Two green, inexperienced Americans taking their first flight
to of all place, Benghazi, Libya. Riots in the street, roaring sandstorms, and
screaming crowds of Libyans. Landing on one wheel on a windswept runway after
being in the red sand desert for 23 days. Listening to President Kennedy’s
funeral via short wave radio and candle light. Driving for hours across a
trackless desert to see the Lady Be Good a WW II B-24 bomber that was lost in
the desert, and then becoming lost!
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Benghazi Journal: Benghazi Journal--a BLOWOUT!
Benghazi Journal: Benghazi Journal--a BLOWOUT!: I’ll be leaving Libya after two more assignments in the desert. Today, I’m back on Santa Fe rig #2, where a good friend, Clyde McFarland...
Benghazi Journal--a BLOWOUT!
I’ll be leaving
Libya after two more assignments in the desert. Today, I’m back on Santa Fe rig
#2, where a good friend, Clyde McFarland, is the tool-pusher. We’re getting
near our main objective, the M-10 Zone, and I’m keeping a close watch on the
drilling. The last sample of drill cuttings I examined is beginning to have a
show of oil. I’m stepping out of the mud-logging trailer to tell the mud-logger
to catch another sample, wash the mud off, and bring it to me—and hurry.
“Jim, as soon as we drill another
five feet, tell the driller to stop drilling and circulate. Check the lag time
and catch a sample of what we have just drilled. I think we’re in the top of
the M-10, and I don’t want to drill any deeper in the zone until I see what the
next sample looks like.”
Jimmy Pearson, who’s in charge of
the monitors in the gas detection trailer and works for me, is up on the rig
floor when Clyde McFarland walks up.
“Richard, we’re getting a drilling
break. Last two feet drilled at two minutes a foot.”
“Sounds like we are in the top of
the M-10,” I reply. “I have Jim catching another sample. After I take a look,
we may want to stop and run a DST.” A DST, which is an abbreviation for
Drill-Stem-Test, is a procedure to test a formation to see if it contains oil
or gas.
As I wait on Jim to wash the sample,
I notice the drill-string is dropping quickly.
“Hey, that last two feet drilled a
minute per foot!” Clyde yells. He’s looking at the geolograph, which marks each
foot drilled. We are in what we call an excellent drilling break, indicating
the bit is drilling a soft, friable, and porous sand—a very good sign, especially
with the show I spotted in the last sample.
“Clyde, tell the driller to
circulate while I check the samples from that drilling break.”
Clyde signals the driller, who sets
the brake and stops drilling. Mud is still being pumped down the drill pipe,
and it will circulate up the cuttings. (Ground up sandstone or limestone)
“We might have something here…
Whoa!” My mouth drops open as drilling mud kicks halfway up the derrick.
Clyde screams at the driller. “Shut it in! Shut it in!
Blowout! Blowout!”
The driller heads for the automation
shut-in leaver, but slips in the drilling mud that is splashing on the rig
floor and falls down. Only seconds have passed since the well started
unloading, but the well is already blowing mud and gas through the top of the
draw-works. In about 10 seconds, it sounds as if a half-dozen freight trains
are coming through the location. We have a full scale blowout on our hands.
Clyde runs toward the substructure
of the rig as the entire crew of Libyans dash past him running for their lives.
That’s when the steady hand of an experienced New Mexico tool-pusher earns his
money. He runs past the fleeing Libyans and heads under the substructure of the
drilling rig to manually close the blowout preventer as the natural gas flow
increases until the shrieking is so loud it pains your ears.
I’m about to join the fleeing
Libyans because the gas and condensate (a natural gasoline) is beginning to
settle around the rig, and I know if a rock from the spewing well hits the iron
substructure of the rig and causes a spark, we’ll be consumed in a huge blast of
fire in seconds. The driller must have hurt his knee because he’s limping
around trying to get in the doghouse to kick in the blowout preventer.
I see Clyde under the rig floor
manually turning the big wheel that operates the blowout preventer as condensate
rains down on him. I literally hold my breath as the valve slowly closes and
the gas flow stops. A few more seconds and Clyde has the well shut-in, and in a
few minutes more, he kicks in the mud pumps to force heavy drilling mud down
the drill pipe to kill the gas flow.
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