To Boldly Go

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When Star Trek first hit the television network in September 1966, it caused quite a stir among folks such as my young self who, at 15 years old, was beginning my sophomore year of high school.

It caused consternation to one of my English teachers who informed every class she taught that “to boldly go,” was incorrect use of the language and was a “split infinitive,” and that the correct usage was “to go boldly.”

Well, Star Trek continued to “boldly go where no man has gone before,” for nearly sixty years, but they did modify the “man” to “no one.”

I and a few friends had, before Star Trek ever entered our thoughts, discovered model rockets. The big name back then was Estes Industries of Colorado who offered rockets kits for sale where young (and old) budding rocketeers could build and launch model rockets.

The kits, depending on what level of expertise the rocket builder brought to the table, ranged from an amazingly simple one stage, inexpensive, rocket to two or three stage rockets that were complex, with multiple engines, and required careful attention and a more advanced level of skill.

The engines were a solid fuel, single use, device that were electrically ignited (one could use a fuse, but NASA didn’t so why should we?) that was about the size of a roll of dimes. The Level 1 rockets were constructed with cardboard and balsa wood, but the more advanced kits also had parts of plastic and metal.

The average flight of a model rocket was about 400 to 1,600 feet but, in 2013, rocketeers from Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University set a new record by launching a small rocket 47,732 feet or 1.6 times higher than Mount Everest. The previous record was 22,000 feet.

My first rocket was an Astron Streak which was 5.6 inches tall and cost &1.75 plus shipping. All model rockets, by the way, were multi-use long before Elson Musk utilized the recovery of spent rockets.

There were four ways a rocket was recovered: (1) a featherweight design that made the rocket so light that it simply fell to the earth without harm: (2) Tumble Recovery which meant that the rocket was constructed to tumble and create the drag needed to slow it down as it fell; (3) Parachutes, either one or multiple, depending on the complexity and size of the rocket, and (4) Glide Recovery, sort of a forerunner design to the Space Shuttle.

My second rocket, the Astron Scout, was the first rocket Estes produced in 1960. One is owned or on loan at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum. The tumble recovery Scout probably cost me less than $4 but I saw a vintage one on eBay for sale for $179.

I had several different types of rockets and focused my 8th grade and 9th grade science fair projects around the rockets. In the latter, I had a larger rocket powered by a cluster of three engines designed to carry a hamster in the payload section and deliver him safely back to Earth. The rocket performed well, and the hamster survived, although, I suspect, he was a little disoriented.

When my older two sons came along, they built and launched rockets too. I can’t remember if the youngest son built rockets but he was present at a launch a few times. Before the population increased so much in our area, we could always find a field large enough to launch and recover rockets. Now, it’s a problem.

The difficulties in launching the more advanced devices are: not enough open land, the winds that often blow moderately strongly, and trees. North Georgia is filled with trees which is wonderful, but parachutes can be captured by the tall pines and the rockets are lost.

I have thought about, and continue to this day, to think about doing it all over again. I don’t know what happened to my old rockets, but I assume they were lost on the various moves over the years.

I have always loved watching NASA launch the big rockets that take people and devices into orbit and beyond. But, in all truth, there’s just something thrilling about putting together the pieces of your own rocket, hooking it up to a launching pad, counting down from “10,” and watching the thing soar into the sky with a “WHOOSH.” And when it does, part of me boldly goes with it.

[David Epps is the Rector of the Cathedral of Christ the King (www.ctk.life). Worship services are on Sundays at 10:00 a.m. and on livestream at www.ctk.life. He is the bishop of the Diocese of the Mid-South (www.midsouthdiocese.life). He may be contacted at davidepps@ctk.life.]