TRANSOCEAN LEADER
THE HISTORY:
While Transocean may be a less of a household name than the likes of Shell and BP, they are certainly not to be sneezed at in the oil field. The biggest offshore drilling company in the world may not sell to you at the pump, but they are the workhorse behind the scenes, relentlessly dredging up black sticky stuff from under the sea just so that you can get from one place to another a little more quickly.
As part of their vast fleet, the Transocean Leader was built in South Korea in 1987 primarily for use on the North Sea Continental Shelf – a hotspot for many drilling companies. Designed for water depths of up to 5,500ft (roughly a mile!), this rig could drill for oil 25,000ft (7.6km) below sea level. In order to cater for such deep levels of drilling, Leader had the capacity for over 15,000 barrels of oil, which is 2,400 cubic metres in real money. Getting power hundreds of miles into the North Sea can be a tricky job, so this rig was equipped with four Bergen diesel engines, each about the size of an SUV, along with a further backup engine for if times got tough.
Despite highly lucrative North Sea oil contracts with values in excess of $500,000/day, this rig, like many others, was to be retired and was cold stacked in 2020. Since being stationed in Cromarty Firth, this rig has sat vacant and gathering rust before it can be recycled for steel and the process can repeat itself like flora and fauna.
THE EXPLORE:
Deciding to take the plunge with Cromarty Firth in the middle of a week-long Scottish road trip meant the late starts and relaxed explores we had been used to had to be put on the backburner and it was time instead to lock in.
Alas, the benefit of our early start was characteristically eroded when we realised we’d driven to the wrong side of the estuary and were hit with the 40 minute drive round to the other side! Notwithstanding this hiccup, once we got there the sun was shining, the boat was inflating correctly and spirits were higher than Bob Marley on the 20th April, which is how you know something was about to go terribly wrong. As we’d learnt from past experience, the boat is precarious enough with three people in it, so getting @UrbandonedTeam @jtza Alex and me across in one go was never going to happen, so I waited patiently at the shore and watched the other three jet off into the open sea before Alex would, if all went to plan, return to collect me. All seemed to be going smoothly and I hopped into my returning taxi on the water and we set off towards the rig that Alistair and Theo had, as far as we were aware, began exploring. Looking back, I should have seen the engine’s frequent tendency to cut out as a form of divine intervention, but after a few bursts of rowing (and realising we’d accidentally closed the engine air intake) we refused to let anything get in our way of getting on board the rig that lay before us, and we were soon docked at the bottom of the legs and beginning our journey up the stairs.
The Stena Spey rig was not what it seemed...
The first thing that struck me as odd about this rig was that it was making a hell of a lot of noise… The constant high pressure jets of water coming out of the side of the legs did little to ease the mind of worry but we continued nevertheless and assumed the rig was indeed abandoned, primarily based on my ill-advised opinion that because there were no boats docked at the base of the rig there couldn’t possibly be anybody on board. How wrong you can be.
Walking along the decks of the rig and peering nosily into all the bedrooms it was clear that this rig was not in use – the bedrooms were stripped, nothing looked in a state to be used and, being just a mile from the shoreline and in a notorious oil rig graveyard, it certainly wasn’t actively drilling. However, as I wandered along the upper deck by myself I was met with a jump scare I certainly wasn’t ready for: a man! Opening a red metal door which couldn’t be more than three metres from where I was standing, a worker walked out right in front of me and threw a rubbish bag into the outside bins before returning back inside the rig. To this day I have no idea how he didn’t see me, we literally locked eyes for fuck’s sake, but he didn’t. I can online imagine that living alone or with a very limited number of skeleton crew staff makes you blind to even the idea that anybody else could be on board. Safe to say we were straight down those steps out and onto the evac boat before the rig police could make an appearance.
Once we were all back at the car and still buzzing for a rig explore – preferably one which is actually abandoned – we decided to return back to our initial starting point on the other side of the estuary and go for one of the rigs closer to that side.
Repeating the same transport process as before, we were soon all aboard the Transocean Leader which definitely was abandoned – confirmed primarily by the death-drop climb we had to undertake in order to get past the railings and onto the deck. Being on board felt like an unbelievable achievement, especially considering the situation we’d been in just hours before, and while memories of Brent Alpha from many years prior kept coming to mind, there is nothing quite like looking down from those dangling lifeboats and actually just seeing the vast ocean before you. I’d heard comments from people who had done off-shore rigs before that the silence out there at sea is very calming, but I was in no way prepared for the sheer tranquillity you feel being out on deck. The sea was as flat and reflective as a decorative mirror and there was not a sound to be heard except my own feet walking along the metal grating. As a result of the serenity on the rig we perhaps stayed longer than we even needed to, just taking in the stunning Scottish Highlands and breathing a sigh of gratified relief that we’d successfully executed the plan which had been in the pipeline for months.
Main control room
A typical cabin
The Boardroom - the hanging bags of silica gel were ubiquitous around this platform to prevent decay
The sick bay
The canteen
20 likes and I'll drop the bench press video
If you look closely you can see the jellyfish
The Drill.
As the explore was coming to an end and Alex and Alistair headed back to shore, Theo and I shared a moment which can only be described as romantic as we lay down on the base of the rig; our eyes met only with the picturesque sunset of the Highlands and the base of the mammoth rig which sat above us. This place is definitely up there as one of my all-time favourite explores – an absolute mission to get aboard, a stunning interior and memories I’m sure none of us will ever forget.
Thanks for reading!
THE HISTORY:
While Transocean may be a less of a household name than the likes of Shell and BP, they are certainly not to be sneezed at in the oil field. The biggest offshore drilling company in the world may not sell to you at the pump, but they are the workhorse behind the scenes, relentlessly dredging up black sticky stuff from under the sea just so that you can get from one place to another a little more quickly.
As part of their vast fleet, the Transocean Leader was built in South Korea in 1987 primarily for use on the North Sea Continental Shelf – a hotspot for many drilling companies. Designed for water depths of up to 5,500ft (roughly a mile!), this rig could drill for oil 25,000ft (7.6km) below sea level. In order to cater for such deep levels of drilling, Leader had the capacity for over 15,000 barrels of oil, which is 2,400 cubic metres in real money. Getting power hundreds of miles into the North Sea can be a tricky job, so this rig was equipped with four Bergen diesel engines, each about the size of an SUV, along with a further backup engine for if times got tough.
Despite highly lucrative North Sea oil contracts with values in excess of $500,000/day, this rig, like many others, was to be retired and was cold stacked in 2020. Since being stationed in Cromarty Firth, this rig has sat vacant and gathering rust before it can be recycled for steel and the process can repeat itself like flora and fauna.
THE EXPLORE:
Deciding to take the plunge with Cromarty Firth in the middle of a week-long Scottish road trip meant the late starts and relaxed explores we had been used to had to be put on the backburner and it was time instead to lock in.
Alas, the benefit of our early start was characteristically eroded when we realised we’d driven to the wrong side of the estuary and were hit with the 40 minute drive round to the other side! Notwithstanding this hiccup, once we got there the sun was shining, the boat was inflating correctly and spirits were higher than Bob Marley on the 20th April, which is how you know something was about to go terribly wrong. As we’d learnt from past experience, the boat is precarious enough with three people in it, so getting @UrbandonedTeam @jtza Alex and me across in one go was never going to happen, so I waited patiently at the shore and watched the other three jet off into the open sea before Alex would, if all went to plan, return to collect me. All seemed to be going smoothly and I hopped into my returning taxi on the water and we set off towards the rig that Alistair and Theo had, as far as we were aware, began exploring. Looking back, I should have seen the engine’s frequent tendency to cut out as a form of divine intervention, but after a few bursts of rowing (and realising we’d accidentally closed the engine air intake) we refused to let anything get in our way of getting on board the rig that lay before us, and we were soon docked at the bottom of the legs and beginning our journey up the stairs.
The Stena Spey rig was not what it seemed...
The first thing that struck me as odd about this rig was that it was making a hell of a lot of noise… The constant high pressure jets of water coming out of the side of the legs did little to ease the mind of worry but we continued nevertheless and assumed the rig was indeed abandoned, primarily based on my ill-advised opinion that because there were no boats docked at the base of the rig there couldn’t possibly be anybody on board. How wrong you can be.
Walking along the decks of the rig and peering nosily into all the bedrooms it was clear that this rig was not in use – the bedrooms were stripped, nothing looked in a state to be used and, being just a mile from the shoreline and in a notorious oil rig graveyard, it certainly wasn’t actively drilling. However, as I wandered along the upper deck by myself I was met with a jump scare I certainly wasn’t ready for: a man! Opening a red metal door which couldn’t be more than three metres from where I was standing, a worker walked out right in front of me and threw a rubbish bag into the outside bins before returning back inside the rig. To this day I have no idea how he didn’t see me, we literally locked eyes for fuck’s sake, but he didn’t. I can online imagine that living alone or with a very limited number of skeleton crew staff makes you blind to even the idea that anybody else could be on board. Safe to say we were straight down those steps out and onto the evac boat before the rig police could make an appearance.
Once we were all back at the car and still buzzing for a rig explore – preferably one which is actually abandoned – we decided to return back to our initial starting point on the other side of the estuary and go for one of the rigs closer to that side.
Repeating the same transport process as before, we were soon all aboard the Transocean Leader which definitely was abandoned – confirmed primarily by the death-drop climb we had to undertake in order to get past the railings and onto the deck. Being on board felt like an unbelievable achievement, especially considering the situation we’d been in just hours before, and while memories of Brent Alpha from many years prior kept coming to mind, there is nothing quite like looking down from those dangling lifeboats and actually just seeing the vast ocean before you. I’d heard comments from people who had done off-shore rigs before that the silence out there at sea is very calming, but I was in no way prepared for the sheer tranquillity you feel being out on deck. The sea was as flat and reflective as a decorative mirror and there was not a sound to be heard except my own feet walking along the metal grating. As a result of the serenity on the rig we perhaps stayed longer than we even needed to, just taking in the stunning Scottish Highlands and breathing a sigh of gratified relief that we’d successfully executed the plan which had been in the pipeline for months.
Main control room
A typical cabin
The Boardroom - the hanging bags of silica gel were ubiquitous around this platform to prevent decay
The sick bay
The canteen
20 likes and I'll drop the bench press video
If you look closely you can see the jellyfish
The Drill.
As the explore was coming to an end and Alex and Alistair headed back to shore, Theo and I shared a moment which can only be described as romantic as we lay down on the base of the rig; our eyes met only with the picturesque sunset of the Highlands and the base of the mammoth rig which sat above us. This place is definitely up there as one of my all-time favourite explores – an absolute mission to get aboard, a stunning interior and memories I’m sure none of us will ever forget.
Thanks for reading!
