The missed moment #5 – The Rocket’s Trail in the Northern Lights

 

Last month, I had the chance to travel to New Zealand to attend a conference on space technologies for forest research. I’ve been using satellite images in ecological research since 2012 and had already attended the same event in Chile eight years ago. Since then, things have changed considerably, with many new technologies and satellites in operation, constantly gathering data across the globe.

 

Among the thousands of satellites orbiting the planet right now, two have been critically important since the beginning of the century and are nearing retirement. The Terra and Aqua satellites, designed to last less than a decade, have been functioning for over twenty years and, carrying the same sensor, provide essential data for studying ecosystems on a large scale.

 

At the opening conference of the congress, Professor Crystal Schaaf, responsible for managing all images generated by the sensors onboard Terra and Aqua, shared the history of the development of these two missions and her personal involvement with them.

 

Perhaps the most anticipated and critical moment of any space mission is the launch of the rockets carrying the satellites. For Professor Schaaf, however, the Terra launch, the first of the two satellites, was the most thrilling moment of her life—even more exciting than her daughter’s birth, whom she brought to watch Aqua’s launch two years later.

 

It was funny hearing the rocket launch stories since I’ve also had an experience with them. But instead of being professionally involved in a space mission, I was preparing to photograph the northern lights on the Vesteralen Islands in Norway, exactly two years ago.

 

The archipelago is one of the best places in the world to see the auroras, as its location offers favorable weather conditions and, thus, clear night skies that allow the phenomenon to be seen. For the same reason, Andøy Island is home to a small rocket launch center, Andøy Space Center.

 

Now, if I may, I’ll share an excerpt from my travel diary, as the time since then keeps me from recalling all the details of that missed photo.

 

“The plan that night was to photograph on the beach, but the road was blocked by a truck […]. I finally saw the roadblock (which I had seen the night before when I arrived) was lifted. I packed everything up and went to Bleik. Actually, to the viewpoint, just to admire the night a bit without photographing. Passing Andøy Space Center, I saw two towers that hadn’t been there during the day. What were they? I stopped at the viewpoint just to enjoy the night.

 

But the auroras were strong and beautiful, low in the sky to the north, and I couldn’t resist. I had to go back to the car to get the tripods and cameras. As I set up one camera on the tripod on the ground and was mounting the other, a patrol car with flashing lights pulled up behind me. Out stepped a huge Viking, his arms as thick as my thigh, bald, bearded, and with earrings.

 

-You can’t stay here.

I froze. What had I done wrong?

-Do you understand?

-Yes.

-Ok, so, you can’t stay here. You need to go either to Bleik or Andenes.

Before I could ask why…

-We’re going to launch a rocket.

-Wow! Is it possible to see it?

-Yes, you can see it from anywhere, even from behind the mountain.

 

What?! They were launching a rocket!

 

[The Viking] went to the other car [parked ahead] and spoke in Norwegian to those inside. I waited a bit until he returned and asked him where would be the best place to watch. He repeated that you could see it from anywhere, but told me that from Andenes, taking the road back, turning left and then the next left, I’d have a full view.”

 

The road wasn’t closed for construction but for the launch site’s safety. So, I returned to town and spent a few hours monitoring the situation from a beach. Two cameras were set up on tripods, watching the launch site, and the auroras didn’t stop shining. My expectation of capturing a beautiful photo with the rocket’s trail and the auroras in the background was enormous. But as time passed, the road reopened, the launch towers were lowered, and, to my disappointment, the mission was aborted that night. I took many other photos, but I dreamed of those rockets. I was a bit disappointed to have missed an opportunity like that, and for a few moments, I even thought they might have launched and I just didn’t see it.

 

The next afternoon, I left my cabin a little earlier than usual, as I was going further away to shoot at night. I was exactly behind the mountain the Viking had mentioned, and as soon as I left, I saw a light. I thought it was a truck far down the road. The light came with an explosion. I was bewildered. The explosion was followed by a very loud noise. I looked up… and there it was, climbing to infinity.

 

Suddenly, another flash, another noise, and another rocket. Just like Terra and Aqua separated by two years, I saw two rockets launched twenty minutes apart. Even from behind the mountain, I can say it was spectacular. Only after they vanished into the sky did I think of getting my cameras out of the backpack. It was too late. I was a bit sad to know that from then on, the chances of making my photo of the rocket with the auroras were out of reach.

 

I wrote in the diary: “A mix of joy and disappointment when another flash came, another boom, and… another rocket! I saw this one in its entirety, from the detachment of one stage until it disappeared into infinity […] I eternalize this moment in words. And with a NASA report”