Even today, this still remains one of the most unique and adventurous locations Ive ever had the privilege of accessing, the result of a stupid gamble that could have left us adrift in the north sea. Everyone knows what an oil-rig looks like, those ominous floating hulks of metal, towed out to sea to drill the black gold which powers our everyday lives. Catching the occasional television show on discovery i had always wanted to visit one myself, a dream i feared unattainable, especially in the current climate of duct-tape your baby to the floor to be sure, health and safety.

Ever since my grandparents returned to Scotland, to the humble town of Nairn, i would often visited during the holidays. Nairn if you don’t know, and why would you, sits opposite Invergordon, the Moray and Cromarty Firth in between. Little happens in Invergordon, its a dull, drab, place to be, known only for its shipyards repairing the oil-rigs which once littered the Cromarty Firth.

In 2006, while exploring the Highland Park Abbey, myself and fellow explorer Lost happened upon a four man inflatable boat, at the time thinking nothing of it. It wasnt until the third day of my trip, when all other avenues of adventure exhausted that we joked about the possibility of accessing one of the oil-rigs.

Our plans were ill contrived, one involved bribing a local fisherman, another required stealing said fisherman’s boat, returning it with an apologetic note and money for the fuel expended. Unsurprisingly, the first idea was met with a unanimous no, the local skally’s uncooperative and with good reason. As a result of attempts to steal scrap metal from the rigs, the local coast guard placed a ban to non authorised personnel to travel within a 200 meters of each rig, a breach of which resulting in the suspension of their licence, with it their livelihood. So really, it came as no surprise they didn’t fancy risking all for a petty £100. The second option, well we just didn’t have the balls to steal someones boat, excluding the fact none of us knew how to drive it anyway.

All seemed to be lost, i was to return to England the following day, but we wanted it, we wanted it badly! Remembering the dingy at the highland club we pondered the possibilities. It might work, but the boat was parked almost 60 miles in the wrong direction. We threw caution to the wind, driving to Loch Ness in the dead of night, crudely affixing it to the roof and returning. We had been extremely lucky by this point, the boat covered all the roof and a large percentage of the windscreen. Should the police see us at this point, we were done for, how else do you explain what your doing in the middle of nowhere, 2am, climbing gear and a stolen boat stuck on your roof?

We reaching Davidson by 3am. The night still in full effect, we headed to the shoreline, our equipment in waterproof food containers. Our vessel wasn’t exactly sea worthy, it had a few patched holes and one of the ores had holes in it, either way we had come too far to back out now. Muttering a hushed prayer we pushed off.

Rowing towards the rig wasn’t difficult, the tides were calm with the current doing most of the work, curious seals or otters, cant remember which, periodically popping out of the water to assess the situation. The rig sat bathed in the golden light of the sunrise, growing larger and dominating the skyline with every stoke.

As the rubber pushed against the side of the rig we threw the rope aboard, affixing it to a nearby sign reading ”No Tresspassing”. Needless to say we triple knotted the rope, adding a backup just to be safe for we knew, should the boat become loose and float away, we would be screwed.

Life at sea had not done the rig any good, everything was rusty, the floor, the stairs, even the ballast tank itself, should a hole appear in that it wouldn’t be long before the entire structure sank to the seabed. As much as i was fascinated by the platform and the features it offered, i didn’t envy those who had to stay on one, at sea, for three months at a time. The accommodation was cramped and doubled up, the living quarters equally so. I cant imagine life on board would have been too enjoyable, yet for us, the rig served as our own personal playground, something to climb, crawl and explore.

The possibilities with the rig were endless, we saw less then 40% in the time we had, but, with my flight home now less then six hours away, it was time leave, setting sail back to shore.