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Signing the fairing...
May. 24th, 2010 10:05 pmI was the duty interpreter this morning, which meant I was responsible for translating new items on the lookahead schedule (something I am getting fairly good at, given that I don't normally work into Russian) and for interpreting at the morning coordination meeting.
It's funny how a meeting like that can be going along smoothly as anything, and then hit what appears to be a minor snag that soon threatens to snowball into something a lot more serious. The seriousness was averted during the meeting, and when it raised its fanged head later in the morning, it was dealt with expeditiously.
Signing rockets and missiles of various kinds is a practice having a long tradition. Among those who launch communications satellites, there is the practice of signing the logo on the payload fairing.
In earlier campaigns, the fairing signing was performed at the pad, after the rocket had been rolled out and made vertical. The event was always something of a logistical nightmare, because a special trip to the pad had to be arranged, then everyone had to be rounded up and given a hard hat and emergency breathing apparatus, and finally, only small groups of about 6-7 people could be on the fairing level of the tower at a time and these groups traveled up and down on a single elevator. The weather was usually a factor, too, being either too hot or too cold for most people's taste.
Then someone got the brilliant idea of signing the fairing at the integration facility, which solves all of the problems except for rounding people up and doesn't put a wrinkle in the pad schedule. Now that the Russian team has completed most of the work to install the fairing around the orbital unit (consisting of the upper stage, adapter system, and satellite), that was the main event for most campaigners today. Here's a photo of the encapsulated orbital unit:
While the Russian rigging crew waited patiently, we campaigners were allowed up on the cradle, a few at a time, where we could write a short personal note (or almost anything at all, really) thus putting our own personal stamp on the mission.
The fellow in the left-hand picture above was there to make sure the cradle was not overloaded, and the hand-lettered sign reads "Caution! The article has been outfitted with pyrotechnic charges." Most of the work being resumed upon our departure had to do with tomorrow's transfer of the orbital unit onto a railroad car so that the unit can be transferred to an adjacent hall, where it will be mated with the launch vehicle.
* * * I was invited to help support an informal, end-of-workday meeting that has become a tradition over many campaigns, between the French propellant team (which is actually based in the UK) and the folks who support the prop team from the Russian side. It is an opportunity to exchange souvenirs, tell a few jokes, and raise a small glass in friendship.
Dinner this evening had an Italian theme. Spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, wine, tossed salad. Topped off with a shot of homemade limoncello. With a recording of Dean Martin crooning old favorites like Ain't That a Kick in the Head? and Volare, it was a very enjoyable evening.
I am the on-call interpreter tomorrow, so I better get some sleep.
Cheers...
It's funny how a meeting like that can be going along smoothly as anything, and then hit what appears to be a minor snag that soon threatens to snowball into something a lot more serious. The seriousness was averted during the meeting, and when it raised its fanged head later in the morning, it was dealt with expeditiously.
Signing rockets and missiles of various kinds is a practice having a long tradition. Among those who launch communications satellites, there is the practice of signing the logo on the payload fairing.
In earlier campaigns, the fairing signing was performed at the pad, after the rocket had been rolled out and made vertical. The event was always something of a logistical nightmare, because a special trip to the pad had to be arranged, then everyone had to be rounded up and given a hard hat and emergency breathing apparatus, and finally, only small groups of about 6-7 people could be on the fairing level of the tower at a time and these groups traveled up and down on a single elevator. The weather was usually a factor, too, being either too hot or too cold for most people's taste.
Then someone got the brilliant idea of signing the fairing at the integration facility, which solves all of the problems except for rounding people up and doesn't put a wrinkle in the pad schedule. Now that the Russian team has completed most of the work to install the fairing around the orbital unit (consisting of the upper stage, adapter system, and satellite), that was the main event for most campaigners today. Here's a photo of the encapsulated orbital unit:
While the Russian rigging crew waited patiently, we campaigners were allowed up on the cradle, a few at a time, where we could write a short personal note (or almost anything at all, really) thus putting our own personal stamp on the mission.
The fellow in the left-hand picture above was there to make sure the cradle was not overloaded, and the hand-lettered sign reads "Caution! The article has been outfitted with pyrotechnic charges." Most of the work being resumed upon our departure had to do with tomorrow's transfer of the orbital unit onto a railroad car so that the unit can be transferred to an adjacent hall, where it will be mated with the launch vehicle.
Dinner this evening had an Italian theme. Spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, wine, tossed salad. Topped off with a shot of homemade limoncello. With a recording of Dean Martin crooning old favorites like Ain't That a Kick in the Head? and Volare, it was a very enjoyable evening.
I am the on-call interpreter tomorrow, so I better get some sleep.
Cheers...
