Adam Butters is a hardworking free spirit with a knack for adventure and a gift for chilling. He’s a hands-on problem solver,  tan engineer keeps the ship running, but also the guy you’d spot on the 06 deck stretched out in a beach chair, soaking up rays and blasting Kenny Chesney at lunch.

From early on, Butters knew he wasn’t built for a desk job. He needed to move, to explore, to do something real. While working at a marina in high school, he met a Massachusetts Maritime Academy alum who told stories of Sea Term runs to the Caribbean in the middle of New England winters. The idea that you could get paid to do something like that stuck with him. It set him on the path to Buzzards Bay, graduation in 2016, and eventually, a career at sea.

Today, Butters is a Chief Engineer with NOAA, and he’s carved out a setup most mariners would envy. He sails two months on, one month off. He owns a duplex and rents out the bottom floor. He lives on his boat during the summer in Mystic, Connecticut, and spends part of the winter in Hawaii. In short, the man knows how to chill. But here’s the key: none of it just fell into place. His lifestyle was consciously built, shaped by decisions and tradeoffs along the way. Yours will be different, but his story is one example of how you can curate a sailing career to fit your life.

After graduating from Massachusetts Maritime Academy in 2016, Adam Butters launched his career with Military Sealift Command as a Third Assistant Engineer. His first tours were on the USNS Alan Shepard and USNS Sacagawea, but he eventually found a home on the USNS Richard E. Byrd. That’s where the stories really start.

On the Byrd, he leaned into everything MSC had to offer. He trained as a SAR swimmer, picked up his SCUBA license, and earned his First Engineer’s license. He hunted down dive bars, mingled with locals, and ripped around port with the Byrds of Prey — the ship’s Super-73 electric bike gang started by a legendary engineer.

Eight years with MSC gave him exactly what academy grads imagine when they sign up: big ships, overseas liberty, and the chance to learn his craft at scale. He was finally living the stories that pulled him toward the career. But it also came with the frustrations every mariner eventually feels. The new port thrills started to fade, and the pull of a more predictable rhythm and time at home grows stronger. Friends back home were getting married, families were starting, and the idea of being counted on, not just as a billet number, but as a son, uncle and friend — became harder to ignore.

For academy grads like Butters, the decision isn’t simple He had years invested in his license, sea time, and career. Walking away would feel like throwing it all out. He chose this job for the adventure, but now the price was getting high.

Butters wrestled with the tension. He loved the work and the people he sailed with, but he couldn’t ignore how little MSC valued him- especially when the people waiting at home did. His turning point came after 45 days of sailing in a higher billet, carrying the responsibility of a higher position but without the money, recognition or sea time credit. The error delayed his promotion to Chief and cut deeper than just lost pay.

“It hurt,” he admitted.

The reasons were piling up. Adam knew he needed to make a change. He’d had his adventures, but other things were starting to matter more. Still, he wasn’t ready for a “normal” nine-to-five life. He wanted to keep sailing, just in a way that fit the life he wanted. The shift to a new career came unexpectedly, one of his deck machinists returned from training and mentioned a chance encounter with a NOAA recruiter (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration). That offhand comment cracked the door to another world and started him down a different path.

Unlike MSC, which operates under the Department of War, NOAA sits under the Department of Commerce with a mission built around science and research. Their ships support fisheries surveys, ocean mapping, climate data collection, and more. For mariners, that difference means a different culture, steadier schedules, and career paths shaped less by defense readiness and more by scientific missions.

Want the full picture? Check out our article on sailing with NOAA for a deeper dive.

After nearly a decade with MSC, Butters took the leap to another federal organization: NOAA. It turned out to be one of the best decisions of his career. Today, he sails as a Chief Engineer on ships like the Bigelow and Pisces, working a steady two months on, one month off rotation.

“Transitioning to NOAA was exactly what I needed. It was easy. I know when I’ll be home, and I know when I’ll leave again. I know I’ll have August off, work September and October, and be home again in November.”

The predictability changed everything. He knows he’ll be home for Thanksgiving, probably sneak home a few days for Christmas, spend summers living on his boat in Mystic, and carve out a month in Hawaii each winter. He still sails, but now it’s paired with a rhythm he can count on and a sense of being valued. For Butters, that balance is the sweet spot.

NOAA isn’t perfect, and it has its quirks. But many of them play to his strengths. Just as he once served as a SAR swimmer for MSC, he now dives with NOAA. His ships are home-ported in Rhode Island, close to his base in Mystic, which makes the rotation even more sustainable. And while NOAA doesn’t always serve dinner in port, they issue COMSUBs — meal stipends to eat ashore. Some mariners grumble, but for Butters, it’s a free dinner for something he was going to do anyway.

The lifestyle upgrades add up in small but meaningful ways. Starlink internet keeps him connected with family and friends anytime. The paychecks don’t spike as high as MSC’s at times, but as Butters puts it, “I hardly notice the difference.”

What stands out most isn’t money — it’s respect.

“My boss’s boss’s boss knows my name and my family. It’s a welcomed and stark contrast. It’s really nice to just be able to submit a travel claim without getting attitude or make arrangements to attend a funeral without jumping through hoops.”

At NOAA, he feels like more than a billet number. He feels like a professional supported by an organization that knows who he is. And for Adam Butters, that’s the difference between just working at sea, and building a life around it.

There’s no perfect path at sea. Every option comes with tradeoffs, and how willing you are to accept those tradeoffs shift depending on your goals and your stage in life. What frustrated Adam at MSC is what gave him the sea time, licenses, and global experience that eventually opened the door to NOAA. What feels like a dealbreaker to one mariner might be a perk to another. The key is knowing what you’re signing up for and making the pros outweigh the cons.

Take MSC. It’s a massive organization tied to defense priorities and global logistics. That means big ships, long hitches, and the kind of deep-sea experience that builds your license and your résumé quickly. But it also means delays, bureaucratic headaches, and the reality that you are one billet in a very large system. That system isn’t out to get you, but it isn’t built to revolve around you either.

NOAA, on the other hand, is smaller and operates under the Department of Commerce. The mission is different, and so is the lifestyle. Schedules are more predictable, rotations shorter, and the culture more personal. Paychecks may not spike as high, but stability and respect go a lot further. For Butters, that meant he could finally buy a duplex, spend summers living on his boat, and plan a winter in Hawaii. Things that never quite lined up with MSC’s unpredictability.

But this isn’t about saying one is better than the other. It’s about recognizing what stage of life you’re in and which tradeoffs you’re willing to make. Adventure versus stability is always a sliding scale. You can’t max out both at the same time. Early in his career, MSC was perfect for Butters: it gave him stories, experience, and the foundation to move forward. Later, NOAA gave him stability, respect, and the rhythm he wanted.

As he put it:

“MSC was a great job. But a poorly run company. I felt left in the dark and that built up a lot of stress and anxiety. Even with the money they paid me, it wasn’t worth it. Be skeptical when the government is offering $60K bonuses and still can’t get people to stay. I’m so happy I left. I feel like my relationships have been restored. My friends and family can count on me again.”

And yet, he’s still grateful for what MSC gave him:

“I’m happy I had the opportunity to sail with MSC. I got to go to places like Japan, Australia, and the Philippines. I liked learning on the bigger ships and sailing deep sea. I just wish MSC treated their people better and recognized that we have families and lives back home. I’m glad I did it, but I’m happy where I am now.”

That’s the balance. The lesson isn’t to pick MSC or NOAA. It’s to understand their structures, their missions, and their realities and then decide which one lines up with the life you’re trying to build. And be ready for that balance to shift as life moves forward. Stability, after all, flows downstream from predictability.

Butters didn’t set out with a master plan. Like most of us, he graduated not knowing exactly how his career would unfold and only found out about NOAA by chance. Luck can play a role, but it’s not a strategy. At CIVSail, we want to go beyond recruiting brochures and raw numbers. Pay scales and ship classes matter, but they don’t tell the whole story. Our goal is to give mariners the perspectives, tradeoffs, and lessons that make it possible to build a sustainable career at every stage of life.

This is the Adam Butters’ story, and it’s a good one. Yours will look different. Maybe you’ll retire from MSC. Maybe NOAA will be the right fit. Maybe you’ll pick up a CONMAR contract or run tugs out of New York. Or maybe you’ll captain a floating bar for bachelorette parties. Whatever course you set, the point isn’t the exact path you choose, it’s whether that path adds up to the life you want to live.

Working on the water can open doors to incredible experiences and possibilities. At CIVSail, we believe every mariner deserves the chance to get the most out of that journey. Dig into the rest of our articles, share them with friends, and support us if you can. The more this community grows, the more stories, tools, and hard-won insights we can bring back to you.

Big thanks to Adam Butters for sharing his time and perspective. His story reminds us that every mariner’s path is unique, and we wish him nothing but success as he continues building a life both afloat and ashore.