Most nights, Buck and Lem showered with each other. This was the winter contract, which was understaffed — more than half of the roughnecks here a couple days ago had left during their leave. Buck didn’t realize how many fewer workers there would be. That was because, Lem explained, the rig was less efficient in the winter, and Mr. Chow actually lost money pumping oil until it warmed up. He kept it going regardless because otherwise the rig would fall apart and be inoperable in the spring, but it continued with a skeleton crew mainly tasked with maintenance. The drill did run, and oil was pumped, but only the minimum needed every day to ensure smooth operation.
Otherwise it was a lot of cleaning, inventory, weatherproofing, organizing, etc. It was intensely boring and not much work. The chill was intense in the unheated corridors now that it was winter. Buck got a thrill out of walking to the shower every night, which he still did in his briefs and sandals (though he now wore his sandals with two pairs of socks). He thought it was hilarious how steamy his chest was, and it set his heart racing. Most night it was literally cold enough to take his breath away, and he could barely breathe the whole way to and from the shower.
Lem did not do that. He was leaner and lankier than Buck, and like the other roughnecks, Lem wore several layers of clothes in the corridors. So Buck got naked in the showers in seconds, while Lem lazily undressed and smoked a cigarette (which he did only to annoy Buck, because Buck kept hassling him about hurrying up).From Buck the Roughneck
Tag: winter
Beach sauna
Dale and Poahi wore their togs under trousers, and Poahi wore leggings below that. They came to the beach in big puffy coats. It was, of course, deserted. Wind-swept waves battered the beach, and the sun beat down on the sand, adding bright light but not a mote of heat.
They brought tarps too. So did Keith and the other dudes in the 504 Crew. They arranged the tarps over the top and openings of the showerhouse on the beach, then they put lawnchairs in, turned on the hot water and rolled some joints. Heat from the hot water was trapped in the showers by the tarps. The heat reacted with the cold to create a billowing cloud of steam that stayed beneath the tarps.
So that was the annual beach sauna tradition. They sat in the heat, drank beer from an ice-filled cooler and smoked joints, had a real-man korero and, eventually, if they got drunk enough, they’d go for a brief swim before scurrying back into the warm sauna.
That was a tradition Poahi loved. He wished the others would quiet — it seemed meditative, Poahi thought. It should be meditative. The steam was relaxing. If this were a Maori tradition, it would have a spiritual side. People would be silent mostly, interrupting it with an occasional waiata. But Americans do not have a spiritual side, and they simply chatted and drank beer and dared each other to enter the freezing cold ocean.From Poahi the Lackey