When I worked for Esso as a wellsite geologist, I spent up to three weeks at a time living in a trailer 250 miles or so out in the Libyan Sahara Desert. My job was to examine rock samples brought to the surface by the drilling rig to detect the presence of hydrocarbons.
That sounds like a full-time job, but there is a lot of time when a drilling rig is not drilling, and I spent that downtime exploring the desert. I could drive an all-terrain Land Rover across 90 percent of a roadless desert without a problem. Without any appreciable rainfall and almost zero percent humidity, there is no vegetation, and all human-added items, from Greek-Roman ruins to World War II junk, are still sitting in the desert. The old tank tracks and jerry cans made it look as if the World War II Germans had just left.
When the rig stopped to change drilling bits, which took four to eight hours, I would take off into the desert. If we were drilling within 20 miles of the coast, I would be more cautious because the Brits, Americans, and Germans had left a lot of World War II stuff lying around. Anti-personnel mines were everywhere. An Italian geologist was killed when his vehicle ran over one.
On one of my jobs near the coast, I climbed up a little rise about five miles from the rig and sat for a few minutes in a German machine gun nest, complete with barbed wire around the front and empty machine gun cartridges on the ground. The only thing missing was a machine gun. A few miles inland, I came across a biplane, which had crashed and burned on a low hill. It seemed to be much older than World War II.
The coastal area of Libya is also the site of several Greek and later Roman cities, and the preservation of these buildings and temples, especially the second-century amphitheater in Sabratha near Tripoli, is breathtaking. Later, when we were on vacation in Europe, the Greek and Roman ruins were almost a disappointment.
One of my forays to Kufra Oasis was the most interesting. The British Long Range Desert Group made it their staging point during World War II; they would attack German forces on the coast and then hightail it back to Kufra, throwing land mines out to slow down German pursuit.
On the edge of the oasis, I drove by a waist-high stack of land mines, which weren’t even rusted, and treated to a campfire lunch by the village elders. I later drove another 75 miles south to view the Lady Be Good, an off-course American bomber that crash-landed during World War II.
When I was on a drill site in western Libya near the Algerian border, I drove to a broad canyon area where there were ancient petroglyphs, much as they were several thousand years ago, on some of the bare rock walls. On that foray I came across the most remarkable sight I have ever seen as a geologist and paleontologist. Thousands of calcite replacement fossils littered the ground. I have some of them in a home display case.
On the way back to the rig I realized I had driven into Algeria. As what looked like a government vehicle was heading my way, I roared back into Libya, with what I figured was an Algerian patrol vehicle with flashing lights after me.
During one assignment, I noticed a commotion behind the drilling rig, and walked around to see what was going on. It seemed a camel had fallen into the mud pit and drowned, and the camel’s owner was there complaining to the tool pusher.
After some discussion, I saw the toolpusher give the Bedouin some money. I asked the pusher about it later, and he said Esso Libya said to make the guy happy, and it seemed $200 did the trick. However, the next day, I had just finished checking samples when I saw a cloud of dust heading toward the rig. As it got closer, I could tell it was some 10 to 15 camels being herded by several Bedouins. As they got closer it seemed they were being driven straight toward the rig.
It must have occurred to the toolpusher they might cause problems, and then one of the Libyan roughnecks who spoke English yelled to the pusher.
“They are being driven into the mud pit!” he yelled. “What? Why?” “You pay what 10 camels are worth for one!” With the crew of Libyan roughnecks yelling and waving at the camels we’ve diverted, the camel owners were given $10 each for a promise not to let the camels get close to the rig.
Wo rk i n g w i t h a n d around the Libyan people caused very few problems. However, before I started my two-year tour of duty, an American pipeline laying crew did have a problem. It seemed the American supervisors, a five-man team, were accused of being tough taskmasters to the Libyan workers, and that turned into a riot.
The Americans boarded themselves into the dining trailer to let things calm down; when they looked outside it seemed the 50-plus Libyan workers were going to set fire to the trailer. That’s when the job foreman busted up a chair and yelled, “Grab a chair leg and follow me!” The Americans scattered the rioters, and the Libyan government expelled them.
Later, a fellow geologist’s wife, on her first trip to town, hit a camel. It seems the camel ended up on the hood of her car.
Those incidents were always the Americans’ fault. “They would not have happened if they hadn’t come to Libya,” said the authorities.
Email Richard Mason at richard@ gibraltarenergy.com .