Tragedy was huge blow to tight-knit offshore community
ST. JOHN’S, N.L. — For almost nine years, every three-week work rotation, Jill Hawkins slipped into her safety flight suit to take the 90-minute helicopter ride to work, 350 kilometres off the coast of Newfoundland. Every time, she dreaded it. “I hated that chopper flight,” said Hawkins, who worked offshore from 2006 to 2014 aboard the Terra Nova — a floating production, storage and offloading vessel — with the accommodations staff.
“Some people didn’t mind it. They’d get on and fall asleep. But I absolutely hated it. I just couldn’t relax.”
Things got especially tough on March 12, 2009, after 17 colleagues were killed and one injured when Cougar Helicopters Flight 491 crashed into the Atlantic Ocean.
“I can’t believe it’ll be 10 years,” Hawkins said. “It feels like yesterday.”
The Sikorsky S-92 helicopter was shuttling workers from St. John's to two offshore oil platforms around 9 a.m. that day when it reported mechanical trouble and turned back. It went down less than 10 minutes later, about 65 kilometres southeast of St. John’s.
Hawkins was offshore the day it happened and returned home early on a supply vessel.
“I just needed to be home,” she said.
In the days following the crash, Hawkins, like many, stayed glued to the news, watching the recovery efforts and reaction in the aftermath.
“It was horrific,” said Hawkins, who was acquainted with crash victims Allison Maher from Aquaforte and Wade Duggan of Brigus. “It could have been any of us, any flight, any time. It really affected me.”
After the crash, Hawkins experienced severe anxiety and couldn’t sleep. When she did manage to sleep, she’d wake with visions of the victims.
“I had nightmares about how their last moments might have played out. I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” said Hawkins, 39.
“I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to get back on a helicopter and go back to work. … It was one of the reasons I left the offshore.”
She said it was a difficult time for everyone connected to the offshore oil industry.
“Even though there are several different offshore rigs and vessels on the Grand Banks, it was very much, in my experience, a tightknit community when I worked offshore,” she said.
“You spend a lot of time together working away in threeweek hitches, you hang out at the heliport when your flight is on weather delay, you pass the time playing cards after your shift.
“So, when the crash happened, it was very hard and I think we all grieved collectively for those that didn’t come home.”
Hawkins, who lives on the Southern Shore, is glad to work on dry land these days. She works for Workplace NL, where she keeps a memento in her cubicle by her desk, and one at home, to remember the offshore workers who lost their lives in the crash.
“It’s really hard to put into words just what kind of impact it’s had. It really is,” she said.
“It never leaves you.”