Over the past few years, since I’ve been working out of the Northern Rockies in the oilfield, running fishing tools, a lot of my friends have asked me what, exactly, do I do.
Another winter has pretty much passed in the Williston basin, and I am glad of it. We didn’t have much snow this winter, which made for better road conditions, but the temperature and wind chills set records.
I read in the news the other day that America may pass Saudi Arabia as the world’s largest producer of oil and gas. This certainly comes as a pleasant surprise to those of us who lived through previous booms and subsequent busts. It’s kinda like the old West Texas bumper sticker that read, “Lord, give us one more boom, we promise not to waste it away,” or words to that effect.
Fall was deceptive this year in the Bakken. Last year, the first frost was Sept. 15. This year, it was in the first week of October. But now, it is in full swing. Twenty degrees is a pleasant day, and it gets as cold as an ex-wife occasionally. I spent one memorable night on a rig floor recently at minus 17 degrees.
I finally got back to work, after spending most of the summer at home with my bride, Lottie. She had some health issues and I was worried, so I spooled up and went to Georgia for the summer. Funny thing is, the weather was perfect up here, but way too hot there. Now, I’m back, and fall is here. It seems a little later this year. Last year, the first freeze was Sept. 15; this year, it’s October already and still fly-season. But it’s coming. I went today and got a bunch of gear to winterize my new trailer: heated water lines and sewer lines, skirting, etc. I figure if I don’t do it now, I’ll be on a job when the weather turns and come back to a frozen shack. I’d like to avoid that, ‘cause I spent last winter in a dry camp with no water or sewer, and I can tell ya that a porta-john is not fun at 20 below. Froze my nether regions to the seat once. Not the kind of place to take a book, but that’s another story.
In the ’70s, after drilling and pushing tools for a few years, I had every roughneck’s dream. Every roughneck I ever met wants to be a fisherman. They see him sit in his truck, making pretty good money, and they trip pipe. That’s gotta be better, right? Sometimes, but not always.
The Bakken formation, mostly in North Dakota, is turning out to be one of the most prolific oil plays in the history of the United States. It was named after Henry Bakken of Tioga, N.D., in 1953.
