Ekofisk AlphaA Story by NoelHC A true story, evacuating a burning production platform
November 1, 1975 started out much like any other day on Phillips Petroleum production platform Ekofisk Alpha, on the Norwegian Continental shelf. The day was calm and clear and the sea was smooth. It gave no indication of the hell that was to break loose in a few hours.
The platform was located in the North Sea, about 300 km south west of Stavanger, where I was living at the time. I had arrived on the platform the day before. The drilling of production wells had been completed, and I only had to supervise the packing and removal of all the drilling fluid materials on board the rig to other active drilling platforms in the field. I also had to pack up our testing equipment from our small lab on board to return to our base in Tananger, Norway. Compared to the long hours I often had to put in when I was on my 16 day shift, this rotation was going to be easy, and would only last a day or two. I flew out from the helicopter base in Sola on one of the huge Sea King helicopters that would ferry crews back and forth from land to the production fields. The helicopter landed at Ekofisk Tank, the central production facility, where I waited for a smaller Bell 212 to shuttle over to Ekofisk Alpha. I was pleased to see my friend Terje was piloting, he learned to fly in Viet Nam, and treated every take off and landing like it was a hot landing zone. True to form, we lifted off, nosed forward and shot off over the end of the landing pad, swooped to the left, and headed over to my platform. Every time I rode in one of these, all I could think of was Huey helicopters in Viet Nam, and scenes from Apocalypse Now. I spent the day sorting out the sacks of drilling mud material left on board, taking inventory, and supervising the loading of sea containers for transport. It was getting near the end of the afternoon, and almost all the material had been gone through. I was looking forward to finishing, having a quick shower, a good dinner, and possibly take in a movie that evening. I would have to go to the radio room and book my flight back to shore on the next available helicopter in the morning. My thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang. I felt a strong vibration through the steel deck under my feet. My initial reaction was that one of the slings on the container had broken, and it had fallen and hit the landing deck outside the warehouse I was working in. I looked in that direction, expecting to see a container spilled on the deck. Instead, I saw a massive wall of angry, orange, rolling flame, engulfing the entire opening of the warehouse doorway. Fire alarms began to wail, but they were not necessary, the roar of the flame, and the banshee scream of gas escaping was its own signal. My first reaction was to head to the life boats, as we had been trained in countless drills, in the opposite direction of the flames, through the warehouse door on the other side, but at the moment I turned to go that way, an identical wall of flame rolled up there. "F**k," I thought "we have a blow-out! Where is the nearest life boat from here?" I decided the station at the drill floor was closest to me. Although I would have to go through the well-head deck to get to it, I could see no fire in the area, I began going to the walkway to get out of the warehouse. I ran into a number of Norwegian production operators all coming from that direction, panicked looks on their faces. They were all talking loudly, and I wasn't understanding much of what they had to say, except the word for fire, brann. Yeah, no kidding, guys, I figured that out all by myself. The only direction left was through the fire pump room in the opposite direction, to the life boat stations by the living quarters. One of the operators opened the doors, and we all could see the fire pump room was fully involved, in flames. This is not a good thing, I think. There must have been 6 or 7 of us there, all confused as to what to do next. We noticed the flames on the warehouse door on one side had subsided, and we headed in that direction to check it out. There were no life boats on this side, but there was an open boat that was used for work party safety watch, it was part of the rescue plan if a man fell overboard. We began going down the stairs to the launch deck, and could see other evacuees coming there from a number of other directions as well. Once outside, it was easy to see the fire was mainly confined to the living quarters, and the life boat stations I would normally go to there were also in flames. We boarded the open boat in an orderly fashion, there was 35 or 40 of us in a boat designed for 20 passengers, but the sea was as smooth as glass, and we were in no danger of capsizing. A supply boat had been moored to the platform, taking on bulk materials no longer required on board. When the explosion occurred, they disconnected quickly and pulled off from the platform. Our small boat headed over to it, and we clambered over the sides to safety. Finally we had a clear view of the platform we had just left. Fire was concentrated around the living quarters, but appeared to be becoming smaller and less intense. We could see orange survival capsules bobbing in the ocean, other supply ships were maneuvering to pick up the crew from them. After circling around to ensure there were no people in the water, the ship set course for the central platform. Getting off the boat and on to the platform was more frightening than the fire, as we had to stand on a large ring, like a life buoy, the ring suspended from a cradle of rope, the whole assembly was lifted by the platform crane, about 100 meters up to the platform deck. I hated that system, but sometimes it was the only way to make a crew change. We were gathered on board, the rig medics checked us all out, and then we were told to wait, while injured personnel were medi-vaced by helicopter to town. Rumour and speculation ran wild amongst us, dozens of theories as to what had happened, how many were injured, killed, missing. I knew for sure of three dead, as I saw the body bags on the helideck while getting off the man lift basket. We waited our turn for flights back to the heliport, I finally was put on one of the last flights. I expected to take a cab home, and go to bed. I was met there by my boss who insisted I come with him to his house for the night, in case I had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or something. The next day more information became available. It wasn't a production well that blew out. There was a pipeline from our platform to the central facility, and at the splash zone where the metal was continuously immersed and exposed as the sea level changed with the waves and the tides, corrosion had set in, eventually the pipe wall thinned, then failed, it burst, and a mixture of light crude oil cut with natural gas was released. This mixture was ignited, and the fire spread. The line was right under the kitchens of the living quarters. At the other end of the pipeline a shut down valve closed when the loss in pressure was sensed, but there was a few kilometres of highly combustible product trapped between the valve and the broken pipe. The fire burned for about 25 minutes, until all the hydrocarbons in the line were consumed. The platform crew of 65 evacuated safely, except for 6 who had gone to the drill floor capsule, the one I was heading for when I ran into the production operators. Somehow, although it was supposed to be impossible, they managed to release the capsule from its single mooring hook, and it dropped to the sea, about 40 metres below. The impact killed three, and injured the other three severely. I had to return to the platform a few weeks later, to collect up our lab equipment. Access was only in daylight hours, as the platform was completely shut down, no power, no production, while repairs were being made. It was eerie walking around, exploring in the relative silence, looking at the burned and scorched structure, seeing how the water cannons from the fire fighting boats had bent and twisted strong metal structures. I don't know if it is my lack of imagination, my fatalistic nature, maybe my calm, steely nerves, who knows, but this incident has not bothered me, recurred to me in nightmares, or any of the other things you might think such an experience would cause. © 2015 NoelHCFeatured Review
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Added on April 16, 2014Last Updated on March 16, 2015 |
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