meter (633-foot) tsunami in the area.
Bretwood “Hig” Higman stands on a landslide hummock on the shore of Taan Fjord. In 2015, the landslide visible in the background triggered a 193-meter (633-foot) tsunami in the area. Higman works to research and respond to geohazards in Alaska. Credit: Bjorn Olson, Ground Truth Alaska
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Bretwood “Hig” Higman lives with his wife, Erin McKittrick, and two kids in a converted yurt in Seldovia, a community of 235 people on Alaska’s Kachemak Bay. It’s an unlikely place for an academic, seeing as there are no roads into or out of town. But then again, Higman has an unlikely career.

“I’ve spent my life wandering around in circles, bumping into things,” he joked.

Higman primarily works with his nonprofit, Ground Truth Alaska, which specializes in human-powered research expeditions. On these treks, he and others refuse the convenience of helicopters and bush planes, instead reaching study sites by sledding, skiing, bushwhacking, and packrafting over the landscape.

It’s a unique specialty he’s developed since earning a Ph.D. in geology at the University of Washington. Less than 24 hours after signing his dissertation, he and McKittrick started a trek from their Seattle front door to the easternmost outpost of the Aleutian Islands.

Since that 1-year pack-and-paddle adventure, Higman has completed dozens more human-powered research expeditions for his clients and collaborators. Experiencing the landscape and meeting with its residents provide a narrative backbone for advocacy and research, he said.

His main research interest is geohazards.

“I try to wear that community member hat just as prominently as the scientist hat.”

In Alaska, thawing permafrost and retreating glaciers are destabilizing mountain slopes. He places dozens of sites in the “terrifying” category, including Barry Arm, a fjord near the town of Whittier whose hillside periodically moves centimeters per day.

“That could potentially be the next tragic story of the geohazards world,” he said.

In his career, Higman has learned the necessity of community engagement. Some Whittier residents first heard about the Barry Arm threat from the New York Times, not from the experts researching nearby. That lack of communication breaks public trust, Higman said, and it’s why he prioritizes collaboration with communities.

“I try to wear that community member hat just as prominently as the scientist hat,” he said. With a lifestyle rooted in small-town Alaska, it’s possible to do both.

—J. Besl (@J_Besl), Science Writer

This profile is part of a special series in our August 2023 issue on science careers.

Citation: Besl, J. (2023), Hig Higman: Trekking across the last frontier on the hunt for geohazardsEos, 104, https://doi.org/10.1029/2023EO230271. Published on 25 July 2023.
Text © 2023. The authors. CC BY-NC-ND 3.0
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