An Oil Boom in North Dakota

"These waves are a bit disorganized," Greg commented. To which I replied, "Yeah, they really ought to get their shit together."  We were in the middle of an open water crossing on Lake Sakakawea when the winds increased in strength followed by the waves. We were trying to get around a rocky point beyond which the lake turned from the north back to the east and we would have the wind at our backs. Presently, however, we were at the mercy of an ever increasing side wind kicking up 4 foot high choppy waves that were hitting us broadside and the Betty B tossed about dangerously. Taking a wave over the side would most likely drown the canoe.

Greg shouted that if we took a wave over the side he'd turn us directly to shore. It would then be an expect the worst but paddle like hell to attain the best situation. Fortunately we rounded the point without incident and continued eastward towards the Garrison Dam. By the end of the day we had put 36 miles behind us, paddling for 9.5 hours.

We were restless and determined to cover ground after having spent 44 hours pinned down, hunkered against a high mud bank as the wind howled from the east at 20 MPH. Our rhythm had been interrupted and we were desperate to get it back. The rhythm of life on the water dominated by 7-10 hours of paddling every day had been brought to a halt and for 44 hours we sat, we paced, we stared out at the water as if willing the wind to die.

In the distance on the far shore, a constant reminder of our maddening lack of motion burning with a taunting arrogance was the off gassing flame of an oil derrick. The countryside around the lake has been experiencing an oil boom the last 3-5 years and for days now we have constantly been in sight of at least a few oil derricks. The day before the wind hit I counted 13 in view while paddling and then camped on shore as evening darkened I could see 13 flames on just the opposite shore and behind us within a quarter mile were four more.

Just inside North Dakota we caught a ride 22 miles into town with a local who took us shopping and then drove us 22 miles back to the river. On the drive our gracious host told us about the boom. When I asked how it affected the locals, if it was seen as good or bad he replied, "Oh, little of both, But more and more we're seeing more of the bad."

The oil boom has driven up the price of real estate and there's an oil company trying to force him to sell out at less than market value. Crime has skyrocketed and there isn't the housing to room the workers. Then there's the oil companies tendency to to do their best to take all the money and leave as little as possible to the locals.

Most often the landowner is not the owner of the mineral rights in North Dakota. These were often separated generations back. So the owner of the mineral rights can lease the rights to minerals underneath another person's property. Once the oil company has the lease to the minerals they are not bound by law to notify the landowner. So, a property owner may very well just look out their window one morning to find fence being ripped out and heavy equipment dozing a pad for the upcoming derrick.

For those that own the mineral rights it is required by law for a broker to be involved as a middle man. The law also requires the oil companies to pay out 20% of the rig to the leaseholder and the broker. For years no one told the leaseholders this so the brokers were signing them to 5% and keeping 15% of each rig for themselves. Recently the locals have wizened to this, and the brokers are having to settle for 5% on new leases.

If fought on an individual basis the oil companies will be required to pay damages to the landowner and perhaps even lease the land they're using but it seems they do their damnedest to not let that happen. The situation reminds me of a line from the Tom Russell song called "Who's Gonna Build Your Wall" that goes something like "As I travel around this land of ours the man that I most fear is the man in a golf shirt with a cell phone in his ear."

The dams and the derricks, the flames on the horizon and the sprawling unnatural lakes are enough to get a man low but my faith in humanity is strengthened by the everday folks we meet on the river with an immediate, unasked for willingness to do what they can to help us on our way, a selfless desire to help another human. Whether they be shopowners in Oregon, bus drivers in North Dakota, or villagers in Alaska I feel better about this world because they are in it.