Dark Works Space Labs

It is true what they say, friends really do make things easier, especially when carrying several nearly five foot tall unguided rockets through a hotel lobby. 

After months of work it was finally our team’s level 1 high powered rocketry certification flight attempt. To this point it had been quite the journey for our team of adventurers. A few dozen meetings, countless hours of calls, a rocket motor exchange in takeout plastic bags, hundreds of combined miles driven, hundreds of pages of documents created both for this website and for our own use. Alas the day was upon us but two questions were at the forefront of my mind:

Are we ready? Did we miss anything?

As the team’s lead it was my responsibility to plan the logistics and make sure we checked off all of the boxes for the team to certify. This responsibility was even more pointed the day of launch as I prepared in the morning by rereading the certification form again and again. “Do we understand center of pressure & center of gravity? Check. Do we have a motor certified by the National Association of Rocketry (NAR)? H219 is, so check.” You can actually see all of the gear just Sarah and I brought in the image below, including a backup 4th rocket. This doesn’t include Thomas’ (Tom’s) rocket and equipment or Marvin’s many cameras and gear.

Time for breakfast, nothing like a solid breakfast to calm a stressed soul. Though I would like to say I’m a cool person, I know I really am not. After all, as we waited for our breakfast in the hotel lobby, I could hardly contain both my excitement and nerves. I paced like a madman with a 5-foot rocket in my arms, I asked:

Are we ready? Should I be more worried?

The food took a while and both Sarah and Tom appeared solid as they ran through the checklists and other logistic details together, also waiting for their food. “Man my girlfriend and friend are awesome aren’t they,” I think to myself, “I should check in on my brother and uncle.” Luckily Marvin, my younger brother, is a fantastic photographer, with literal years of listening to my nerdy ramblings, and a nerd himself, had come out to photograph our launch that day. Recently added to our now 6 person team as a support team member, he had appeared in the last team call to ensure he knew the logistics both for ease of photography but also for his safety. Luckily, our uncle Ed, had graced us with his presence once more and actually picked Marvin up from the airport the day before and drove the 2 hours to the same hotel as us. He had always been particularly supportive of his two nephews, nerdy adventures, as we will call them. 

I walked out to their car to see how they’re doing, asked if they wanted any breakfast items, and gave them a quick update on the plan for getting to the launch site. After getting our food, we would split into three cars, Thomas in one, Sarah and I in another, and then Marvin and our uncle in the other. After walking back in to grab the food, we loaded up two of the cars with a surprising amount of gear, and yes, we had a checklist for all of it. Here again as we finish loading up, confirming the meeting spot, the launch site, I asked myself again:

Are we ready? Did we miss anything?

With our checks completed, we felt satisfied that we had packed everything, now for the 30 minute drive from the hotel to the launch site in Lucerne Valley, CA. I can’t in confidence say what Sarah and I spoke about during this drive but I do remember the sites as we drove past the relatively smaller towns on the way and cresting the hill looking down in Lucerne Valley. What I do remember clearly is the small panic of Sarah’s new car driving on a dirt trail as we left the paved road and drove onto the dry lake bed where the launch site is located. Luckily, it ended up being a slow but easy drive for that last mile or so. Pulling up, we could see a few cars, we were early but smaller hobby rockets that were already launching. Sarah and I parked and took account of the scene around us and took stock of our materials as we waited.

Having printed out and signed the waivers before hand, with two whole binders of information regarding the day, we went to the line to check in. As we stood there, waiting in line, we watched the first certification attempt of the day. Funny enough it was a fellow flyer we had met in the lobby of the hotel the night before. 

The hard screech of his level 1 rocket fired as we held our breath. Tense since we had talked with him, tense because the power of the rocket’s in our arms felt even larger watching his rocket ascend. I remember our quiet moment, it was our first time seeing a high powered amateur rocket fly in person. The tension grew and grew as we saw the rocket peak, it had made it to apogee. The tension kept growing as we watched his rocket ascend, peak, and then begin its rapid descent. Still no chute. With his rocket’s ever-growing speed, so did my nerves, there was going to be no chute for our new friend’s rocket. It would impact the ground and in doing so fail his certification. 

This part of the day really gripped me and still does. It stood out since it made the possibility of our own rockets failing much more real but more than anything else, it reminded me just how lucky I was to have a team. I had Sarah, Tom, two teammates eagerly waiting for updates, Marvin, and my uncle all there to do the work together and to support one another. This new sense of urgency and appreciation only made me ask the question louder:

Am I really ready? What if I let them down?

From this moment on, we prepared our rockets’ chutes near the back of Tom’s car, referring to his research and our binder of checklists. With that, parachutes were done. Next came the motors and our first real hiccup of the day.

The problem was timing, we’d been instructed not to open the motor packaging until launch day, which meant none of us had hands-on experience preparing the motor. The “motor” actually contains quite a lot such as the fuel, ignitor wires, parachute delay, and the black powder charge to deploy the chute. We knew how it worked in theory but in practice, this was much harder. Thankfully Neil was there to support and had recommended we shorten the standard H219-14A delay from 14 seconds to 10 seconds, even though our sims said 14 was fine. Being our new mentor and the insanely knowledgeable gentleman he is, we trusted his judgment instantly. The real stroke of luck came when we spotted the pop-up shop in a trailer at the launch site selling such tools. Tom bought what we needed, and within minutes we’d shortened the delay and installed the ignition charge on top of the motor. One problem solved.

The second hiccup was installation itself. Neil advised us to tape the outside of the motor to keep it from sliding out during flight. An ejection during ascent would be an automatic failure. We removed the motors, wrapped them carefully and forced them back into the tube with all our strength. Neil gave us a thumbs up. We were ready.

Now it was time to wait, we had just received our pad assignments. In this time of waiting, while the current groups were launching was a level 2 rocket with their certification flight. With rockets, paperwork, ignitors, and more in hand, we watched it also fail on ascent, tearing itself apart. At that moment, the prospects of us passing felt slim. I remember thinking to myself “I hope I can make Sarah and Tom laugh this off to help them not worry as much.” Marvin hilariously caught this thought in the image below. Of course, Sarah, being calm and steady as always, Tom, I’m sure having thoughts of his own, and I cracked a smile to tell some joke that wouldn’t help. 

When we were assigned launch pads Sarah and Tom had been assigned in the launch group ahead of me. I would be launching on my own. Doing it on my own had made me particularly nervous, disappointed even since I would have much preferred to watch and celebrate together. In that strange loneliness, I asked myself:

What am I going to do? Can I do this alone?

Luckily, in a moment that felt like an eternity ended quickly when they called my name. A pad in the back row was suddenly available and I was next in line. Walking out into the desert, I passed Sarah and Tom as they connected their rockets to the launch rails and wired up their ignitors. Here, I felt immense pride in seeing them work, but as I passed, walking further into the desert, each step feeling particularly heavier as the distance from them grew

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, now standing at the 6-foot rail, “let’s get to work.” As I worked on getting the rocket on the rail, turning on the camera, turning on the altimeter, I was suddenly interrupted as the distant loudspeaker rang out “5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” “Did I hear that right?” I asked myself. I did hear them right confirmed by the screech of a motor. I would be watching my team’s launches away from them and all while working on the last check for my rocket. The pressure was surely on now, though Tom’s rocket was next, a textbook launch and chute deployment. “Way to go Tom!” I told myself. Back to work, as two more rockets launched, it was now Sarah’s turn, and I stopped my work to watch. Another textbook flight! I could hardly contain my pride in both flights being flawless and then the sudden pressure as I was quickly reminded of my rocket. “I really hope I pass now!” 

With the altimeter and cameras running and nervously duct taped to the side of the rocket, plus the igniters connected and it safe to return to the viewing area, I left my rocket out in the desert thinking “I hope I see you soon” as if seeing off a friend I wouldn’t be seeing for a long time. Returning to my friends, I congratulated them, and from here, I don’t remember much as I waited for my rocket to fly with two other flights ahead of mine. Then my name was called and the quick countdown begins “5, 4, 3”

Can I really do this? Am I going to fail?

“2, 1.” The answer was here with another screech of the rocket’s engine. Up and up it went. Just a few eternities went by and the chute deployed and I took a deep first breath, perhaps the first deep breath in two days. All three of us would pass and the three of us celebrated as we started our walks into the desert to retrieve our rockets. Hilariously, my rocket made me work for it. I ended up chasing my rocket about a quarter mile as the wind reinflated its chute and dragged it across the dried and cracked lakebed. Perhaps one day, I will post the video captured on the onboard camera.

After the walk back and the three of us regrouped, Neil did his final inspection of our rockets, and passed us. We even got a patch from Rocketry Organization of California (ROC), that I proudly display at home with the Dark Works patches. 

The real moment came later, squeezed into two booths at In-N-Out, laptops and equipment scattered across the table in the lunch time rush. We pulled the video, there it was, our rocket climbing, the chute snapping open exactly as it should. Then the altimeter data, my rocket had reached 1,305 feet, went 274 mph and pulled a max of 17.8 Gs. Everything we’d obsessed over, planned for, double-checked and triple-checked, it had all worked, even the duct tape had held!

Though Dark Works is just getting started, less than a year old, we had built something together and succeeded. I could not be more proud of all of the work our team has put together to make the launch day be completed with three textbook certification flights. 

After all, friends really do make things easier, especially when launching several nearly five foot tall unguided rockets through the skies of Southern California.

A very special thank you to Marvin Fussell: The Talkative Photographer, for the on ground images!