`No Acreage'
``That's a record for Montana and North Dakota,'' BLM spokesman Greg Albright says.
Among the biggest companies punching holes in the North Dakota Bakken are Houston-based Marathon Oil Corp., the fourth- largest U.S. oil company, and Hess Corp. of New York, which is No. 5. No. 1 Exxon Mobil Corp. isn't active in the Bakken. John Freeman, an analyst at investment bank Raymond James & Associates Inc. in Houston, says Exxon is looking for bigger deposits overseas.
``Now, there's no acreage left,'' he says.
The truest believer in the Bakken might be Reger, the CEO of Northern Oil. He's certainly the loudest promoter.
Reger is a fourth-generation oilman. His great-grandfather managed operations for Mobil Oil, now part of Exxon Mobil, in the Williston Basin, the 110,000-square-mile (285,000-square- kilometer) geological formation in the northern plains that holds the Bakken and other deposits. Reger's grandfather leased land atop all of them. His father, uncle and brother are in the business, too.
``It's our basin,'' Reger says.
Bakken Hunters
If it works out the way Reger says, he and his partner, a former derivatives trader named Ryan Gilbertson, will be the Sergey Brin and Larry Page of the Bakken. Like the Google Inc. founders, Reger and Gilbertson are young -- Gilbertson is also 32 -- and they aren't afraid to roll the dice.
The lanky, blue-eyed Reger wears cowboy boots and a saucer-sized belt buckle emblazoned with an ``R.'' He vacationed this year in the Maldives in the Indian Ocean and insisted on a stopover to see Dubai's building boom. Gilbertson, meantime, shot a 10-foot-tall brown bear at eight paces in Alaska in 2007. He has a picture of him and the dead bear on the wall in his office.
`Son o' *****es'
The future partners met while boating on Lake Minnetonka, outside Minneapolis. Gilbertson is from the area and traded derivatives for Piper Jaffray Cos. and a hedge fund firm named Telluride Asset Management LLC in nearby Wayzata, where Northern is based. Reger moved from Montana to St. Paul to attend the University of St. Thomas.
``We're both cowboy-boot-wearing, country-music-listening, gun-toting sons o' *****es,'' Gilbertson says. These days, they both drive black Cadillac Escalade SUVs and wear designer jeans.
Gilbertson says he knows more about interest-only mortgage bonds than he does about oil. But he says Northern will succeed because he and Reger weren't in business during the busts of earlier decades, so they aren't gun-shy today.
When EOG hit oil, they leased as many mineral rights in Mountrail County as they could, even as prices rose.
``The fear of these busts has clouded the judgment of so many players,'' Gilbertson says. ``We just grabbed everything with both hands.''
Turning Over Leases
Northern makes money without actually drilling or operating wells. Its strategy is like the game of Monopoly: lease in promising areas and get paid when someone else uses the land to drill.
The strategy is possible because of the way land is assembled for drilling. Reger's grandfather, uncle and father had made their money as lease brokers: They'd lease the land themselves or buy leases already granted and then sell them at higher prices to exploration companies.
Reger and Gilbertson intend to keep their leases, pay a share of the drilling costs and keep a portion of the oil revenue. Gilbertson says it was his idea. ``I saw the family's model as flawed,'' he says.
Leasing mineral rights means finding mineral owners. That's not always easy, because the farmer who owns the surface may not own the ``minerals,'' as they're known. Farmers can sell land and retain the minerals. When a mineral owner dies, the rights are often passed in equal portions to his or her children, Reger says, making them hard to track down.
Hauling County Records
To find mineral owners in Mountrail County, land men spend months in the courthouse, poring over photo-album-sized books that show who owns mineral rights and whether they've been leased.
One day in April, there were 50 people lugging books around. They line up well before the courthouse opens to get a spot on the first floor so they don't have to haul volumes up the stairs to an old law library that's been filled with folding tables to accommodate the horde.
Reger started leasing land for oil and gas exploration in Montana at age 15. He carried a portable typewriter to bang out contracts on landowners' kitchen tables.
It takes more than mineral rights to drill. Most western states are divided into neat little squares called sections. Each is one square mile, or 640 acres. If you want to drill an oil well in a section, you lease the mineral rights inside it. You don't need all of them, but you have to find all of the rights owners in that section and offer to let them participate.
This is where Northern makes its money.
Watching Permits
Reger's favorite time of day is 4 p.m., when the North Dakota Industrial Commission posts the names of companies that have gotten permits to drill. Very often, a rig is heading to a section in which Northern has mineral rights. He knows then that it will be a matter of time before he gets a letter from the company asking if he wants to share the cost -- and the revenue -- based on the percentage of mineral rights Northern controls in that section. He almost always says yes.
Reger makes it look easy because the Bakken is hot, says Summerfield ``Sam'' Baldridge, a partner at Montana Oil & Gas Properties Inc., founded by Reger's uncle, Steve, in Billings, Montana. Bigger companies are eager to drill, their wells are producing and oil prices are high.
``If it goes bad, you can go broke really quick,'' Baldridge says. ``You have to have guts and capital.''
Booms and Busts
Baldridge, 51, knows from experience. He was leasing mineral rights for Mobil in Montana in February 1986 when he heard on the radio that oil prices had plunged. In two days, a barrel of West Texas Intermediate crude fell to $15 from $20.
``We knew it was history,'' Baldridge says. ``From Calgary to Houston, everything went south.''
North Dakota has seen booms and busts from an array of oil deposits. The Bakken began forming 360 million years ago from dead algae that sank to the bottom of an ancient sea, where they were buried by successive layers of rock. Heat and pressure turned the algae into oil-saturated shale. Now it lies like a buried blanket under much of the Williston Basin.
Amerada Petroleum Corp. roughnecks started drilling what would become the first well in North Dakota on Sept. 3, 1950. They went through the Bakken before producing oil from deeper Silurian dolomite on April 4, 1951. A year later, Amerada (now Hess) finished the Henry O. Bakken well. Cuttings from the hole showed the shale layers that are now known by the same name.
Finding Porosity
Exploration in the Williston Basin grew for a few decades after that, ebbing and flowing with the price of oil. Mostly, drillers pursued deposits deeper than the Bakken. Those who tried to exploit it usually failed. The oil wouldn't keep flowing. ``Bakken was a four-letter word,'' says Dick Findley, a geologist in Billings.
In 1996, Findley, now 56, had a revelation. The consultant-turned-oilman went out to his rig in eastern Montana one night to check on things. At 2 a.m., it hit the Bakken dolomite and produced an unexpected rush of oil. Oil expands as it forms, and the pressure drives it into rock fractures. In the past, the dolomite hadn't seemed porous enough or fractured enough to release it.
``We got porosity that I didn't know existed,'' Findley says.
Findley and his partner, a land man named Bob Robinson, thought they could re-enter old wells and blast the middle dolomite layer with pressurized water to make cracks for crude to flow. They produced oil but not enough. So they turned to horizontal drilling. The technique had been around for decades.
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