The Night Launch

 The Thrifty Rocketeer blog continues...

Have I told you the one about the night launch before?

Well, set back as I tell you a memory of about a year ago or so.

An area club decided it was high time that they were going to hold a "night launch" and publicized it well.  This was going to be an afternoon club launch, open to the public, and extend into the evening, after dark.

They did their homework well, and scheduled this to be on the Saturday when a full moon was to rise in the East.  And it did.  Big, bright, clear, spectacular. The skies were blue and clear and a steady breeze was blowing.

In addition, they added a couple of contest categories for the night launch portion.  Every rocket HAD to be illuminated, whether by electric LEDs, or a glow stick, or some form of positive illumination for the eye to track it and to help in the recovery.  That makes sense!

The launch field was very large, and had the stubble of corn harvested earlier in the month.  This was helpful in that the earth was dry and turned up, but most of the corn stubble was gone.  I say most, because we quickly discovered that the sun shining on a bleached white cornstalk looks amazingly like a low power rocket laying in the field.  A needle in a haystack!

Quickly, we developed two techniques to assist in the recovery process.  Two spotters were placed at opposite ends of the flight line, and they were charged with watching the rocket as it came down.  By triangulation, we could get the rocketeer pretty darn close to his rocket.

Second, we found that if you were to walk out across the tilled field, you should keep to the  WEST of where you thought the rocket came down.  As the afternoon wore on, the sun grew lower and it became much harder to look west into the sun, instead of East and catch the reflected light off the rocket and/or chute or streamer.  Most all the rockets were recovered, despite a very stiff breeze blowing across the field.

But I digress.  This was a tale of the night launch.

Virtually all the rocketeers present (and there were easily two dozen) had prepared a rocket with illumination.  Most had kept their rocket under wraps until the big unveiling.  Some were putting the finishing touches on theirs even as the sun started to go down. I was running late.

I had been thoughtful about my selection, looking through my fleet and spotting a clear payload that would be good for a small LED flashlight with a penlight inside it. Or so I thought.  The closer we got to launch time, the less confident I was that the motor would successfully lift it.

Also, I had made a critical error in selecting my rocket.  I had used it before to loft a plastic X-men figure high aloft years before, and safely recovered it intact. I removed a slightly melted parachute too. Then I retired my rocket. It was called the Egg-Scrambler. (The intent was that you would loft an egg if you could.)

What I forgot, was that this was a dual engine rocket, and I needed not one, but TWO matching motors to launch. When I discovered this on site, I scrambled to find two motors and found that I had two A8-3s left.  But I also discovered that I had failed to secure a parachute AND that two engines would require a pigtail network to send the current to BOTH starters at once.

As the sun went down, I was rushing to cut a fresh plastic chute from a vendor and attach both the reinforcement rings, shroud lines and swivel to finish the chute.  I also noted that most rocketeers were reefing in their chutes or cutting holes in them to get them to drop faster. The lesson was not lost on me. 

So in the last of the light, I was busy making my final cut in the spill hole of the chute.  Now, you would think that a clever guy like me would recognize the value in making that cut initially, while the plastic was still folded evenly.  Like cutting out folded snowflakes when we were young, you need only cut one small arc instead of the whole circle.  I didn't remember until I was well into cutting the circle in the growing gloom. Sigh.

Then I had to fashion a network of wires to both rocket starters. I had to select the right color plugs to hold the starter in place on both motors, and run a pair of wires from each to wrap the pigtail into something the alligator clips would bite.  I don't know how many times I did this in the dark before I finally got it to hold together. ( I didn't know that some motors have different tolerances for plugs than others. That was a challenge to get the starters to stay in place as well as the wire harness.  If you've ever done this before, you know what I'm trying to describe. Now imagine doing it by flashlight, being held in your mouth, while your hands are trying desperately to finish up in time not to miss your spot in line.)

I filled out a launch card and waited my turn in line.  All the while, there were other flights being launched to ooohs and ahhhs from the crowd.  I noticed that the launch officer was a thoughtful fellow who had laid in a stock of strings of LEDs with a self-contained battery pack. They were only two bucks a piece, and many of the rocketeers were buying the strands of white, gold,or blue lights to adorn their rockets.  Most used electrical tape to attach them to the outside of the rocket, which I doubted would hold well under acceleration, but I was wrong. All stayed on!

I got cold feet and ditched my flashlight idea for the last strand of gold lights.  I slightly uncoiled the spool of lights and wire and then feed it down INSIDE the clear payload bay. When the switch was thrown, they all glowed, making the entire payload glow in the light of electric sex.  (Er, sorry, that was a different movie from a different season.)

By the time I had made my way back into the launch line up again, two thirds of the rockets had launched, to spectacular results.  The best, largest and most spectacular ones were now coming out to compete for the "best lit" category.  I rushed to get my rocket on the launch pad and ready for the LCO.

Eventually, my turn came up and he pushed the button.  The engine lit and it climbed up off the rod, and almost immediately laid over.  It laid down on the ground as the last of the engine burned off, and the ejection charge blew the top off.   I was crushed.  But not the rocket.

As it turned out, only one of the engines had ignited. The other was just fine, still waiting for ignition. As I had no other motors, I was dead in the water.  Sadly, I gathered up my rocket and returned to the staging area. I turned off my string of lights and packed it away, removing the hastily cut chute and the wire network from the thing.

We watched for the rest of the night, as the moon got higher and higher, and the so-well-illuminated rockets impressed the crowd.  Ultimately, the winner(s) were senior rocketeers who had DRILLED their rocket and mounted strobing LEDs all over the rocket...making your eyes hurt if you looked directly at it.

Personally, I thought the one with the LEDs pointed up and illuminating the underside of the parachute were particularly deserving of an award, but I was not the judge.

All these memories have come flooding back to me as I walked through Hobby Lobby today, and spotted what is currently being marketed as the Olympus... a single motor rocket with a clear payload.  I bought it.

I checked the calendar, and remembered that the club is going to have another "night launch" in about a month.  I have just enough time to build at a steady pace, and move the light string over into the payload.  I just hope the battery is still good!  (PS: The timing of the Full Moon is critical for navigating the plowed cornfield without a flashlight. I've checked the calendar and discovered their launch is about a week late.  They may have a real problem with a moonless sky, but we shall see.)

This has been the Thrifty Rocketeer suggesting that if you've never been to a night launch before, make plans now.  It's worth it, if only for the comradery as well as the great lights!