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alexpgpAmong the many milestones in a campaign schedule, the transfer of the assembled rocket from the processing facility to the launch pad - the so-called "rollout" - is a big one. The move occurred in the early hours and by 9 am, the rocket was at the pad and everyone on the launch team was assembled in the hotel lobby, getting ready to board the bus to go see the rocket placed in the vertical position.
On the way to the pad, the Khrunichev security folks took the opportunity to remind us all that, unlike the other pads we've visited in the past (run by the Experimental Machine-Building Design Bureau, or КБОМ), this complex was run by the Russian Space Forces, and that therefore, only people who carried photo permits (basically a badge that entitles the bearer to take photographs) would be allowed to break out cameras and take pictures, and then only under the close supervision of our military escort.
The only problem with getting this kind of word is that so much of what we are told turns out to be either not the case or, um, highly negotiable. In fact, I've long ago become used to sounding like an idiot after something I've just been asked to announce to our little crew turns out to be not so.
Case in point: We were told we would not be required to get off the bus to get into the launch complex; no sooner do I finish interpreting this message than we are told we do indeed have to get off and go through the access control office (контрольно-пропускной пункт) and exchange our badges for visitor's badges. Soon after I interpret the announcement that we could leave our emergency breathing units on the bus, we end up going back to get them because the access control people were checking to make sure each person had one. And so on.
What makes the photo issue particularly bad is that photo badges are issued for each campaign, and we are duly told, during the safety and security briefing at the start of the campaign, that only badged personnel are authorized to take pictures. Generally speaking, this rule is not enforced, especially during events such as the one we were going to now.
We finally all got to the pad and got out to have pictures taken with the still-horizontal launcher in the background. The military decreed we could only take pictures from a certain point, and that our cameras had to point "northward." (That's what the officer in charge told us. The actual direction he pointed to was westward, if Polaris is a reliable indicator). After carefully handing my camera to someone with a photo badge (an expeditious way to bypass the rule, nie?) I had the following grip-n-grin snapped of me:
In previous campaigns, everyone sort of milled around the launch pad area while the launcher was erected into the vertical position. Today, not only did the French crew have a safety requirement to retire 500 meters from the pad during the erection, but the weather was cold and windy, so not many ILS or other non-French people wanted to hang out near the launch area and stand in the cold wind, anyway. Eventually, the bus moved and upon coming to a stop outside the gates of the complex, we were told to stay inside the bus.
Of course, that was a signal for all the smokers on the bus to want to get off and light one up.
During our stay, and especially during this impromptu smoking circle, I noted that we were under the most steady observation, no doubt to make sure nobody was taking surruptitious photos. Of what? I couldn't tell you.
Once the Proton was vertical, the bus returned to the "zero point" and everyone again piled off to take pictures. I notice the French sing a song about "Jackie" at times like this (and generally, at the drop of a hat), where some of the words have been twisted to sound like "Alcatel." Such a merry crowd!
Here's a photo of me standing near the vertical Proton:
After returning to the Fili, I was almost immediately summoned to go help with some work in the vault, so it was back up to the room and into my red Pillsbury-doughboy costume and out to the waiting van for a three-hour stint at the vault.
I am well and truly tired, and it's nowhere near the end of the day.
Cheers...
On the way to the pad, the Khrunichev security folks took the opportunity to remind us all that, unlike the other pads we've visited in the past (run by the Experimental Machine-Building Design Bureau, or КБОМ), this complex was run by the Russian Space Forces, and that therefore, only people who carried photo permits (basically a badge that entitles the bearer to take photographs) would be allowed to break out cameras and take pictures, and then only under the close supervision of our military escort.
The only problem with getting this kind of word is that so much of what we are told turns out to be either not the case or, um, highly negotiable. In fact, I've long ago become used to sounding like an idiot after something I've just been asked to announce to our little crew turns out to be not so.
Case in point: We were told we would not be required to get off the bus to get into the launch complex; no sooner do I finish interpreting this message than we are told we do indeed have to get off and go through the access control office (контрольно-пропускной пункт) and exchange our badges for visitor's badges. Soon after I interpret the announcement that we could leave our emergency breathing units on the bus, we end up going back to get them because the access control people were checking to make sure each person had one. And so on.
What makes the photo issue particularly bad is that photo badges are issued for each campaign, and we are duly told, during the safety and security briefing at the start of the campaign, that only badged personnel are authorized to take pictures. Generally speaking, this rule is not enforced, especially during events such as the one we were going to now.
We finally all got to the pad and got out to have pictures taken with the still-horizontal launcher in the background. The military decreed we could only take pictures from a certain point, and that our cameras had to point "northward." (That's what the officer in charge told us. The actual direction he pointed to was westward, if Polaris is a reliable indicator). After carefully handing my camera to someone with a photo badge (an expeditious way to bypass the rule, nie?) I had the following grip-n-grin snapped of me:
In previous campaigns, everyone sort of milled around the launch pad area while the launcher was erected into the vertical position. Today, not only did the French crew have a safety requirement to retire 500 meters from the pad during the erection, but the weather was cold and windy, so not many ILS or other non-French people wanted to hang out near the launch area and stand in the cold wind, anyway. Eventually, the bus moved and upon coming to a stop outside the gates of the complex, we were told to stay inside the bus.
Of course, that was a signal for all the smokers on the bus to want to get off and light one up.
During our stay, and especially during this impromptu smoking circle, I noted that we were under the most steady observation, no doubt to make sure nobody was taking surruptitious photos. Of what? I couldn't tell you.
Once the Proton was vertical, the bus returned to the "zero point" and everyone again piled off to take pictures. I notice the French sing a song about "Jackie" at times like this (and generally, at the drop of a hat), where some of the words have been twisted to sound like "Alcatel." Such a merry crowd!
Here's a photo of me standing near the vertical Proton:
After returning to the Fili, I was almost immediately summoned to go help with some work in the vault, so it was back up to the room and into my red Pillsbury-doughboy costume and out to the waiting van for a three-hour stint at the vault.
I am well and truly tired, and it's nowhere near the end of the day.
Cheers...
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no subject
Date: 2005-01-30 07:10 pm (UTC)