With the objective of getting us closer to the action, those who don’t have the prililege to be there personally, I have invited Ben Cooper, amazing launch photographer, who will be at KSC, witnessing, once more with his camera, another very special event: the hours are passing and the Shuttle Atlantis is scheduled to launch Thursday, 2:45pm EST, on mission STS-122, with the European Columbus science laboratory onboard.
Ben will be, as his short time permits it, spacEurope’s eyes at the Kennedy Space Center, reporting, with updated information and curiosities from this milestone for the International Space Station.
As on previous occasions the comment box is the place to visit, it is there that Ben will leave his insights as time takes us towards the flight of the Atlantis Space Shuttle.
In the meanwhile, don’t forget to visit Ben’s webpage and get amazed by his art as a witness of this collective adventure.
Ben will be, as his short time permits it, spacEurope’s eyes at the Kennedy Space Center, reporting, with updated information and curiosities from this milestone for the International Space Station.
As on previous occasions the comment box is the place to visit, it is there that Ben will leave his insights as time takes us towards the flight of the Atlantis Space Shuttle.
In the meanwhile, don’t forget to visit Ben’s webpage and get amazed by his art as a witness of this collective adventure.
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Today, Columbus set sail on a modern day voyage of science and exploration. The shuttle Atlantis, beating 70% improbable odds of bad weather, rose into a mostly sunny Florida sky on twin columns of liquid gold and three main engines totaling 7.5 million pounds of thrust.
For those not able to experience the world-class event, what follows should help put you in the shoes of those who did.
Wednesday, Feb. 6
Early in the morning, before most of the birds are awake, photographers are making their way into KSC with their “remote” cameras. These special cameras, outfitted with triggers and sensors that detect the immense sound or vibration from the shuttle, or the light from its boosters, will fire the cameras when the shuttle launches. They will be placed at the launch pad itself, far closer than any humans – except the astronauts – will be at launch time.
We trudge through smelly swamp land in thick boots to get to the spots we want. We watch for snakes, alligators, giant banana spiders and their webs, and even wild pigs that may be interested in our setup too. From early morning to sundown, van by van, we move around to various spots around the half-mile-wide launch pad and its vicinity. We are looking for the perfect shot, whether it’s in the water itself or between bushes.
As sundown nears, we make our way to the front of the launch pad, where Atlantis remains covered by the giant Rotating Service Structure; a giant door-like gantry that protects the orbiter on the pad and allows the shuttle to be serviced, and the payload – Europe’s Columbus science laboratory – to be loaded into the payload bay.
In a few moments that turn into 90, the RSS will be rotated back more than 90 degrees to its open launch position. For the first time in months, Atlantis is revealed.
First, just a wing wip. Then the nose, and soon the whole orbiter creeps into view. It is an errie, cosmic sight under the stars like no other on earth. There is a strange quiet in the area, the giant winged spaceship softly lit with lighting like you would find in a sports complex. The silence is a stark difference compared to what awaits tomorrow.
When the operation is completed, the first sign of an impending hellish launch pops into view. Suddenly, a blazing ball of fire roars into the air to the right of the shuttle. It is the hydrogen flare stack, a normal part of any cryogenic facility. The giant orange flame burns silently in the dark.
Then, one by one, giant beams of light suddenly grace the shuttle. The soft lighting turns into bold, harsh white luminescence. The shuttle looks unreal, as the powerful xenon spotlights come on, their beams penetrating miles into the sky. They are visible from as much as 50 miles away in the dark, well over the horizon. They are the signal of an imminent launch at Cape Canaveral.
Thursday, Feb. 7
It’s 8:00 a.m., just under seven hours before launch and we are making our way back to Kennedy Space Center for the main event.
But the excitement this particular morning is literally overshadowed by thick clouds. The shuttle weather team has given just a 30 percent shot of getting off today due to an impinging cold front with clouds and rain.
Or so we thought. As we arrive at KSC, we drive into mostly clear skies. The sun is shining. Still, lingering thoughts of a sudden change believe the worst is yet to come. Knowing they have been wrong on occasion before, we hold out hope, but not much.
At just before 10:00, we board busses and head over to the Operations and Checkout Building, the O&C as locals call it. In just under an hour, the seven member crew of Atlantis will walk out of the two doors in front of us in an event known as, well, “walkout”.
The 20 foot walk takes them to their ride, the Astrovan. It is the last earthly ride they will be taking for a few weeks. Meanwhile, they donn their orange day-glow suits for the ride uphill, and shortly thereafter present themselves; smiling and waving at friends and family, they are likely wondering if they are wasting their time today. One group of people wave a sign at the crew; it says “Happy Birthday in Space Leland Melvin!” Melvin will turn 44 on Feb. 15.
Repeating an age-old tradition started one mission ago, the crew stops in front of the Astrovan and poses for a few moments before beginning their 20 minute ride to Launch Pad 39A. Their thoughts are all their own.
As we wait out the final three hours before the certain-scrub, we watch them board Atlantis one by one on the television screens lining the press center, located exactly three miles away from Launch Pad 39A. In the distance, mostly hidden by the launch tower, Atlantis is silent, but breathing. Liquid oxygen pours in slow motion out of the top of the orange, external fuel tank; whose sensors, by the way, are finally working after two months of repairs.
About two hours before launch, the weather team reports they are willing to push to a 40 percent chance of good weather instead. The news is marginally good. Could it be?
Good news comes over the scanner we are listening to. Astronaut Steve Lindsey, flying weather reconnaissance over the space center, reports the weather is now observed – and forecast – to be go at launch time. A nice cheer is let out as the final minutes of the count approach.
In launch control, across the street, the final poll is conducted. All stations are go. Weather is go. The astronauts are go. The green light is given to resume the countdown. The final nine minutes are about to get underway.
The clock picks up. This is it.
The hatch access walkway is retracted, the final bit of connection to earth for the astronauts now trapped inside. No one else is as close as they are, except the cameras, now waiting patiently.
Two minutes. Fueling top-off is ceased, the oxygen stops venting. Pressurization is occurring.
The astronauts are instructed to close their visors and turn their oxygen on.
One minute.
The orbiter is now on internal power. 31 seconds, the computers are now in control of the count.
Thousands of checks are being performed at high speed to make sure all is ready.
20 seconds. 15.
Hundreds of thousands of gallons of water begins to flow on top of and below the launch pad. It’s going to need it to survive intact.
Ten, nine, eight…
With a flash of light, the three main engines ignite! 400,000 pounds of thrust apiece, their flames are transparent.
Three, two one…
Columbus is beginning a 21st century voyage like no other! Two months late but on time today, the shuttle Atlantis rises atop molten gold so bright it hurts your eyes.
Something’s wrong though. Three miles away, all is quiet. Nope, their it is! With a sudden whoosh, the sound of the main engines kicks in. The building I am standing on begins to rattle. Then the solid rocket boosters. The sound levels amplify. The crackle begins. Like the loudest firecracker you have ever played with, the shuttle slams through a thin cirrus layer and casts a shadow across the area. You can’t hear yourself think at this point. A maximum of 7.5 million pounds of thrust push the shuttle through the ever-thinning air on its way uphill.
And before you know it, it’s over. The 15-story boosters are cast away into the ocean. A bright star is all that’s left, gaining ever more speed, ever more altitude and ever more distance from us. We are left with our mouths agape. Another spectacular sight like no other is over.
Columbus II, 516 years after the first, is in orbit. The launch occurs seven years to the day after the first, and thus far only science laboratory was also launched by Atlantis to the space station; the on-orbit science lab that is now truly international.
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