Alexander L. Kielland - accident

The fateful hydrophone is on display in the Norwegian Petroleum Museum’s permanent exhibition The Legacy of Kielland, alongside a twisted brace from the rig. However, the museum’s collection contains more artifacts from the disaster than those exhibited. The collection includes a model of the supply vessel Nordmand Skipper , one of the first boats to arrive at the accident site. Skipper Didrik Stonghaugen (Dikke) and his crew rescued two men from a raft in the sea and saved an additional twelve people from a lifeboat. No other vessel rescued more survivors that night. Shortly after the accident in 1980, divers recovered objects from the wreck site, while other equipment was salvaged when the rig was anchored in Gandsfjorden. When the rig was declared lost in early 1981, the Norwegian Oil Insurance Pool took ownership – granting the Norwegian Petroleum Museum access to additional items from the wreck. Later, in connection with the sinking and final righting operation in 1983, more objects were retrieved and transferred to the museum. See artifacts from the rig here. The museum has also preserved some objects used during the first attempt  to upright the rig. A sticker in the collection indicates that Stolt Nielsen Seaway Contracting A/S was responsible for the up righting  operation in 1983 . A protective helmet belonging to H.O. Berg from the police force demonstrates how these stickers were used. The investigation commission that examined the accident conducted extensive analyses of the metal used in the rig. Brace components and steel samples were examined at Statoil’s laboratory in Forus as part of the investigation. Some of these samples have been preserved and can be seen here. Survival suits were not officially required until after the Alexander L. Kielland disaster, although they were already in use before then. Following the accident, the rig owner, Stavanger Drilling, ensured that employees received new survival suits, each packed in an individual bag for storage. Some of the suits bear name tags, showing that some individuals who worked on Kielland before the accident returned to work in the North Sea shortly afterward. The museum has also received baggae tags, boarding passes, and  stickers , preserved by a donor who had a summer job on the Kielland platform in 1979. All artifacts from the Kielland disaster that are not part of the exhibition are stored in the Norwegian Petroleum Museum’s storage facility in Dusavika. Visitors can view the items by appointment. Address: Finnestadsvingen 35, 4029 Stavanger. Please contact the museum to schedule an appointment if you wish to visit the storage facility. One of the Twisted Braces from Kielland on Display in the Museum’s Permanent Exhibition: The Legacy of Kielland

February 20, 2025, Minister of Energy Terje Aasland opened the exhibition Pappa at the Norwegian Petroleum Museum. The exhibition will be on display until June before continuing as a traveling exhibition to various locations nationally and internationally. Pappa sheds light on an often-overlooked aspect of the Kielland disaster – the children who were affected. Between 300 and 400 children lost their fathers or had fathers return home who were never the same. Many grew up in an environment marked by grief, silence, and financial uncertainty. Some were shielded from the truth, while others never got to say goodbye. Today, these children are adults, but they still speak about how the disaster continues to shape them. The moment they first heard about the catastrophe. The shame of rejecting their father’s last hug. The whispers at school about how their mother had become rich, while in reality, the family struggled financially. The support provided to survivors and bereaved families was inadequate – a fact confirmed by the Office of the Auditor General of Norway in 2021 and reflected in the stories we present. Pappa encourages reflection on how disasters impact not only the direct victims but also those around them. The Norwegian Petroleum Museum has a responsibility to tell the full story of Norway’s oil history – not just one of prosperity and technological progress, but also of its costs. The stories in Pappa are painful, but they matter. This is not an exhibition you will enjoy, but it is one you need to experience. The exhibition will be on display at the museum until June, after which it will travel to various locations both in Norway and abroad. The steering committee for the documentation project is thanked, and the Minister of Energy receives the final report The main feature of the exhibition is six listening stations where visitors can hear the children share their stories Many had found their way to the exhibition opening. “Pappa” means Dad in English. The energy minister Terje Aasland, listens to the children’s stories Merete Haslund and Hans Inge Fagervik performed the song “Pappa” Else M. Tungland, Head of the Documentation Project at the Norwegian Petroleum Museum The minister learns about the project Acting Museum Director Börn Lindberg “Pappa” is a supplement to the museum’s permanent exhibition on the Alexander L. Kielland disaster: “The Legacy of Kielland.”

My last memories of my uncle PJ, my father’s oldest brother, were of him sprucing himself up in front of the mirror that hung over the faithful Rayburn range in my grandparents’ small two-bedroom semi-detached house at the northern end of O’Molloy Street in Tullamore. I still remember the scent of his aftershave, which he splashed on liberally, and how he took great care in combing his hair to get it just right for his visit to the local pubs to chat and laugh with the friends he had grown up and worked with. He was back for a weekend visit from his home in Breaston, Derby, where he lived with his wife Zoe and his daughter Tara. He had a great job working as a foreman fitter on an oil rig in the North Sea. Its name was the Alexander L. Kielland, a Norwegian semi-submersible drilling rig operated by the Stavanger Drilling II Company, situated in the Ekofisk oil field. PJ was a very bubbly, outgoing character. He was quick-witted and enjoyed a pint and a laugh in good company. His job paid very well, and with a rota of two weeks on and two weeks off, he was a regular visitor to Ireland, sometimes with his family and sometimes on his own during his time off. As it happened, I was the last member of my family to see PJ alive. Shortly after that visit, a terrible tragedy unfolded—one that would change our lives forever. Early in the evening of 27 March 1980, more than 200 men were off duty in the accommodation on Alexander L. Kielland. The weather was harsh, with rain, dense fog, wind gusting to 40 knots (74 km/h), and waves up to 12 metres (39 ft) high. Kielland had just been winched away from the Edda production platform. Minutes before 18:30, those on board felt a ‘sharp crack’ followed by ‘some kind of trembling.’ Suddenly, Kielland heeled over 30° and then stabilised. Five of the six anchor cables had broken, with the one remaining cable preventing the rig from capsizing. However, the list continued to increase, and at 18:53, the remaining anchor cable snapped, and the rig capsized completely. At the time of the disaster, 130 men were in the mess hall and the cinema. Kielland had seven 50-man lifeboats and twenty 20-man rafts. Four lifeboats were launched, but only one managed to release from the lowering cables due to a safety device that required the strain to be removed before release. A fifth lifeboat came adrift and surfaced upside down; its occupants managed to right it and gathered nineteen men from the water. Two of Kielland’s rafts were detached, and three men were rescued from them. Two 12-man rafts were thrown from Edda, rescuing thirteen survivors. Seven men were taken from the sea by supply boats, and seven swam to Edda. No one was rescued by the standby vessel Silver Pit, which took an hour to reach the scene. Of the 212 people aboard the rig, 123 had been killed, making it the worst disaster in Norwegian offshore history since the Second World War and the deadliest offshore rig disaster of all time up to that point. The first news we received of the disaster came through mainstream media, followed by more details from PJ’s wife. We were left in shock and disbelief, anxiously waiting to learn if PJ was one of the few survivors. Days passed, and it soon became clear that PJ was one of the missing men. I will always remember the blank stare of my poor grandmother as she looked out the kitchen window, seemingly peering into the heavens as we waited for any news. Rumors circulated that men could be trapped in air pockets in the submerged platform, but as hours turned to days and days to weeks, our hope faded—and so did my grandmother. Clinton Pender After six long weeks, the rig was towed back to port, and my uncle’s remains were located in the wreck. His remains were flown back to Ireland. I vividly remember accompanying my father to the morgue at Dublin Airport. The coffin was white, but as only children were interred in white coffins in Ireland, it was transferred to a traditional Irish oak coffin. PJ was buried in our ancestral burial ground in Durrow, just a few miles from Tullamore. He was the only Irishman who perished in the disaster. I often think of PJ and the last time I saw him. He had such a zest for life and a deep love for his family and heritage. Following his footsteps, I joined the pipe band in Tullamore, where PJ learned his drumming skills. He eventually went on to drum with the Ballinamere Ceili Band, which was very popular in the late 1950s Ceili scene. I will never forget the emotions we all felt during those terrible six weeks in April and May 1980: shock, hope, despair, and resignation. All that’s left for us to do is pray for the 123 souls lost that night and hope they are at peace.   Uncle PJ to the left in the “Ballinamere Ceili Band”. Read more stories here: Alexander L. Kielland: Minnebank