Rigging Up: Trip #1

Good day, Dopeheads. Today begins the first installment in an unlimited and informative series of rig terms to educate you about the drilling process. I call it "Rigging Up"

Rigging Up: Any process involved in building the rig, running electrical wires and establishing connections around the rig so it works. (e.g. "Let's rig up the depth encoder so we can track our depth."

Trip: A rig trip is when we move pipe in or out of the hole, usually to change the BHA (bottom hole assembly). (e.g. "We're tripping out because the bit is worn.")

BHA: Bottom Hole Assembly. This changes often but usually includes the drilling bit, the mud motor, the non-magnetic monels, heavyweight drill pipe, stabilizer subs and a number of other metal connections at the bottom of the tool string. (e.g. "Time to change the BHA.")

Joint: A piece of drilling pipe usually about 28' to 32' in length. (e.g. "We have 130 joints in the hole")

Sub: A shorter metal connection with a pin and box end or box to box end for connections various other joints...usually between 2' and 9' in length. (e.g. "Pick up that muleshoe sub so we can orient the mudmotor.")

Now people wouldn't think of the oilfield as a glamorous place but Hollywood and Aerosmith obviously thought so and made the blockbuster hit, Armageddon (Touchstone Pictures, 1998) to romanticize the world of drilling. In this spirit, y'all should know that we have a catwalk on location. The catwalk is a length of plank iron that extends off the sub-floor of the drilling rig. The catwalk is where we lay pieces of pipe before we pick them up and connect them to the drill string before and after we connect them to the rest of the pipe. It's a waiting area. Just as in the world of high-fashion, the catwalk is a dangerous place and easy to fall from.

Also, my dad is "unbreakable" like Bruce Willis.

Just another day in paradise. Hope to see y'all soon.
rf

Taking it to the Man.

At $30.00+/barrel most Americans have not had to worry about filling up at the pump lately, compared to one year ago when some parts of the country were paying $4.50/gallon. I guess the public is really taking it to the man these days. But I've got to tell you...I am the man. In all senses of the phrase. Now, I dabbled in pacifism and hippie-ism for about 9 college months but in growing a bit older and wiser I can safely say that we need the man. As Pacino said, "You need people like me!"

The threat of $30.00 oil is upon us. At $30.00/barrel, energy companies can not finance land leases, rig leases, pipe costs and production costs. Truly, oil needs to level out at about $80.00/barrel before we start seeing a significant economic stimulus. On average, global petroleum production is down 25% this year. Russia needs to garner $70.00/barrel to remain solvent and OPEC needs $55.00/barrel. In turn new exploration projects have been postponed for 2 plus years and the Athabaskan tar sands (speculated to place Canada, our best friend, as the largest oil producing country in the world by 2010) has been put on hold until further notice. Due to these recent economic difficulties oilfield workers are being laid-off or let go daily. Not to mention the truckers, welders, and specialty service hands that remain unemployed. Mexico (our number 3 source of imports) is on the road to civil war as the 20% decline in oil production and exportation has left it's burgeoning drug trafficking business as it's number one grossing industry. War and blow flood the streets...Tony Montana would be proud.

I am thankful to be working, whether I am the hated man or not. The supply has met the demand recently, leaving the best of the best out here in the field. Meanwhile, many men sit at home without income. There are workers out here that have not asked for a day off in 6 months fearing they will be perceived as complacent or unappreciative and then they will be replaced. It's a tough world we live in and sometimes I feel ashamed to tell old college friends that I drill for oil and gas, but we live in America. This is capitalism and smoking dope doesn't pay the mortgage-- pipe dope does. It is fantastic to have ideal goals and to work for a greener tomorrow but we must be thankful for the resources we have today. But get ready folks, I foresee an increase in gas prices. Somewhere in the $2.50 to $3.00 range. Try not to loathe it...look at it as economic stimulus. We don't have battery powered vehicles yet. And remember Scarface is the bad guy but I'll be your Huckleberry.

Cheers,
rf

It's All Connected

The oilfield, as with life, is all about connections. Each time we put a new piece of drill pipe in the hole we call it, "making connection". The tool string must remain connected lest we lose it downhole. Most workers out here follow rigs because they enjoy the connections that they make with other workers. All of our computers are networked together so we can share information and thanks to this internet we can all remain connected even while hundreds and thousands of miles away.

The world's universal syntax was proven once again this morning when I began watching Thelma and Louise (MGM Studios, 1991). The movie's plot takes place in the south where an Arkansas waitress and a housewife shoot a rapist and take off in a '66 Thunderbird. By the way, I think, this is Geena Davis' most becoming role otherwise I don't find her very attractive.

After being in Arkansas for the last couple of weeks, I am now in Alvarado, TX and the name of this well is... the "Thelma Louise". The only difference is that no one out here plans on pushing this sucker to the edge and going down in flames. Stay linked up.

See you soon.
rf

On the road again

Finished up in Arkansas. Experienced an hellacious hail storm and drove to Houston where I relaxed for 1.5 days. Now I'm heading to Fort Worth, Texas. I'll let you know how the soul is doing in a day or so. Much love to all you dopers. Total miles traveled in past three weeks = 3,993.

I thought I was the bionic man

I think my friends and acquaintances would agree that my current occupation is unique. In order to work on an oil rig you must live on or near the jobsite. Drilling doesn't happen in Manhattan. Needless to say my lifestyle has changed a bit. It's kind of like camping everyday...with satellite TV and internet...and a microwave. Gym access is hard to come by so push-ups, sit-ups and running are my options. The nearest restaurant or Wal-Mart is usually about 30 miles away and Mom's home cookin' might as well be on Mars.

So one gets to thinking about their body and lifestyle. Which has me contemplating the vast and inconceivable genius that lies within our own flesh. We have the perfect machine. The human body is always working and many industries have copied our biological functions for profit and posterity.

An oil rig is just like a human body. Bare with me. Mud pumps, like our very own heart, pump drilling fluid through the standpipe (comparable to our aorta) and down the kelly to the bit or bottom end of the drilling pipe (like our hand or foot).

The mud or drilling fluid, much like human blood, then flows up the wellbore annulus, just as veins would carry un-oxygenated blood, and returns to the shakers and mud pits to be purified and recycled. Just like our lungs, kidneys and liver would do.

Of course there are computers and sensors all about the rig that act as our brain and central nervous system would- monitoring and adjusting the mechanical process of the rig. However at the end of the day we men are still responsible for turning these machines on. And while we rest our body regenerates and cleans itself when the rig just sits atop a mountain waxing rust. We are ultimately the brains and muscles of the rig...making human once again victorious as captains of the food chain.

But when this blog starts typing itself, that's when I'm heading for the hills...or Cuba, I hear it's nice this time of year.

Don't stop believing.
RF

Back on the Juice!

Coffee and oil just go well together. They're both brown liquid commodities. They are a source of energy for millions even billions of people. They fluctuate in value greatly and people have been known to kill for both.

I have a friend from college. Let's call him Dave Alviso. Great man. Dave was once seen rollerskating (not inlining) down Commonwealth Avenue in Boston with a flowing ponytail, jean shorts, large metallic boombox and a shear polyester mesh cut-off tee that would make The Artist Formerly know as Prince "wanna be your lover." I believe it was a Tuesday in April...not Halloween. Just for fun. He later received the lifestyle award from one R.M. Schneiderman. So you can see why I value Mr. Alviso's opinion greatly.

In college, amidst a dewy cloud of marijuana smoke, Dave was asked if he wanted a cup off coffee. In a stern but nonchalant manner, he quickly replied, "I don't do drugs." A poignant and situationally hilarious comment. I now understand him completely. I've been back in the oilfield for almost two weeks and I'm hooked on the java. Granted my sleep schedule is all askew and I often need a caffeine boost but I thought I was a stronger man. I have gone nearly a year without any coffee arousal and her I am perking up a pot every 3 hours.

Got me thinking that there must be a reason that coffee and oil have been running the world for so long. We're hooked. I guess just like the oilfield, once coffee gets in your blood, you just can't resist the temptation to dip back into your old ways.

Keep it clean, mean gene.
rf, over and out.

Shomer Shabas!

Just as Walter Sobchak (The Big Lebowski, Polygram Filmed Entertainment, 1998) "don't roll on shabas..." I don't blog on Sundays. You've been forewarned and that's all I have to say about that.

Have splendid day.