LIGO

Launch
began to trickle down: not a component
failure, more a flight analysis issue perhaps?
Before long we were summoned to gather
to hear the official statement: launch cancelled
– at least for tonight; no update until
tomorrow lunchtime; problem is a potential
one rather than an actual one: the long
shadow period for the fourth stage before
re-ignition might result in it getting too
cold; further analysis to be conducted overnight
in various places. Concern and disappointment
spread rapidly. Phone reception
was almost non-existent in the restaurant
so communication back to Europe was almost
impossible. A couple of us overheard
that reception was possible “in the middle
of the Kourou river”. So I cancelled the
planned Glasgow launch party by texting
while leaning off the end of a boat launch
pontoon just by the restaurant!
The remainder of Tuesday was fairly subdued.
A trip to the Jupiter mission control
room showed us where we would be for
the actual launch – if it happened. However
we were very conscious that our delayed
return flight would have to leave Cayenne
at 0700 on Wednesday morning, launch or
no-launch, so spirits were a bit muted. With
time to be filled on Wednesday morning I
went on a tour to the zoo. It was hard, however,
to stop clock watching: the time till
the launch update news dragged on. As we
drove to lunch we passed a convoy of Foreign
Legion trucks heading in the direction
of the Spaceport. We knew they had a role in
securing the site for a launch. Did they know
something we didn’t? It must be a sign...
Again it was at lunch that the news broke.
First the whispers from a table of engineers,
then the spreading smiles. A phone call to
Stefano Vitale at our table brought more
details - and the smiles spread further!
Should we send messages home? Better
not; wait for the official announcement.
Another summons to an adjacent room
to hear the update: go for launch at 01.04
Kourou time!
Parties in Europe were hastily reconvened
while we had our final dinner at the hotel.
Bags were packed in readiness for a hasty
post-launch departure, then it was back on
the buses to the Jupiter room. In the “fishbowl”
– separated from us by huge glass
walls – controllers were hard at work. Big
screens showed live video of the launcher
and countdown timers. Finally everyone
took their assigned seat, the room hushed
and the live ESA and Arianspace TV presentation
began. For me it was a particular
pleasure to hear the Project Scientist, Paul
McNamara, talk us through the final stages.
Paul is a former PhD student of mine at
Glasgow, and like many of us, has spent a
very long time preparing for this moment.
With just one minute to launch the doors
to the viewing platforms were swung open
and everyone made a move. Once outside
there was just time to (push to) get a good
spot, face in the correct direction, try to get
a camera turned on, and then hear over the
public address “trois, deux, un, top, alloumage“.
In the distance the sky lights up. For a fraction
of a second time seems to slow down
as you mentally evaluate if what you are
seeing is more consistent with a launchpad
explosion or a successful lift-off! But then all
is clear: lift-off – and an extremely fast one.
Not like the leisurely Apollo launches of my
youth, more like a firework at a New Year’s
party. The launcher quickly vanished into
the clouds, but by good fortune reappeared
briefly through a gap in the clouds about
half a minute later, at which point we also
heard the loud rumble of the launch.
The launch schedule of 1am in French Guiana meant that the local time in Glasgow, three hours east, would be
appropriate neither for a late evening nor an early awakening. Instead, our local contingent of LISA Pathfinder
researchers decided to host an all-night party at the university’s newly refurbished observatory.
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