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Copyright © Reader’s Digest Association Far East Ltd The artwork by Reader's Digest is based on a photograph of an Aker semi-submersible-drilling-rig. You can read the name Maersk Vinlander, just below the port-side crane. I worked on the Vinlander in 1995. The first unusual item that catches your eye are the 'barber-poles' at bow and stern of the rig. It was soon explained to new arrivals that these flexible fibreglass poles were designed to keep the lifeboats away from the rig's hull while they were being launched. This was not another case of spending money on delusions-of-safety. Off Canada's east-coast sea-ice can build up around the rig's legs and interfere with the lifeboat's journey to open water. This particular Aker-rig had been built in St. John, New Brunswick, Canada. She had originally been called the Bow Valley III. I soon found another Canadian link on the drill-floor. In a shack at one side there was a large and carefully-designed t

At a time when the Transocean Deepwater Horizon was still in the news an old comrade from my tong-swinging days told me: “They blew out their own casing, that’s why they couldn’t shut the BOPs”. It is difficult to understand how any moderately competent drilling-rig could allow casing from below the sea-bed/wellhead/mudline to be pushed upward with sufficient force and velocity to obstruct the BOPs, which sit immediately above the wellhead. I didn’t lose too much sleep over the story but it saddened me a little that it had become more difficult for me to get the inside-story and compare it with the official truth-lite-spiel.   British Petroleum were the operators of the Deepwater Horizon in 2010 when 11 people died and a large-scale pollution incident took place. I like to read books which is good because I have plenty of leisure time while the human-resources-scum greet about skills shortages. Greg Palast wrote  Vulture’s Picnic  which relates the Transocean Deepwater Hori

I began my offshore career on the Ocean Kokuei. It was the summer of 1975 and the older guy who was with me in Aberdeen Buroo assured me ‘Roughpainters’ would be a job painting trawlers in the harbour. The very small office in Tullos was a hive of activity. I filled in a clearly American application-form and waited to be called into the inner office for my interview. I was nineteen and the first question was a tough one: “What size boots do you take?” The Kokuei was drilling for Burmah when I joined her but she went on to drill for Chevron ; when Burmah went bust. I’d like to tell you more about that story but the material facts are obscured by a sea-mist of bull-droppings. Jim Sillars once spoke about Scotland being the only country in history to find oil and become poorer. Burmah in 1974 found the Ninian Field and went on to become insolvent. Odeco had four rigs in Scottish waters at the time. The Ocean Victory had a steady crew with a slow turnover of personnel. The Kokuei a

An ex-Aladdinaut and former merchant seaman once said of Jebsen's “the offshore side was real good”. I wouldn’t quite go that far but I stuck it out longer on Jebsen’s Aladdin than I did anywhere else. She must have had something going for her. One factor in the Aladdin story was Atle Jebsen. The maximo honcho of Jebsen’s Shipping was also on the Board of B.P. Norway. In 1982 B.P. Norway was looking for a semi-submersible drilling rig to work in Norwegian waters. The Norwegian Government did not operate a protected economy at that time, (or so they said). They would allow a token foreign flag rig or supply boat to operate in Norwegian waters; from time to time. These vessels were usually old and technically inferior (on paper). Their license to operate could easily be withdrawn by requiring some of the bells and whistles that were being fitted to Norwegian new-build rigs and boats. This was not done to protect the jobs of Norwegians; it was a matter of “safety”. Th

The Gothic Musk was anchored close to the Murray coast when we arrived. It was a Friday and the drilling rig was rolling in the swell. Further out to sea a storm was causing the water to lift up and down in a repetitive and ancient dance routine. The weather at our destination was too rough to run anchors. So the rig couldn’t go to work and we would be paid the same money to do a bit of painting, tidying up and looking busy. What more could a North Sea Tiger ask for? As a general case it was an ideal first day on a new rig. For myself I could manage a few regrets over how I came to be here at all. The previous rig was one where I should have been able to get on with everyone. Yet my dismissal seemed to have been orchestrated. Whether this was for trade union activities, political preferences or ethnic considerations made no difference. My days on the Gothic Musk were numbered. Junky Jordy and I had fallen out years before. He was the other Toolpusher, fortunately not due back for t

Published in Blowout   February 1992 Leroy McGregor CLANGING metal, shouted orders, indescribable filth and regular accidents … to outsiders, a drill-floor operation seems like a scene from Armageddon. It is sad to reflect that of those who hire, supervise, fire and harass drill crews, many have never swung a tong with feeling. Being part of a five-man team who can move one-ton lengths of steel with precision, skill and grace, can be a spiritually uplifting experience. By working together and covering each other’s weaknesses you gain respect for the rest of the crew and a unique insight into the fundamentals of “making hole”. The job you learn on the drill floor would be a great apprenticeship for further responsibilities with a service company, in the office or as an oil company representative. If people with practical drill-floor experience were given wider responsibility in their industry they could avert many accidents and eliminate much dubious expenditure. In the rea

November 1991 While the oil companies were focusing their energy on restoring democracy in Kuwait, a quiet revolution took place in downtown Aberdeen. Behind the solid granite walls of OILC House, a radical change in approach and legal status was underway. The image of Angry Young (?) Men defying capitalism and “stopping the oil” had served its purpose. The new talk was of building mutual respect, dialogue, human dignity and,  above all, being zealous for the law. The unofficial organisation which dominated television news in August 1990 has now done the decent thing. The Offshore Industry Liaison Committee has faced up to its responsibilities and become a legally constituted trade union. Perhaps a short honeymoon would have helped the organisation adjust to its new status, but faced with mounting evidence of the ostrich approach to industrial safety, the pace of activity in Guild Street is more hectic than ever. If those within the offshore union are unsure of their