A Tale of Three Cities

I consider myself very fortunate to have experienced many things that others only see from film or books. At the end of 1979 I left the Marines and joined Bristow, within a matter of weeks under the tutelage of “Taff” the chain smoking engineering instructor, then weekends learning to fly the beast with Dave Tink I was qualified to fly one of these. This is a Sikorsky S61n, you may see a similarity with the Sea King, a former work horse of the Royal Navy. Basically it’s the same except this is longer and fitted out for transportation of civilians, or, as they are known on the North Sea, “Bears.”

During training or conversion onto any new type of machine I would get permission to plug one into the power supply, turn her battery and ancillaries on then sit quietly with a cup of coffee and learn my way around the cockpit. Two or three hours spent doing this was my way of advancing my skills. My contemporaries thought it strange but when I got to my first base at Sumburgh I was expected to know how to wind one up from memory. The lads I had left behind in Aberdeen were still using checklists six months later when I went back for my instrument training. 

From Sumburgh we serviced the Thistle ‘A’ and the Murchison plus their attendant drilling or hotel platforms and ships. We also had a base at Unst which consisted of three 61s. Most days one of us went and joined them as they looked after the three huge platforms that comprised the Ninian field. The image shows a 61 about to pass the Ninian Central on her huge concrete base. Either side of her were the Northern and Southern, just a few miles apart. When we worked the Ninians we would leave Sumburgh before the first sparrow had tooted, our passengers had arrived by fixed wing aircraft from Aberdeen. On arrival at the Ninians we swapped loads, collected a much needed breakfast and coffee then headed into Unst, where fixed wing aircraft had brought more Bears from Aberdeen. After the third rotation we would return to Sumburgh; a long hard 12 hour day.

Most of our life was spent in the dark, snow and cloud but there were days when nobody could buy my job from me. It was a steep learning curve but strangely satisfying, if you could work there you could work anywhere. Most of us were a tad Nomadic by nature. A sense of humour was expected and enjoyed. At weekends we would usually rattle the slates on our rooftops on the way home, just to let the Garden Fairy know her chap was safe and homeward bound. 

My 61 had a hissy fit one day as I landed at Unst. I went into the hangar, there was a big lad working on a rotor head. I yelled up that I had broken my 61. At that point the large spanner he had been wielding flew past my head. We became instant friends as I burst out laughing, no Prima Donnas allowed.

This is what the Northern looks like now, she is aground being recycled. It is quite difficult to explain just how gigantic these platforms were, cities in the night out at sea, a spectacular sight.