The Heart of the Working People Part 2~by John Brown

The Book of John Chapter 1 ~ by John Brown

photo courtesy of John Brown

I began my career in the oil industry in 1977 at age 21, working for an Alberta, Canada-based oilfield service company. We worked mostly in northern Montana but were transferred to the northern Canadian Provinces in the wintertime when the swampy muskeg, or peat bogs, froze. The freezing temperatures, which often reached below -50 degrees Fahrenheit, allowed drilling rigs and other heavy equipment access to the remote areas.

February 1978 found us contracted to work on several oil wells

near the village of Rainbow Lake, Alberta. A long, rutted, rough gravel road from the main highway led to the hamlet deep in the Canadian bush country. The town itself consisted of very few permanent buildings and many pre-fab, temporary camp-like structures that are common in remote boom towns. Our “hotel” was essentially trailers slid together with a common hallway and bathroom, where cots sufficed for beds, but it was a warm, welcome respite from the brutal cold. After stowing our bags in our room, we headed out to a drilling rig, where we worked most of the night.

At morning’s light, we moved down the road to the next well site.

The drilling rig we left to go to the H2S well

The wells in this area were notoriously known as having high concentrations of hydrogen sulfide, or H2S, an extremely poisonous gas that is deadly in small concentrations. Seven hundred parts per million in the air will render a person unconscious at once, with immediate death if not rescued. We had not been supplied with self-contained breathing gear as all available units were needed at the drilling rig.

We rigged up on the well to complete our work as a general work crew, known as roustabouts, prepared the wellhead for us. The well had more pressure than was anticipated and had to be bled down so our operations could commence. They were blowing the well’s tubing down via a flare pipe downwind from us. Something went horribly wrong and the gas diverted to an open tank directly upwind from us.

I was near the wellhead and had a sensation of suffocation, so tried to warn my co-worker. I yelled, “Gas!” as my knees buckled. I do not remember hitting the ground.

My parents always had a big Sunday dinner for as long as I can remember. Suddenly, I was transported home to that dinner table. Home… with Mom, Dad, and my older brother, Rob; eating roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and apple pie for dessert. Home and safe. I started to take a bite of food and felt violently ill.

The roar of our work truck’s power plant was my next sensation, followed by intense cold and inability to see. I tried to rise, but kept falling back. I knew I had to get away, but could not. I heard my co-worker, Ted, ask me if I was alright. He had been throwing snow in my face and was pulling me back down each time I tried to rise. Ted had heard my warning yell and saw me go down. He was overcome when he came to help me, but had regained consciousness before me.

We saw two more people down and tended to them as the people who evacuated the site returned to help. One man had stopped breathing and Ted administered CPR and rescue breathing to revive him.

We radioed in to Rainbow Lake that we were coming in with four H2S victims; thankfully they had a medical clinic. After we spent several hours on oxygen, the other two men were flown out to a hospital for overnight observation.

Later, we found out that the roustabout who was bleeding the well down saw what was happening and somehow shut the well valve before he was overcome. We also found out that this particular well had been tested at 350,000 parts per million of hydrogen sulfide!

photo courtesy of Pexels.com

Apparently, God had a plan for me and it was not my time. We should have all died that day on that frigid, remote well-site.

John Brown continues working in oilfields on the rigs. He and his wife reside in Northern Montana.