by Paul Carter
The concept is simple; up to four men at a time are hoisted to the rig. I felt sorry for one of the guys; he was pacing about, biting his nails, double-checking his survival suit, flashing occasional worried looks at the sky. If you do fall from the Billy Pugh you’re stuffed; the water is so cold, survival suit or not, if the impact doesn’t kill you the water temperature will. This guy was a young Russian wire line operator; I wandered over to him, smiling. He smiled back, rather like someone would with a gun to their head. Not only had the poor bastard been throwing up for the last nine hours in his cabin, he was now explaining in superfast broken English that he was scared of heights.
‘You can ride with me if you like, you’ll be fine,’ I said in my best adult BBC serious English.
He nodded up and down quickly.
Our turn came, the bags were thrown inside the net, we stepped up, and grabbed on, the crane was taking up the slack fast as the boat was starting to heave.
‘Look at me,’ I said to the young Russian. He fixed his eyes level at mine. I smiled as we rose fast into the foggy airspace of salt spray and high anxiety.
Touching down he instantly lifted, resilient in his relief. I congratulated him.
‘Not so bad,’ he said, beaming.
The rig was a 600 Series semi-submersible; it had been sold just before this project kicked off so no-one was interested in its shitty state. The whole thing was a mess; from the top of the derrick to the Blow Out Preventer (BOP) deck it was a rusty eyesore that belonged in a graveyard, not hovering over a wildcat well.
Two weeks later we were all back on the supply barge, waiting for the next well section to come up. The barge, Ismaya, was built in Ireland in the 1950s and had gone through many roles in her long life. Converted into a drill ship in the early 1970s, Ismaya spent many years working in South-East Asia. Erwin had been on board when she was drilling in Indonesia.
One morning Erwin and I were having coffee when Garry the engineer joined us. He had worked with Erwin on the Ismaya so I learnt about some of the best years of her drilling past. According to them the rig’s best crew member was ‘Ah Meng’, a young orphaned orangutan who the barge captain found in some harbourside market. He brought her back to the rig and there she stayed for many years.
One of the Indonesian crew members was a cabinetmaker. He built a bar room below decks, fashioned from beautiful teak, impossible to get now. When finished, it was the best rig bar in Asia; and it became Ah Meng’s domain. She ran the bar on the rig for the next fifteen years. It was always clean and organised; she made cocktails. There was never any fighting because everyone had too much respect for Ah Meng . . . and if she wanted to she could pull your head off and throw it over the side. She had her stool, no-one sat on her stool, ever. A favourite crew pastime was waiting for new people to come on board and unknowingly sit on Ah Meng’s stool. Only to be launched through the air into a large couch against the far wall. Even funnier if you could get a new guy to sit on the couch/landing area and another to plant himself on Ah Meng’s stool.
Whenever the rig was in Singapore getting work done in dock, the boys would take Ah Meng out on the town. Erwin lived there for twenty years and remembered seeing her around now and again. Even the odd older taxi driver can recall having her in the cab. Since hearing the story I have asked every cab driver I met in Singapore and had three tell me she was just like any other tourist.
When the Ismaya was sold to a new drilling contractor, the company said Ah Meng had to go. The crew was in Singapore at the time, and decided to phone the Singapore Zoo for advice. The zoo had heard of Ah Meng, and immediately asked if they could have her. Apparently they said they would send a van over to the harbour but were told that Ah Meng was on her way in a cab with the barge captain. The crew were in tears waving her off.
Barely in her twenties, she started a new life at the zoo. But Ah Meng was not to be paraded in an ordinary enclosure. Because of her bizarre circumstances and gentle nature, she became a kind of ‘meet ’n greet’ ambassador for the zoo. And as so many people have since told me, she is still there today and will probably continue to delight thousands of people for a long time. You can have your photo taken with her every day at lunch time. I made a date with her, hoping she would give me some tips on bar brawls and cocktails. She had a level gaze, summing me up in a second; I put my arm around her and wished she could talk.
NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS in my lifetime and yours, we will always be involved in the oil business. Every time we start the car, heat the house, cook a meal, watch a war on the news, it reminds me that everything relies on fossil fuels to exist. Try not to think of the human cost, or the environmental cost. By 2080 we need a viable alternative to oil and gas, because by then one-third of our energy needs will have to come from somewhere else. Like solar power, wind power, geothermal power, hydrogen fuel cells, a genetically engineered three-storey hampster in a fuckin’ huge wheel—I don’t know.
In the meantime I’ll keep drilling and writing bad copy. Who knows, I may even find normality . . . even marriage, children, a dog . . . who I will name Colin.
Get back to you in fifteen years.
German grandfather, Berlin, 1942.
My father, 1957.
English grandfather, London, 1943.
Erwin teaching his crew, one job at a time.
Waiting for a chopper, Africa, 2003.
Still waiting, China, 2004.
The off shore workhorse Sikorsky SN-61.
Brunei, our home for three years.
Derrick, looking up from the drill floor (stabbing board on left).
Derrick from the outside with drill pipe racked back in stands.
Drill floor during a typhoon.
Close protection, Nigeria, 2003.
The walkway to the drill floor is aptly named.
Damian discussing confined space anxiety management with Joe, during a visit to Brunei, 1994.
Local visitors, Brunei.
Ah Meng, Singapore.
Live gas well flow test mishap, Philippines, 2001.
Anti-pirate devices, Nigeria.
