Where never lark nor even eagle flew*

Following our first rocket launch road trip, Thaddeus and I planned to return to see the larger Antares rocket launch in December.  Unfortunately, a problem with the cooling system** on the International Space Station led to NASA scheduling space walks to perform repairs rather than dealing with the resupply mission.  This delayed the launch from December to January and a change in launch window from the fan-favored night time to a midday time slot.
Such is the nature of rocket launches and real fans are not to be deterred.  We stood by and kept track of updates by NASA and Orbital Sciences.  Sleeping in an hour late on the morning of the launch, I did not get word of another delay due to solar radiation levels until I was getting dressed and ended up switching gears and being late for work (word of advice: follow both @NASA_Wallops and @OrbitalSciences , along with a number of social media reporters, on Twitter and keep check on the Wallops website; sometimes the latest news takes time to make the rounds).
Finally the day came and we were rolling on to WFF for another field trip (the term Thaddeus used to use for all vacations and road trips).  The three hour ride to Wallops was rather uneventful, except for the fact that we got hungry as we approached the Visitor Center (there is nothing beyond a vending machine there) and the unwelcome surprise that the return trip discount on the CBBT now only applies to EZ PASS (note to self - get one).

They say that the Visitor Center may not allow entry beyond T minus 1 hour, and though that did not turn out to be the case this time (as it was for the night launch), it was still nice to get there early and explore the exhibits and grounds.

We found exhibits of scientific and historical nature inside, from the balloon missions *** shown here, to sounding rockets...

...from models of the ISS, Shuttle and Navy ships...

...to a glass globe ("Magic Planet") that switches from the moon...

...to the Earth...

...to Mars...

...to Saturn...

...and "Science on a Sphere" movies projected onto a six foot globe in a darkened room...

... as well as a letter from President George H. W. Bush when he was stationed there, satellite imagery and demonstrations and more.

And of course, a gift shop featuring patches, magnets, astronaut ice cream and fashion accessories, like this stylish hat.

We met up with reporters, school groups and other science nerds and after perusing the inside exhibits, made our way to the rooftop observation deck.  Though there are trees between the observation deck and launch pad, keeping this from being a good vantage point for the main attraction, there is still much to see.  Located in a wetlands environment a few miles north (or maybe north-north-west) of the actual launch pad...

...the Visitor Center is directly across from a NOAA facility and the Flight Facilities' runways, where carrier landing practice takes place...

...including the E-2 Hawkeyes that the Navy just announced practice operations at Wallops for.

Once we were done with the main building, we decided to go check out the designated launch  observation area.

Along the way, we discovered several rockets on display, scattered about the grounds, that we could get up close and personal with.  As much as it was a let down that they seemed so ordinary up close, it was also cool to think that something so ordinary could perform at such less-than-ordinary tasks.

We also discovered that science nerds and grammar geeks do not necessarily overlap.  (One of my friends did suggest that this might not be a grammatical error if they didn't really mean to be polite).

Straight back from the main building toward the marsh and Chincoteague Island beyond is the observation area.  To get a sense of the layout of the area, when facing Chincoteague with the building behind you, turn right a little less than 90 degrees to face the launch site (rocket shown in center of picture, just to the left of the water tower).  The causeway, where we viewed the Minotaur in November would be about 45 degrees to the left when facing away from the Visitor Center.

Outside of the few of us amateurs with our cell phone cameras, this lady had about the smallest camera out there.  Some had lenses that looked like scavenged rocket nozzles with microphones resembling small cats mounted atop them.  The crowd was a good mix of those seeing their first launches, veterans of multiple launches, news crews and wanna-be reporters.  There were also several foreign accents, leading me to endless disappointment in my fellow Americans, who allow Lithuanians and Mexicans to show the dedication required to travel great distances to see the big event, while coming out in relatively small numbers themselves (not so small as to cost us seats at the top of the grandstand when we dallied too long before coming out).

Killing time, we noted airplanes playing tic-tac-toe in the sky.  Either the first move was so clever as to force his opponent to quit right away or an "O" is just too difficult to execute, as we saw no more of the game.

There was a lady there handing out special glasses to view sunspots.  This picture does not do justice to how clearly you could see the sun (much sharper than using the filter on a camera phone; you could actually see a sunspot).

As we awaited the launch, the crowd outside of the grandstand spread further out in a line, most taking care not to block the view of someone there ahead of them.  But in the seconds leading up to ignition, a few moved ahead toward the edge of the field and started a chain reaction migration.  There were a few shouts to move out of the way and most either stepped aside or stepped down the bank to ease their guilt.  My view was not greatly inhibited, but they can be seen in the foreground and we decided to either scout a better site or start off where they ended up (unless we could get the top row of the grandstand).  Again, I make a promise to eventually post the longer video, but I pay by the GB here, so the 15s version, along with a couple of captures will have to suffice for now.

"...High in the sunlit silence.  Hov'ring there

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air...

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace..."*

"...The high, untresspassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God."*

(This picture is some minutes after launch, showing the rocket contrails disrupted by wind in the background.  It may be where the first stage disengaged.  I was taken by the perspective, with nature, represented by the wind-blown stalks, in the foreground and man, represented by evidence of some of his greatest technological accomplishments showing through).

Hungry and wired on adrenaline, we headed off across the causeway for lunch.  Full of good eats and things to do in the warmer months, our top choices were all closed for the season and we ended up having pizza and subs, which, other than being far too heavy on the oregano, were decent enough (I leave the name off because I hate to criticize a business that has friendly people and is accessible when others are closed).  Thankfully, Island Creamery stays open year round and proves that if you are dependable in providing people with a good product and good service, location, timing and all the rest are much less important (selling ice cream on a day when the creeks are frozen and the wind is howling in a resort community during the offseason is not the easiest of tasks, but they had a steady flow of business; visit during the warmer nights of summer and you will see a line out to the street, despite the efficiency with which they move that line).  I do not hesitate to name and recommend them for any who like homemade ice cream; just be forewarned that the more indulgent flavors (e.g., Birthday Cake) may be too much for even the sweetest of teeth.

The nice part of midday launches is that, even after lunch and the obligatory visit to the Island Creamery, there is plenty of time to explore.  In addition to the advertised attractions (and Assateague is definitely worth a ride through to see the wild horses and light house; there is also a very nice beach there), there is quite a bit of scenery to take in (if, like me, you like exploring the back roads and seeing the things most people miss).  This boat is near the southern end of the island, adjacent to a trailer park.  Most of the island is barely above sea level and what passes for "yards" in some places might be more correctly called "moats".

Upon leaving the island, we decided to scout out other vantage points.  I will not disclose all we found (may have more after the next launch), but will share a few sights.

Near the community of Atlantic, Virginia, this church has probably seen plenty of history, though the cemetery seems to get most of the attention now.  Most of the inhabitants of the area were black and I wonder how far back the church went, who it served and what kinds of interesting things went on there.  As much work has been done preserving history in more noteworthy places, there is only so much that can be done and I do mourn for the lost stories.

This building is across the street from the old church and cemetery.  I assume that it is where the congregation moved later, but could be wrong.  In any event, it, too, appears to be unused now and there are no other structures around besides a few homes.

Head further south from Atlantic and hang a left at the split and you eventually come to this obstruction to getting any closer.

Backing down the road a little and looking off slightly to the right of the gate, I could see this water tower.  This is likely the closest I got to the launch pad.

Here I prove that my finger got as close as the rest of me.

This may have been the media tent I was not invited to.  Could also have been the site of a small family reunion in an unusual setting.

Last picture I have to share.  I had to work hard to filter my comments on FB for this one out of respect for a community that probably catches a lot of flack over their name (and one that sounds far more inappropriate than Scranton) and will withhold all comments here.  Just enjoy where your mind takes you with it.

*- Continuing the theme from the last post, "Slipping those surly bonds" (a title that was paraphrased from the verbatim, "slipped the surly bonds of earth"), these lines are from "High Flight" by John Magee.  Check the previous post for more (though I did not identify the title in that one).

** - We all know that space is cold, but not all know that cooling is still one of the major obstacles to life in space.  A vacuum is the best insulator, since heat must transfer through matter.  If an object (or person) produces heat and has no matter surrounding them to transfer it to, that heat builds up.  This should make sense to any who have driven at high altitudes and seen coolant temperatures and brake heat go up despite bitter cold temperatures outside.  For the rest, either trust me or do some of your own research to understand.

*** - Well known for rockets, shuttles and satellites, NASA also has some pretty impressive balloon operations.  I had the pleasure of seeing one of their giant, transparent, pumpkin-like balloons inflated in our hanger at work (TCOM, LP - a Lighter Than Air balloon manufacturer).  Beyond terrestrial operations, there have been proposed missions of LTA vehicles on other planets (Venus, in particular, is a great candidate, with it's ultra-high atmospheric pressure favoring such operations, while making traditional landers impractical); unfortunately, I have not been involved in anything quite so cool and would likely be only on the periphery if we did work on it.

Slipping those surly bonds*

I get excited about space flight.  Very excited.

I was raised on Star Trek TOS reruns before they were TOS (The Original Series was The Only Series until September 1987, when The Next Generation first aired).  I've read Heinlein's stories of D.D. Harriman and Bradbury's tales of colonizing Mars.  I watched one of the first Columbia flights launch live in my fourth grade class (I think it may have been STS-2, but can't swear to it; the only other event I can remember them rolling an AV stand into the classroom to watch coverage of was the assassination attempt on President Reagan); one of my strongest memories of my adolescence was watching Challenger disaster on TV and being convinced that somehow they had to have made it out and would be rescued.
It seemed to me that we were on the verge of erasing the line between science and science fiction.  Humans were getting better at getting off the ground at an accelerating rate - it took millennia to go from grounded to hovering in hot air balloons; it took several decades for the first heavier than air flights (gliders) and 120 years to make short hops on powered aircraft; less than seven years later, the first plane took off from the deck of a ship**; in short succession, we went from wood and fabric to all metal construction and replaced the internal combustion engine and propeller with a jet engine as early as 1942 (less than four decades after the first powered flight); WWII also saw the development of rockets, which would launch the first satellite in the 50's and put men on the moon in '69; now, here we were with a reusable orbiter capable of larger crews and more cargo.
And then nothing... we won the space race and didn't want to compete any more.  Shuttles kept flying until 2011 (much longer than the four decade old technology was intended for), after which we had to rent Russian rockets to get to the International Space Station.

I continued reading science fiction and watching it on television and in movies, but rather than anxiously awaiting the next big thing, all that was left to do was wish on a star that we would find enough motivation in exploring space "because it [is] there"*** and give the next generation something to fascinate them.
But despite this pessimistic state of things, there turned out to be other nations looking to make a name for themselves in reopening the extra-terrestrial domain and a few resourceful and determined people ready to step up in the spirit of the Wright Brothers tackle space without the full backing of government.  There also remained a contingent at NASA committed to fulfilling their mission with whatever tools they were given (the Mars rovers, Cassini, Hubble and a number of other unmanned missions have provided us with incredible images and information, even if they did not provide us the vicarious thrill of manned flight... and of course, the fantasy of joining their ranks one day).
And now, with private American companies supplying the ISS and maybe the Orion and accompanying SLS getting off the ground in a few years, we few dreamers have something to get excited about.  In addition, those of us in the mid-Atlantic don't even have to go to Florida to see launches in person, either.  When I got the chance to see a live launch, I jumped on it, making a mad rush up the Eastern Shore of Virginia to Wallops Island to watch a night launch of a Minotaur rocket carrying a record 29 satellites into Low Earth Orbit with my 11 year old son.

Getting there too late to view the launch from the visitor center (they say you should arrive an hour early), we continued on toward Chincoteague and pulled off the causeway onto the parking area for the boat ramp.  It was a cool night with a chilly wind off the water, but the cold did not affect our enthusiasm.

While we waited, we streamed the live feed of the countdown, explored our surroundings and took in the scenery, including this nearly full moon over one of the bridges, reflecting off the creek.  The lights off to the right are Chincoteague Island.  The launch site is about 3/8 of a turn to the right (3/4 pi, to the math nerds).

Our wait got extended somewhat due to communications issues, but the Minotaur had about a 3 hour window and conditions were favorable, so it was not a fatal event.  As the countdown approached T-1 minute, the atmosphere at the now very crowded boat launch became very still, as everyone focused on the string of lights along the shoreline of Wallops Island.  There are a number of cliches to describe the anticipation of a crowd at such a time, but the best I can describe it is that time, normally a vague concept at best and an ignored one at worst, felt tangible.  Our collective focus was on a space some five miles to our south and a time that was steadily creeping toward the moment that spot of earth lost its grip on a sleek tube of metal that really should have been too heavy to go floating away.

And when it happened, it came with that unrealistic feel that Christmas morning sometimes has.  It was incredibly bright, even with the full moon behind us, but silent... at first.  And if I had been excited by space flight before I got there, it was nothing compared to how I felt about it at that moment.

The first image is a screen capture from the launch video I shot; the second is another capture with a filter applied; the latter is less representative of the overall scene, but I think you can see the hint of the rocket itself illuminated.

As it rose vertically and then made a turn to pass across the sky, the sound hit (I may try to upload the entire video later), a sign of the distance that is hard to gauge in such situations.  The whine of an Indy car, clatter of an industrial diesel or rumble of a stock car V-8 may all convey a sense of power, but they are all of a scale that we have reference to in our everyday lives.  The steady state flat-out roar of the ongoing explosion at the bottom of a launch system, determined to prove that rocks DO fly gives the sense of power of mythical proportions; you could easily place it in a fairy tale as a dragon incinerates a village with his breath.

Not long after passing what appeared to be its closest approach to us (more correctly, the point at which we stopped raising our heads and started turning them to follow), there was a flash of light from the first stage separating.  From there, the second stage continued on while the first fell behind, going invisible for a few seconds and then flaring up.  I managed a couple of captures of this, but the limits of the iPhone camera (a device capable of better pictures than most of the cameras I have owned in my lifetime, but still not designed with the intent of capturing night images of rockets flying across the sky) do not do justice to how clear it was in person:

And then came the obligatory, "holy cow, that was awesome", "can you believe that" and the like.  And of course, the vow to be back for the next one, a much larger Antares rocket carrying supplies to the ISS, a vow we kept that will be covered in my next post, hopefully within the next day or so.

*- The quote "slipped the surly bonds of earth and touched the face of God" may be familiar to the reader, as they were used by President Reagan in reference to the loss of the Challenger and its crew 28 years ago this month.  They are actually two lines (the first and last) of a poem by John Gillespie Magee, a WWII pilot who wrote it after flying above 30000 feet in his Spitfire Mk 1.  He died not long after in a training flight collision at the age of 19.  These two lines appear on his grave marker.  His story is worth a read.

**- The story of Eugene Ely is also worth a read, especially for those from the Hampton Roads region (like myself).  This flight took place not far from the largest naval base in the world, where several modern aircraft carriers are based, as well as Newport News Shipbuilding, where all U.S. Navy carriers are built.

Ely, like Magee, died in a plane crash shortly after his most noteworthy accomplishment.

***- Often attributed to Sir Edmund Hillary, it was George Mallory who said of his reason for climbing Mt. Everest, "because it is there".  What more reason is needed?

Dis un is pre-fixed

Everyone putes admiration of ciples of the crowd and fears being tinct. But we rarely cern, often cuss and tend to play and close the fact that our self-esteem is mantled by the aster of being counted for our work and seen as heveled.  We are mayed by those who dain and are gusted by us.  I can’t pel this notion, but I know these are the things that make us gruntled and I am turbed by those who tort their appreciation of others.

As noted in previous posts, I see things differently, noting patterns in words and inconsistencies in language or thinking.  One form of this [disorder?] that I face daily is with prefixes.  As seen above, taking the prefix “dis-“ off to create an opposite word (something that works with disenfranchise, disagree, disharmony…) does not always work (such as a ciple being one who does not follow or aster being a positive event), though it often makes some cool sounding words.  If the “dis” is not really distinct, it really fails (hrag = a cloth used to apply food scraps to dinnerware).

I also tend to define the prefix “un-“ to mean reverse a process (undo, unwrap, untie, unwind and unstitch are all good examples).  But this is not always proper.  Unsweetened tea COULD be tea that had sugar removed from it, but is probably not; in some instances, the present tense implies reversing (unwrap), but the past tense is as likely or more so to be the latter definition (unwrapped).

That’s really all I have to say for now on the subject, other than to encourage the reader to think up some cool or funny “un-dis” words and to keep an ear out for “unfinished wood”, “uncooked meat” and “unchanging conditions” (the last being ironic if you think of it in the right way… maybe tilt your head to the right and angle the eyes  upward to shift the thoughts slightly out of their traditional places).

Post Script 20140128: I was listening to one of the radio morning shows and heard the disclaimer about a phone call being "prerecorded", which reminded me of the great George Carlin routines about the english language (the two I recall specifically were in regards to airline announcements and prefixes, particularly "pre-").  Of course it was prerecorded - postrecording is impossible!
Another recent instance of my troubles with the way things are said or written is the ambiguous (in my mind, at least) use of the symbol "-" for both subtraction and indication of range:

Of course, we all know this indicates a minimum of 7" and maximum of 10" forecast for the darker shade of purple.  But my mind instantly jumps to -3" of snow.  You might think this is a minor concern (or no concern at all), but I ask you to place yourself in my mind (if you dare) and consider the possible meanings of a negative snowfall.
Don't just stop with having some accumulation already on the ground and 3" of it heading back up toward the sky.  Keep pondering this until you have a satisfactory explanation.  Go through snow somehow displacing the ground 3" deep and 3" of anti-snow, made of two anti-hydrogen (an anti-proton and positron) and one anti-oxygen atom frozen (and imagine the anti-snowman coming in contact with Frosty and annihilating each other, releasing pure energy).  Keep going until you are ready to run for Congress, just so you can push a Constitutional amendment mandating all ranges be shown as mathematical inequalities (e.g., the snow forecast above could be labeled 7" < ❅ < 10").
On a somewhat related tangent, it took me quite a while to figure out the Bad Company's album, "10 from 6" referred to 10 of their greatest hits from 6 of their albums and had nothing to do with negative 4.