I spent my last day in the Gulf of Mexico with a northern front bearing down on C Port II, in what's known around Port Fourchon as "Halliburton Slip". It was probably the busiest slip in the busiest port in the world, at least in terms of number of boats and not tonnage, although you wouldn't have guessed it at the time. Traffic had dried up incrementally since the end of the BP clean-up efforts, the recession finally asserting itself upon the oil and gas industry. Locals blamed the government and new regulations in place since the failure of the Macondo well, and they still do; but it was also the tightening of money in a sluggish economy, companies with less to borrow, less capable of expanding operations. Instead, many fled the Gulf for international markets, South America and west Africa, southeast Asia. Much of it went to Brazil, and so did I.
Awake from the nightshift, sunrise brings a substantial still, a false calm as winds subside and white-caps dissolve. It's a delusion of peace, however, an ephemeral guise of serenity, a momentary lapse of elemental force, and soon the maelstrom returns. My bags packed, the radio remained silent until noon, and I dodged another trip offshore, one final winter-pounding in the churning Gulf. I would get my share in Brazil although I didn't know it at the time, in the South Atlantic, the high seas, in one of the roughest places in the world--along with the North Sea--for offshore supply vessels. I learned that after I took the job.
I'll try to post a few things for anyone interested... guanabaraswell.blogspot.com
