“Whatever you do, make sure you always have plenty of water.” I remember the guy who sold me the anti-freeze additive had told me. It was supposed to keep the truck from overheating in the unmerciless heat that was commonplace in the area we would be working around Death Valley.
I had spent the last couple of weeks preparing myself mentally and physically for the grueling climate which would be my workplace for a minimum of 12 hrs. a day, 7 days a week, for the next few weeks. During the daylight hours temperatures of 125 were not uncommon this time of year, and even at night the temps stayed in excess of 100 for over a hundred consecutive days every year.
The project was a 14” line to connect various geo-thermal energy plants which lay scattered throughout the area southwest of Palm Springs, California. The welding test was rumored to be tougher than most and more than once I had overheard men at the union hall refer to the inspector as anything but a pushover. It was going to be a challenge and a long day, I thought to myself as I pulled up to the fabrication yard. I glanced at my trucks ambient temp. Gauge in the dash. 101 and its 7 am . . . .
“Park your rig over there by the fence. Here’s a card with my cell number. Call me when your rolled out, set up and ready to test!!” A short, stocky man barked at me before I could close my door. “Yes sir.” I replied, not knowing how else to address him. “Are you some kind of a smartass kid?” He asked, now obviously aggravated. Flustered I said quickly “No Sir.” Before I could even stop myself and gulped while waiting for more verbal abuse. But thankfully he was already gone, off to intimidate the next welder pulling up.
I discovered while setting up that one of my grinders was broken which was an annoyance but luckily I had a spare. Years of working on remote sites in Alaska and the Boy Scouts had taught me to follow the motto “Be Prepared.” Old Murphy’s Law will beat you down if you let it, and nowhere are that truer than on a construction site. Once I had double checked everything I called the inspector and told him I was ready to begin.
Two hours into the test, which is a large diameter 24” weld joint, I have come to know the true meaning of the seventh circle of hell. The temperature is 123 and still climbing. The joint that I am welding on is somewhere between fourteen and sixteen hundred degrees, and I am about a foot away from it. I am soaked with sweat and I have enough in my boots that it actually squishes when I walk. I’ve several times heard voices while I am under my welding hood talking and laughing at me from a few feet away. “Did you see his license plate?? Alaska, maybe the kids lost!!” “ There was a guy from Phoenix who quit last week cuz he couldn’t take the heat. . .” and my least favorite which was always someone loudly exclaiming how little time was left on the test.
I finish in time and quickly call the inspector who comes over and notes the time before he pulls out his light and inspection mirror. Not a word is spoken as he slowly examines the bottom and then the sides, and finally the top of the weld. Still not speaking he repeats the entire process with the inner portion of the pipe joint. After what seems like an eternity he straightens up and asks “How long have you been welding son??” “Five years.” I lie, effectively doubling my experience at the same time. “Hmmm. . . . you ever work a geo-thermal project??” he asks, looking me straight in the eye. Not knowing what the next question might be I opt for the truth this time “No Sir, but I am a quick learner and I take pride in my work.” “I can see that by your weld, kid. You passed the visual and the X-ray shot should be back in an hour or two. Come on in the trailer and cool off.” He says without smiling or even bothering to ask my name.
And as I put my hat back on and set the welding hood in the truck I am relieved to have the worst behind me. I put my sunglasses on after dunking my head under the cold water from the cooler on the back of my rig truck, and look down at the stainless bracelet and remember the man who first taught me to weld. Then I head towards the trailer, ready to once again experience the thing that those of us who are lucky enough to be a part of it simply call “pipelining.”