THE WILD GAS FIELDS OF ALBERTA 1997

This next post is from a time, while I was still trying to run my own business, in Calgary. It had been a whirlwind of work for the last 3 years. The contracts I received, had kept my butt overseas, much of the time. For most of this period, my time had been split between Thailand, Scotland, Norway and Mexico. Almost always, I had to travel alone, something which Deysi and I vowed would not happen.

The dreams and visions of calling the “shots” were now gone. Here I was, basically, taking whatever job was offered, but still dreaming of the day when I could pick and choose. Many times, I said yes to a job, that I wanted to say NO too. My ego took a bruising, yet I had managed to survive, for longer than most, thought possible.

Finally, nearly 3 years in, there was an opportunity to work in Alberta for a few months. Eureka, my dream was about to come true! At that point, it would have been better to run and hide. However, there still remained, the innocence of the “dreamer” in me. An opportunity to stay at home! I almost fell over myself as I slobbered out, “yes I’ll do it!” Why didn’t I recognize the obvious. If what they offered, was in any manner, easy or well paying, then it would not have come to me. Once again my rose coloured glasses and my big mouth were about to land me in a world of trouble. I’m now back, in my own territory, and soon felt more danger than most places I had ever been.

The project was simple, it just required me to “shut down” a few natural gas leases for the owner, of my primary client’s, company. By now I should have read the warning signs. It all started with, “it’s an easy job, Jimbo, anyone could do it, but we thought of you first”. The whole room smelled of “bullshit”, yet I thought it was “steaks”. “All you need to do, is go into the western part of the Alberta prairies, and close down some gas-well leases”.”Then just give the land back to the farmers and come home”. A big ol’ box full of documents, contracts, maps and correspondence, was then thrust upon me. “Read these” were the parting words. Even then, I did not feel the knife in my back, as he removed my kidney.

Happily, in my ignorance, I hurry back to my office, too tell Deysi of our good luck. She pretended to be excited, but I’m sure she was thinking, “if it’s that easy of a deal, you sure as hell wouldn’t have got it!” Nonetheless for a brief period of time we were happy with our success. We had finally “arrived”. I was about to become an Albertan “oilman”. By now, you are probably thinking, get to the point you old fool. However, some of the ground work, needed to be laid out. For the next 6 months, I learned how much, I truly disliked gas wells, farmers and their lawyers. In this short period, a life lesson was provided too me. I could have studied years in University to arrive at the same place. The words, “I hated every minute of it”, are far too mild.

At the outset of this contract, a great deal of time was spent studying the rules, and accepted practise for abandoning drilled wells. Since a great deal of my experience surrounded the Oil and Gas Industry, I already knew many of the terms. First impressions left me with a feeling that the cards were stacked in favour of the “poor farmer”. As it turned out, that was completely true. The process had been started, years earlier, by an energy company. Who, after using witchcraft, had determined there may be something of value under a farmer’s field. They then negotiated with the farmer for access to the land, to see if somehow they could make them both rich, by finding “liquid gold” in the depths of that field.

At this point, the farmer, now supported by a legal advisor, valiantly resisted allowing a “big, bad” company, to try and make him rich. Their piece of crap land, all of the sudden held untold beauty. At this point, the farmer, apparently, could not live, with someone drilling into his soil. This, in spite of being paid far, far more for access, to drill on a tiny piece of their land; than they would have made, by farming the same small piece. Ultimately, after being given, many times more than what the piece of land was worth, the farmer agreed to then sit back and collect his rent. The battle was fierce and left both parties with a major dislike of one another. Years then pass, the drilling happens and for the most part, nothing of value is found under the land. Now enter ol’ Jimbo Red.

As is the case in the majority of drilling operations, eventually the energy company wants to abandon the operation. This is either because they found no “gold”, or not enough to make further operation profitable. At this point they send in someone like me to advise the landowner, that they give up, and intend to return the land to them. Because the landowner had fought so vigorously to keep the driller off his land, I expected to be welcomed with open arms. How surprised I was, when met with anger and resistance, that ranged from passive to openly threatening. Another life lesson was now laid at my feet. The farmer now, realizing that the “gravy train” was now over, would ask, “how could a company, that we have treated as family, now abandon us”? Geezus!

As hard to believe as it might be, this is what I was faced with, when I showed up with the equipment, I needed, to “shut in” the well, reclaim the land and return it to the landowner. I was dumbstruck. After reading of the epic battle that had raged at the outset, it was now apparent, that it might have only been a “ruse”, to increase the value of the lease. The landowner now came up with every excuse imaginable to prevent me from returning their land. When it became obvious, that I was not going away, then the resistance became more aggressive.

At one point, I was even threatened by an elderly lady, with being shot. “If she mistook me for a bear” on her property. This same gentle soul, cried tears as big as “horse turds”, when confronted in an arbitration proceeding to resolve an impasse. The arbiter, decided that I must have been “picking on” the poor “gentle soul”, to make her want to shoot me. At the same time, south of me, a landowner had shot and killed another “oilman” leading a party similar to mine. All of the sudden I was very uncomfortable in this work. The distant “backfire” of a piece of farm equipment, could bring me to the point of “soiling” myself.

Not only were the landowners annoying, resistant and somewhat dangerous, the rules of reclaiming the lease were near impossible. After you had entered onto a property to clear some land for a lease the rules kicked in. For instance, the earth that you moved to clear out a flat base for your access road and operations; had to be kept in a certain sequence. The first layer of soil was stored at the edge of the lease, and each subsequent layer removed, was stored separately from one another. This allowed the soils to be replaced in exactly to same layers as those removed. Once again, Geezus, slipped out of my mouth. Have you any idea what piled up soil looks like after 10 years or so. It looks like a big pile of dirt with weeds growing thru it. The first layer was indistinguishable from the top (or last) layer.

Rules were rules, apparently. There was no way they would allow me to go buy, fifty or sixty truckloads of good, rich, Alberta topsoil to use. Nope, you must replace, the “crap” soil you took out, layer by layer in the same thickness as it was removed. To make sure this was done, the Government of Alberta, sent out an idiot to insure that you did not “cheat” the landowner, out of even a tablespoon, of his crap dirt. This took place while, the farmer was finding whatever roadblocks, he could, to throw in your way of completion. At the same time, I was dragged into arbitration hearings in front of another idiot, pretending to be saving the world. Even the access road into the land, had to be removed without a trace.

Many the times, when I wanted to “cut and run” from this nightmare. Not ol’ Jimbo Red though! I just cussed and swore and kicked things around, until finally they were all done! My work finished, I left Alberta, for “anyplace” else that I might find work. I had come, seen, conquered and disappeared without a trace, not even one pebble out of place. It had been 6 long months of frustrating work. This story only touches on a small piece of my torture. Just enough to remind me, if I ever think of it again.