The North Sea, late 1970s
We sailed around midnight. Unusually, the weather was rather pleasant; a moonlit night with hardly any wind. Sailing at midnight was a tradition; I was told that contractually it was advantageous to leave port either just before or just after twelve o’clock, (I can’t remember which), in reality it probably had more to do with closing time at the local bars.
The next morning found us about 50miles out on our way to the Ekofisk oil field, which sits just about in the middle of the Southern North Sea. Simple mathematics will tell you that this was not the fastest tub on the block. After breakfast we made our way up to the bridge where the captain was deep in a book, autopilot engaged, enjoying the morning sunshine. The Surveyor started writing up the log and setting out the survey line plan while I started getting the navigation receivers set up. We only really knew where we were during daylight hours in those days, because for very good scientific reasons the positioning systems didn’t work worth a damn after sundown. Very convenient from the crewing point of view but not so great for the oil company, each morning there was a ritual tweaking of various controls to get everything working again.
After about 10 minutes the surveyor said to me “did you notice that the engines have stopped?” looking out of the bridge window I could see that we had slowed to a halt. The bridge on these vessels was a long way from the engine room so there was hardly any engine noise. A quick check out of the rear bridge windows confirmed that the rusty flaps over the engine exhausts had flopped down, indicating that the engines had both stopped. The surveyor remarked to the skipper that the engines had stopped. The skipper looked up from his book and said “Oh that will be Charley messing around with the engines”.
Half an hour later both the surveyor and I went back down to the galley for a cup of coffee, Charley the Chief Engineer was also in the galley having his coffee. We mentioned that the engines were stopped, “Oh that’ll be the skipper, he’s always messing around with the throttles”
The weather mercifully remained almost flat calm and the sun continued to shine…
The Ekofisk complex.
The contract was a little unusual; our boat was to work not only as a survey vessel around the Ekofisk oil field but also act as a supply boat, carrying containers and equipment between the various Ekofisk structures. It had been a supply boat at some point in the distant past, built to operate around the (then) shallow oilfields of the near-shore Gulf of Mexico. By the standards of the late 1970s it was not really a competitor to other supply boats, notably the highly maneuverable and powerful German boats working in the much harsher conditions in the North Sea. But in the great tradition of “best bang for the buck” the oil company had been convinced that this was a great plan, killing two birds with one stone and getting the survey boat (largely regarded as a waste of money) to do something useful.
After arriving at the Ekofisk field we spent a day or two just floating around waiting for a task. Eventually (because I suspect, the other supply boats were busy elsewhere) we were asked to back up to the main “tank” at the Ekofisk complex to take some equipment on board.
The Ekofisk “tank” was a huge concrete structure surrounding the supporting metal legs of the platform*. It looked like it was made of a very large version of those decorative bricks that you can get for your garden – you know the ones with holes for the plants to grow through. The holes in this case were large enough for a person to stand up in but small enough to prevent errant vessels from getting through and damaging the steel platform legs, a little like a huge concrete burkha protecting the leg structure within extending all the way to the seabed 400ft below.
Our vessel was equipped with aft facing engine controls, allowing the skipper to go to the back of the bridge and control the vessel while facing aft looking out over the long back deck. In this case however, while the two main engines could be controlled while facing aft the bow thruster could not (broken I think). Since there was only one senior crew member, the Skipper or the Mate, on watch at a time the Surveyor was asked to operate the bow thruster on voice command from the Skipper. Presumably on the basis that the surveyor could at least be relied on to know Port from Starboard.
We made our way across to the main Ekofisk platform, 1 mile out we made the required call to Ekofisk traffic that we were backing up to the South side of the Tank and received permission to approach. With the Skipper facing aft, and the surveyor operating the bowthruster we started moving backwards to position ourselves under one of the tower cranes that had already dropped the equipment to a height of perhaps 100 ft above the waves.
An oil production platform is a very large and imposing structure, especially from a distance of a few hundred feet, the Ekofisk tower cranes were around 400ft above sea level, (personnel basket transfers* were not for the faint of heart). As we moved closer the enormous structure towered over us, with the Skipper calling “full port” or “half starboard” and juggling the two main engine controls we seemed to be making slow but apparently controlled progress into position; the deck crew were positioned expectantly on the back deck waiting to grab the container.
Then both main engines quit. They quit of course while we were moving astern, due perhaps to an over enthusiastic application of “full ahead” to slow our rearward progress, by this time we were only about 100 feet from the tank, everyone watched as the two little flaps over the exhausts flopped down, and we continued backwards towards the enormous concrete structure of the tank.
Events like this always occur in slow motion. Our speed was probably less than 2 kts, which meant that we covered the distance to the tank in about 35secs. I could hear desperate engine-starting noises coming from the engine room during this period, however there was never any doubt about the outcome, getting the engines going always took about 5 minutes per engine
It was not a very large vessel, if I recall it was about 90ft long with a displacement of 5,000tons, still the crash was pretty impressive, a large cloud of expensive Norwegian* concrete dust, sparks and smoke from the rear bumper (fortunately the stern of even old supply boats is re-enforced to prevent serious damage) and the whole boat bouncing around like a very large bell.
A few minutes silence, then first one then the other exhaust flaps opened, indicating that the main engines were running again, allowing us to retreat to a safe distance.
We were not party to the conversations that followed between the Ekofisk engineers, our vessel and the vessel owners. It is safe to assume that they went along the lines of “Fix your f***ing vessel or f*** off!!” but very politely and in Norwegian of course, the Norwegians are a very organized people and have difficulty understanding how things this could possibly occur. On the other hand they also drink the worst and most expensive beer on the planet – I digress.
We were not run off, (the tempting bottom line of a cheap supply boat apparently overcame even the Norwegian better judgment) however part of the deal was that the Engineering Superintendent of the vessel would come out and personally make sure that the engines behaved themselves.
He arrived the next day, flown out by helicopter, basket transfer from the platform to one of the mighty (expensive) German supply boats and then an inflatable rescue boat transfer from there to us. “No no, captain you just stay still, we will come to you”…
The stocky, normally bellicose Geordie* arrived looking a little pale and shaky. He went below with the chief engineer.
Parts were needed, flown out by helicopter and fitted. The entire operation took about 48hours by which time the superintendent was looking just a little seedy, unshaven and covered in grease (why had he arrived in his suit?).
Communications from ship to shore in those days were tricky and involved calling one of the coastal radio stations. Humber Radio* was used in this case I think because hardly anybody used it apart from the fishermen (still a few around) and it was therefore just a little more secure, but anybody could listen in if you knew the frequency. Humber Radio was sleepy at the best of times and setting up a call could take a couple of hours. By the time the Engineering Superintendent had set up his call with the boss of our company, we were once again backing in towards the Tank to pick up some equipment.
The Superintendent (who also presumably knew port from starboard) was operating the bow thruster and holding the radio telephone, he had just said “yes Mr. ( I wish I could remember the name) everything is fine now, you won’t have any more trouble” when both the little rusty flaps over the engine exhausts floppy dejectedly down, and we were once more heading for an appointment with some Norwegian concrete.
Funny story. Well it was at the time, nobody got killed because the weather was one of the calmest periods anybody could remember in the North Sea. It could have been a disaster, thank heavens these days there are very strict rules about these things, so nothing like this could ever happen again…
Could it?
Bibliography
*Platform, a permanent structure on the seabed. Properly called an Oil Production Platform. Not be confused with an Oil Drilling Rig, which is mobile.
*Geordie, inhabitant of the once mighty shipbuilding city of Newcastle in the North of England, noted for a dry sense of humor, a rather unusual accent and a tendency to call all females “petal”. They can drink huge quantities of beer, usually Newcastle Brown, this beverage was also known as “The Geordie Infuriator”
*Norwegian, native of Norway also known for shipbuilding, usually very rich, very organized and, as has been previously noted having dreadful and expensive beer.
*Basket Transfer, the (now illegal) preferred method of transferring people by crane from an oil platform to a vessel using a small platform surrounded by ropes. The transferee(s) stood on the outside and clung to the ropes, placing their luggage inside the basket… (use your imagination)
*Humber Radio, call sign GKZ located in the beautiful seaside resort of Mablethorpe, Lincolnshire on the East Coast of England. D.H.Lawrence was a frequent visitor to Mablethorpe, the town is mentioned in “Sons and Lovers”
