Scrubbed!…Until It’s Right

Photo courtesy of Tim Robertson

I’ve contributed to this blog space from a number of perspectives – walking/hiking on Maui and in Ireland, driving trips in my SSC (Silver Sardine Can), about kayaks and rafts and Air Craft Carriers, being transported by song, and in a $500 VW (Lemons Racer), but never about a rocket. Until now.

This week the JPSS-1 satellite was to be launched into orbit via a Delta 2 rocket. I have been in an approved viewing area two nights this week (week of 11/12/2017) as a guest of Tim Robertson who works for NASA and on the payload of the satellite. Both nights it was scrubbed – first due to a red alarm condition that turned out to be a telemetry issue not directly associated with the rocket or its payload and then due to high winds in the upper stratosphere.

We were bummed, to be sure. But, even knowing it would be scrubbed, I’d do it again on the chance it could have been green-lighted. It was about more than liftoff. It was about friends gathering for another’s big event, hanging out around fire pits, eating pizza with new friends, and seeing the hope written on hundreds of faces including kids in unicorn sleepers, old guys in jackets with launch patches reaching back decades, and a host of human configurations in between. Oh, and a fifty-foot configuration of tables loaded with desserts that made my pancreas itch.

The first day I rode my Victory XC up to Buellton after attending a knee joint class. I ride or drive this route frequently to visit my daughter’s family in Santa Barbara and on this Monday in the early afternoon it was as smooth as you could want with only one traffic hitch that a quick U-turn helped me avoid. I found myself heading up the 101 at the ideal time of day and I watched the sunset into the Pacific with a cloud cover made to reflect all the colors you could wish for. By three a.m. Jed and I were asleep in his trailer after the scrubbing of the launch.

The second day was manic. I started home at 10 a.m. after quick goodbyes so that I could prepare for a committee meeting I chair. I had time for one all-too-quick nap. As soon as the closing prayer was given at 8 p.m. I was back on the road to meet up with Tim and friends at the Marriott in Buellton for the bus ride over to the viewing site on a Vandenberg AFB base golf course. My plan was to drive home immediately after the launch for an early morning men’s meeting at 6 a.m. There was no endless table of sweets, fewer people though the unicorn made her appearance, and the mood was muted.

We listened to the launch check at the four-minute mark of the countdown and heard some discussion on high winds in the upper stratospheres but the reports moved on and most of us neophytes were unconcerned. Tim was first to announce the scrubbing having seen a report come out on his phone. Once the announcers came back and made it official the muted moods were sadly dampened and everyone loaded up the buses. I made my way home without knowing when the next attempt would be made and got to the parking lot in time for the meeting but had to rush home due to an unforeseen personal issue. Otherwise the plan worked as intended. If you don’t count the scrubbing of the launch.

Now, we’ve all made plans for weddings, dates, trips, and a hundred other lesser things and at some point in time made the go/no go call. When do we do it for our rides? There’s so much to consider before we put up our kickstands and push off; our health, the weather, our finances, our family’s condition, the bike’s condition, and dozens of other items. We scrub them and go back to the drawing board or shove off and hope for the best, especially if we’ve compromised on any of our no-go items. You can’t do that with a rocket.

When I started this writing (Thursday morning) I wasn’t planning to go up for the rescheduled launch Saturday morning at 1:47 a.m. But writing this and texting with Tim inspired me and I’ve rearranged my schedules to go on up after getting my grandkids out of school. So I’ll pause now and finish off with a victorious paragraph on my experience watching, feeling, and smelling a Delta II launch. Hopefully.

The countdown is gradually picked up by everyone nearby…5…4…3…2…1 Ignition! A cheer erupts from the crowd in the field just before the white light fills your field of vision. Our eyes adjust and the light is hanging there surrounded by billows of steam for what seems like an eternity, sitting on the pad. The Delta II doesn’t move and you don’t breath. This is especially true for the folks who have a vested interest in the baby that’s to be put into orbit – like Tim Robertson.

This eruption of light hits you first because it travels at the speed of light. The rumble comes next as the sound waves travel through the air then you feel the earth tremble under your feet. The last sense impacted is the sense of smell as the odor of spent kerosene reaches your nose. The last sense, that is, other than the sense of relief and fulfillment when you hear that your dear JPSS-1 has reached orbit. Or maybe a month or so from now when they fire up your payload contribution and weather information pours down from its polar orbit.

As the thrust overcomes the rocket’s inertia and liftoff is accomplished you breathe again and your exhilaration overcomes your reticence for cheering in the cold of the early morning. The light coalesces as the rocket separates itself from the smoke and steam and assumes a graceful arc that belies the massive instrument being forced to leave the planet and its atmosphere.

Or so I’ve been told. You see, I didn’t make it to the viewing site this night and had to watch a yellow dot arc out into space, plainly seen, from the top of my garage. I’m content in saying it was poor planning on my part and leaving it at that.

Don’t mourn the scrub – with each one an opportunity for a happier outcome is born.

Keep the iron side up friends,

jerry

1 Minute Exposure photo courtesy of Tim Robertson