Rigtime GalI go drilling for natural gas on a rig in the Gulf of Mexico.
Posted Monday, June 4, 2007, at 5:27 PM ET
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StumbleUponOnboard, it's impossible not to get caught up in Brobdingnagian and Lilliputian comparisons. To reach the deposit means getting pipe to the sea floor, 6,700 feet below, then drilling another 7,000 feet into the seabed—in other words, going the depth of the Grand Teton. And from 14,000 feet away, they have to hit their target with a pipe that is 9 inches in diameter—the size of a dinner plate. From there, the gas will flow 60 miles through a seabed pipe to an offshore processing platform. Then it will travel through another pipe 100 more miles to land, where it will be further processed and readied for distribution. That is, if the "rock docs" (the geologists) are right and there is a natural-gas deposit. "You think you know what you're drilling for, but it's all a guess," explained Billy Ledsinger, a subsea engineer. (The docs were right, and Mariner expects the gas will start flowing in 2008.)
As Rusty and I walked around and over the equipment, I looked at the gorgeous aqua ocean, dotted with bobbing yellow seaweed. Rusty said the rig is a haven for migrating birds. A few weeks ago, a flock of hummingbirds took a break onboard, followed by one of purple martins. Amy said the birds are sometimes so exhausted that when they land they fall into such a deep sleep that she has stroked their feathers.
Three hours after our 6 p.m. dinner (I topped off my enormous meal with two bowls of ice cream), Amy escorted me across the rig. There, a group of welders were fishing from 90 feet up. Barracuda and swordfish are common sights, and someone pointed to flashes of brilliant blue—a school of mahi mahi. Within minutes the welders were hauling a 10-pound tuna onto the deck. They unhooked it and threw it back—it landed with a hard thwack that I hoped was not the tuna equivalent of the jump from the Golden Gate Bridge. Incongruously, on this part of the deck someone hung a white porch swing facing north—toward land too far away to see. I sat for a few minutes enjoying the darkness while engines hummed and gears turned.
We went back to our room, and Amy turned up the air conditioner to high, to drown out the hospitallike sound of the PA making incomprehensible announcements all night long. I slept wonderfully, the slight swaying of the rig having a womblike effect. I also discovered that being in the middle of the Gulf totally cleared up my allergies.
Recently the Washington Post reported that the Interior Department was looking to expand coastal oil and gas drilling to include a now-forbidden area off Virginia. Of course, environmentalists objected, citing potential damage to the tourist industry. But why should the choice be tourism or rigs? You can have both! Think of the marketing: unlimited food, suntanning on the heliport, fishing from 90 feet—just don't mention the 5 a.m. wake-up call.
OK, maybe Mohamed Al-Fayed and I are both crazy, and no one will want to vacation on a rig. But anyone who goes on that vacation will have a new respect for what it takes for you to warm your house with a push of a finger on the thermostat, or to get a flame on the stove with a turn of your wrist.
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Remarks from the Fray Editor:
Several former rig-workers and their family have weighed in with anecdotes of their own experiences. A sampling is provided below. For more, check out the Human Guinea Pig Fray.—G.A.
Remarks from the Fray:
At the risk of imitating the Monty Python Four Yorkshiremen routine, I was stunned by how plush the rig was compared to my experiences as a derrick man on an offshore rig in the Gulf of Mexico in 1975. %.50 an hour, time-and-a-half after eight hours, and we once worked 36 straight hours. Five minute break in the morning, ten minute break for lunch. That was it. A far cry from college, which I had left for a year to see the real world.
A great if dangerous, dirty, extremely loud experience with the hardest working, most racist people I'd ever met.
--Inkstained
(To reply, click here.)
I worked in the Gulf from 2000-2003 and from what I saw the rigs range from what [was] described to something so dirty and awful that you were scared to touch the sheets.
On some rigs the showers were so disgusting that I actually felt cleaner before the shower! I would take my own pillow case out with me and slept in long pants and a long sleeve shirt for warmth as well as to not have to touch the bedding too much. And you don't always have a private shower, most of the time it's community.
What was described in this article barely scratches the surface of life on a rig. Try spending 30 days straight out there isolated from your friends and family, tired, covered in mud and pipe-dope half the time and then tell me if you would still call it a 'vacation'.
Although I do think if more people experienced it they would have a greater appreciation for the time, work, and money involved in getting the oil/gas out of the ground. Have you ever seen 'Oil, Sweat, and Rigs'? My fiance still works offshore and he and I watch that show and are amazed at the way it portrays what goes on out there. Some of it is accurate, but not all.
One last thing, I disagree that the people on a rig are the most racist people you'll meet. Yes, some of them are racist, but people from all walks of life are racist. I would say you'd be hard pressed to find a more colorful group of people anywhere else though. I learned about coon-hunting and fishing and fence building and seismic surveying and the list goes on and on.
It was an interesting experience that I am glad I had, but would never want to do it again.
--clspet
(To reply, click here.)
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