Letters from the Gulf, Parts 1 And 2: “Four Miles off ‘Ground Zero’”

by Dan Horton

Dan Horton, a friend and former colleague of mine, works on tugboats out of the New York Harbor for a living. Two weeks ago, he flew down to Louisiana to take a job on a barge unloading crude oil from the skimmer boats that clean the surface of the Gulf of Mexico. There’s limited computer access on board; crew are only allowed to send and receive one email a day. Dan has been sending letters home to his girlfriend, Lori, who has been passing them along to friends and family, and now, with their permission, I’ll pass them along to you. -Dave Bry

Subject: Daily Dan: On Boat At Long Last

Date: Friday, June 18th

Lori,


I’m sorry I left off without calling you back last night. I was at 
wit’s end, very tired. I ended up driving back to New Orleans, dropping off my 
relief and the rental car, getting a room and not sleeping and then taking a 
taxi back again for the 6 a.m. boat. I received a call from the airlines that 
I had left a bag at the airport. Totally forgot about that bag I bought 
hoping to get out of being oversized and overweight. (Payed $42 for the 
bag-big pink hearts on it-and it turned out that I still had the 
overweight charge.) Anyway, that’s what made me decide to go back to the 
city. It was the right thing to do, it would have been murder to sleep 
outside in the heat with the horseflies and alligators with no bedding. I 
only sleep with alligators when I have proper bedding.


Venice is about 75 miles out from N.O. It’s at the end. Ate dinner in 
a bar filled with roughnecks (oil platform workers) seemed like they’d been 
away from land, beer and women for way too long. Felt like a fight was 
going to break out any moment but none did.
 I’m on the boat. Writing this from the upper wheelhouse where I have 
a view of “ground zero,” the site of the initial explosion where the rig 
used to be. There are two bright fires burning there. I can see the lights 
from all the skimmer boats and other vessels in the area working the spill. The dispatcher in Venice said that there were 1300 boats out here in various 
locations. He’s in charge of sending out a fleet of crew boats to man and 
supply the vessels. That is one stressed out individual.
 Tomorrow I will get a better idea of what the water out here looks 
like. Today I was sleeping, both on the crew boat and on this boat when I 
arrived. It was the toughest two days of travel I’ve ever had.

Will write again tomorrow and will have a better perspective on what is 
going on here. They tell me we aren’t that busy, that it’s just a boat or 
two a day coming to us and offloading and that we aren’t taking much product 
when they do. Tomorrow I chip and paint and wait for the crude oil to be 
delivered. It is hot as blazes. 


Love,


Dan

Subject: Hello from Dan

Date: Saturday, June 19

Lori,


Today was a hot one. We lightered two skimmer boats (big supply 
boats with outriggers). The work isn’t terribly hard, and no one on this 
crew has had any ill effects from the crude (though it smells BAD, especially 
with that damn dispersant in it) and they’ve been working with it for over 
two weeks. There is plenty of bottled water, Gatorade and soda on board and 
everyone is conscious of the need to keep fluids going though them as well 
as getting out of the heat as often as is possible.
 The crew seems like a really good bunch of guys. Folks are getting 
along, so that’s good. There are a total of nine people onboard.


I haven’t seen any life in the water. We are four miles off of “ground 
zero.” There is a sheen on the water-like a gas sheen in a mud puddle. 
It’s not dramatic, but noticeable. The crude has broken up into particles 
that you can see down through the water column (that’s the work of the 
dispersant.) The second mate tells me that the boat has sailed though miles-wide slicks where the oil was about three feet thick and a foot under the 
surface. It comes up in “blooms,” depending on where the currents take it.
 There were five, huge controlled burns today that I could see.

It’s 
nighttime now, and I’m looking out at the main fire as I type. There are 
four rigs nearby it and a tanker. They are burning off the gasses as they 
come up to the top, with two fireboats continually hosing them down with sea 
water-to keep the heat down, I suppose.
 I am well and as comfortable as can be hoped for. It’s good to be 
working. I miss everyone of course.
 The Crocs that Yvonne bought me are amazingly comfortable. Thanks 
again, Y! I wore them for traveling down here and now they are my leisure 
wear for the boat. The Stieg Larsson book is great (I’m on the first one 
still) and I was happy to be reading about wintertime in Sweeden [sic] this 
afternoon out on the deck… a little blast of imaginary Nordic chill does a 
body good in the summertime Gulf of Mexico. Glad I brought the guitar too, 
thanks to Josh’s advice. Thank you, Lori, for moral support during what I 
hope will be the worst crew-change travel expedition I ever have to endure 
(the drive back to New Orleans instead of sleeping outside in Venice with 
the black flies and alligators.)
 Will write more tomorrow.


Love,


Dan