Geological Exploration: A True Survival Story in the North Sea

A True Tale of Survival and Exploration

I remember that day vividly. It was May 1990, and I was departing from Scheveningen harbour. My wife and son waved goodbye as I climbed aboard the supply vessel, anticipating another day of geological exploration. Our destination was the O18-1 well, a unique and geologically intriguing site in the Dutch North Sea. This was my fifth offshore well since leaving PDVSA in Venezuela and joining Placid Oil International’s headquarters in The Hague. As chief geologist, I was part of an independent company owned by the Texan billionaire H. Hunt family.

The Hunt family served as inspiration for the well known 1978 to 1991 American prime time soap opera “ Dallas “ with J.R. Ewing acting as oil tycoon. The series revolved around an affluent and feuding Texas family, the Ewings, who owned the independent oil company Ewing Oil.

I was privileged to get to know a few family members rather well while serving Placid Oil. Herbert, one of the brothers and co-owners had also studied geology, as well as his oldest son. Especially during our and it seems the very first capitalistic very successful new venture in then still USSR, 1991, Gorbachev and Glasnost times, I had to work closely with them. As such learned a lot from their entrepreneurial and bold business attitude and mentality. By the way, in daily life, they were very different from the atmosphere as displayed in the soap opera Dallas. In fact very plain, straightforward, humble and nice Texan people. That also happened to be millionaires and even billionaires, rooted in their Texas oil fields and the (in)famous silver deal. It was a great and unique lifetime experience for me.

The crane operator skilfully lifted me in a swaying basket onto the rig. This delicate dance of maritime precision was typical of offshore operations in the bustling North Sea. The day had been routine, filled with the familiar hum of machinery and the rhythmic sway of the sea. But it was the night that etched itself forever in my memory.

The darkness was thick and impenetrable, a wall of mist that swallowed everything beyond the rig’s immediate perimeter. Suddenly, the silence shattered. Alarm bells clanged with urgent intensity, and fog horns blared a desperate warning. In that split second of primal instinct, bolstered by disciplined offshore survival training, I was already moving. My survival suit was on before I could fully process what was happening.

Bursting outside, I saw the Company man’s face, ashen with shock. “We were almost hit,” he said, his Texan accent tight with residual fear. To drill this well, we had positioned ourselves in the treacherous shipping lanes leading to Rotterdam, the world’s busiest port. This maritime highway was a constant stream of massive vessels slicing through the waters with relentless momentum.

A ghost ship had materialized out of the mist, impossibly close, then vanished as silently as it had appeared. Despite the presence of two 24/7 accompanying “Body Guard” vessels, the incident was a stark reminder of the ever-present danger. This was no maritime legend but a heart-stopping moment of real peril.

The O18-1 well was our geological sentinel, drilling into the ancient Dinantian carbonates of the Lower Carboniferous period, dating back 326-359 million years. These reefal limestone formations held a single, mysterious oil show in their core. Unlike the giant fields in the Cretaceous carbonates of Mexico’s Golden Lane, which I had used as an example when presenting the well proposal to our board in Dallas, O18-1 was a geological whisper of prehistoric marine environments.

In that moment, suspended between the ancient geological narrative beneath us and the immediate threat of maritime collision, I was acutely aware of how thin the line is between scientific exploration and survival. The North Sea, with its mercurial moods and busy maritime arteries, had once again reminded us of its unpredictable nature.

This true story, etched in my memory, is where geological exploration met maritime drama—a night I would never forget. The experience underscored the significance of our work and the ever-present challenges that come with exploring the unknown.

11 March 2025, on BBC:

“ A massive ship came from out of the blue “ says a sailor, who was on board an oil tanker that collided with a cargo ship in the North Sea on Monday, 10 March 2025. I had the same feeling and about the same experience, on the drill rig, back in 1990. The collision involved the US-registered Stena Immaculate – which was transporting jet fuel on behalf of the US military – and the Portuguese-flagged Solong, which was carrying highly toxic chemicals.