The Roger Rowe Petroleum Geology Discussion and Inspection Team decants itself into the little airliner for the trip to the Lofoten Peninsula, Norway, March, 2002.

A small town near Svolvaer, Norway, March 2002.
Photograph by Roger Rowe, Perennial Traveler.

Roger's view from the back of the bus. He is hoping that this is the only bus on the line, so that there's nothing to meet them on this narrow lane just outside of Svolvaer, Norway, on a drear day in March, 2002. This is the weather that explains why Northern Norway is not flooded with casual tourists this time of year.

These foreign tenderfeet have been told that if they wear this ridiculous clothing there is actually a chance of survival if they get dunked into the North Sea. Right. Eleven minutes instead of three. Even sharks know better than to go swimming out there. First person to identify the guy front and center gets an autographed print. Hint: it's not Evis.

You can see that all the people in survival suits are male: they are standing no-hands in the Zodiaks in the choppy North Sea. This is why they are wearing the bright red: so the skipper can pluck them out after they fall in. He has eleven minutes (see previous photo). That's a mountain in the background, in case you didn't notice. Norway, March, 2002. The lingering question is,Did these bright men actually *need* to take this trip, or is this just another Grant Rowe-flavored expedition to gather stories of daring and danger? (at company expense).

This is a Norwegian whaling ship. This is the sort of boat that Norwegians use to take themselves into the North Sea. Contrast this with the Zodiaks that the oil impresarios have been provided. Does this help you understand the survival suits better? Does it help you understand the term, "professional" better? I thought so. rotsa ruck, Loger Lowe!

The Survival Suits clustered around their hotel. Are they coming or going? Whether they themselves know, they will not say. Suits are still Suits, whether pinstripe or Gore-Tex. Norway, March, 2002.

In the days before iron ships, the Norwegian men used to fish from these craft. They worked fine until a storm came up. Then men drowned in flocks, schools, and herds. This is why their modern ships are big and sturdy; they have not completely forgotten how their great-grandfathers died. But Oil Men sail Zodiaks and wear survival suits because they grew up in offices.

If you want flies to gather, put out food. The caucasian in the middle is Roger, of course (Elvis being dead). He's propping himself up against the Petroleum Minister of Vietnam. To the right is a guy not used to cold weather, His Honor the Petroleum Minister of Kuwait, indoors in a parka. He is thinking dark thoughts about the stupidity,venality, and arrogance of George Bush and the Israelis, may they all rest in peace (as soon as possible). I suppose this is a fancy restaurant even though it looks like the innards of a stall. March, 2002

Survival suits cast aside, the Petroleum Ministers stand aside in the local pub while the Norwegians demonstrate the art of beer-quaffing. March, 2002

The Survival Suit Club heads out to sea, this time in something a little bigger than a Zodiak. Exactly why the man on the port rail is wearing a top hat is unknown. The man in the foreground is waving a sensor, not a fish. March, 2002.

This is a building in Oslo, Norway. Don't let the Mansard roof fool you into thinking this is France. The signs are all in Norwegian, and the churches are Lutheran. March, 2002.

A dark day on the Oslo quay. March, 2002. No survival suits in view.

Oslo, March, 2002. Everyone has gone home.