Space – Michael Stephen Wills Photography

Stargazing Winter’s Crab: Watching the 2019 Total Lunar Eclipse Near Cancer’s Beehive Cluster

Join me as a full moon slips into Earth’s shadow, turning copper beside Cancer’s Beehive—science, illusion, and wonder entwined in a winter night.

September 16, 2025September 13, 2025 MichaelStephenWills23 Comments

Colored lights of our skies are lifelong triggers for the imagination. On any moonless, crystal night—far from the town-glow—three thousand or so stars and the wandering planets scatter across the dark. We read them instinctively, stitching patterns the way our ancestors did, turning a brilliant chaos into stories. Along the ecliptic, twelve of those patterns became the constellations, a starry calendar by which careful observers told the seasons. When Cancer, the Crab rides high, winter has the northern hemisphere in its grip

Click Photograph for my OnLine Galleries — Click photograph for my OnLine Galleries. Clicking the other photographs in this post will yield a larger image.

On the night of January 20–21, 2019, a full moon climbed from the horizon and slid into Earth’s shadow, transforming a familiar face into a copper coin. As it rose, that low-horizon “larger” moon—an illusion born of context—felt close enough to pocket. Hours later, the moon darkened to a dull copper color and appeared to float amid Cancer’s dim stars.

I set up a Canon DSLR on a tripod with a 24mm f/1.4 lens, pushed the ISO to 3200, and shortened the exposure to 1.3 seconds—a compromise between freezing star points and preserving the feel of the sky. The moon, of course, was overexposed in that wide frame; later, I overlaid a correctly exposed moon (from a telephoto shot later in the night) at its true apparent size to match the scene as the eye saw it. Is it the most “technical” astrophotograph of the eclipse? No. But it is faithful to the moment I witnessed and good enough to carry the story forward.

The Moon on the Crab’s back

Cancer is never an easy connect-the-dots. Its stars are modest, more suggestion than signature. Look just to the side of the moon’s position that night and you come to Delta Cancri, the orange giant nicknamed the Southern Donkey. Draw a mental line down and slightly right to the faint pair Nu and Gamma Cancri—white stars that only masquerade as twins. They are not physically bound, merely near each other by line of sight: Nu about 390 light-years away, Gamma at 181. Scatter in Alpha and Beta off the Crab’s back and the outline becomes more plausible, the way a minimal sketch becomes a creature once the eye knows what to look for.

The Beehive

Between Nu and Gamma, edged closer to the moon, lies the real prize: the Beehive Cluster—also known as Praesepe or M44. Even with modest binoculars, Praesepe explodes into a field of delicate sparks, a thousand stars loosely wrapped into a hive. Galileo famously turned his early telescope on this cloud and teased forty separate points from the mist; modern optics reveal a populous neighborhood of stellar siblings in shades from ice-blue to ember-red. It is one of those sights that converts a casual sky-gazer into a repeat offender.

Click for more information about this view

Click photograph for a higher resolution version — Total Lunar Eclipse and Surrounding Sky with labels for primary element of the Cancer constellation

Later in the night I lifted the telephoto—70–300mm at 300mm, ISO 3200, 3.2 seconds—and let the moon fill more of the frame. At totality, the light thinned to a clay-jar red as Earth’s atmosphere bent sunlight around the planet and into its shadow. The effect is both simple and profound: every sunset on Earth happening at once, projected onto the moon’s face. Craters and maria softened into relief, and the globe stopped being a flat disk and became a round, ancient body again. Even without Delta, Gamma, Nu, and the Beehive in that tighter field, the sense of placement remained; I knew the Crab’s back was there in the dark, and that the moon had joined it—just for an hour—as a guest at the manger.

Click photograph for a higher resolution image — “Beehive” with Total Lunar Eclipse with labels for primary elements of Cancer Constellation

The Total Eclipse

What I love most about an eclipse is its pace. Nothing is impatient: the bite appears, the light drains, the color warms, and the world around you changes temperament. As the bright glare wanes, neighborhood sounds recalibrate—the hush between footfalls, the small click of a door, even the steadying breath you didn’t know you were holding. A total lunar eclipse is an astronomy lesson that behaves like a poem; it teaches by arranging time and light until awe and understanding meet.

And then, quietly, it returns what it borrowed. A thin wedge of white blooms at one edge, a rehearsal for dawn. Copper gives way to pearl, and the old moon looks new again, just higher and smaller against the deepening night. Cancer recedes into suggestion; Praesepe goes back to being a faint cloud to the unaided eye. The camera is packed away, the tripod shoulders its own shadow, and you keep the best exposure of the night where it can’t be corrupted: in memory.

If you have binoculars, mark Cancer on a winter chart and step outside when the sky is clear. Find Delta, sweep toward the dim pair of Nu and Gamma, and then rest your gaze on that hazy patch between them. Bring a friend into the circle and let the cluster resolve, star by star, into something alive with depth. It will not be the last time you look for it. And if you’re lucky enough, as we were that January, the moon will pass nearby, reminding you that even the most familiar companion can be made strange and beautiful by the turn of a shadow.

The sky is a storybook, yes—but also an instrument. Nights like this tune both.

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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Blood Moon Reflections: Science, Illusion, and Shared Awe Under the Lunar Eclipse

We gather on the balcony as a total lunar eclipse turns the moon to copper—science, illusion, and shared wonder braid a night of luminous change.

September 9, 2025September 8, 2025 MichaelStephenWills31 Comments

Moonrise

On certain evenings we gather on our Cocoa Beach, Florida east-facing beach-side balcony simply to watch the day undo itself—sunset staining the western sky while, behind us, something quieter begins. On Sunday, January 20, 2019, the quiet had a name: a total lunar eclipse. I’d checked the online charts earlier—moonrise time, azimuth, the patient geometry of the heavens laid out in numbers—and set our chairs faced the anticipated spectacle.

The light went a little pewter, as it does when the sun slides offstage and the world inhales. Out on the water a cruise ship shouldered south, a floating city of windows that, under ordinary sunsets, catch fire pane by pane. I looked up too late for the blaze and felt that small pang one gets for the thing almost seen. Still, the ship kept gliding, a bright punctuation mark traveling our skyline.

Then the moon appeared—first as a bruise-colored coin pressed against a bank of cloud, then as itself, pale and whole, rising as if pulled on a cord. Photographs can play a trick here: place a ship under a full moon and, with the right lens, the vessel swells to improbable grandeur while the moon looks like a modest ornament. Our eyes know better. The ship is huge but near; the moon is unimaginably larger, only far. Distance humbles everything.

It’s a fine parlor truth that every lunar eclipse requires a full moon. There’s a steadiness in that—that the earth, playing the rare importance of middle child, can only cast its shadow when the moon has come fully into its own. The reverse, of course, is not guaranteed. Most full moons rise and go about their business, silvering roofs and quieting dogs, without ever tasting the earth’s shadow. Tonight would be different.

The Riddle of Size

Before the darkness advanced, the old riddle of size made its entrance. Low on the horizon, the moon seemed suddenly intimate, big enough to pocket the ship and still have room for the lighthouse. We call it an illusion, but the word hardly captures the tenderness of it: how the mind, seeing that round face near our familiar trees and eaves, feels the moon to be part of our belongings. Angular diameter stays stubbornly constant; affection does not. The experiment is easy enough—choose a pebble that covers the low moon at arm’s length, then try again when the moon is high. The same pebble hides it perfectly. What changes is not the moon, but the story our senses tell.

Clouds raveled and the disk lifted, gathering brightness. As the earth’s umbra slid across that worn, luminous stone, the color shifted from pearl to rust, then to the old red of clay amphorae. People love the names—Super, Wolf, Blood—as if the moon had stepped onto a carnival midway. I prefer the quieter facts: sun, earth, moon aligned; light refracted through air; the planet itself briefly confessed in velvet shadow. It felt less like spectacle than like a family resemblance revealed by candlelight.

Eclipse

Much later, around us, the little neighborhood chorus noticed. A conversation stalled mid-sentence; the unspooled hush you hear at a concert just before the bow draws its first note came and settled on the patio. Even the ocean seemed to restrain itself, waves taking smaller breaths. The cruise ship had long since slid behind the curvature of our seeing.

We kept watching. A lunar eclipse is an exercise in patience: everything happens slowly enough to be felt, quickly enough to refuse boredom. Shadows are honest about their edges. When the moon wore its deepest copper, I thought of ancient nights and imaginations unlit by anything but fire, how dependable cycles must have seemed like messages and how—standing there, spine pricked by a familiar old awe—I could not entirely disagree. It was not fear, but kinship: the sense that we are included in the machinery, not merely spectators.

When the light returned, it did so from one margin, like dawn rehearsed on a smaller stage. The coin brightened by degrees, and the old face we know reappeared—craters and mares soft as thumbprints. The illusion of size faded as the moon climbed, and the experiment with the pebble proved itself yet again. Even so, I felt the tug of that earlier enchantment, the way a child misses a dream just after waking. The mind keeps two ledgers: one for what is measured, one for what is felt. Tonight both were full.

Eventually we retired. Chairs nested. Doors clicked. In the kitchen, glasses chimed in the sink. But the moon kept on, white and durable, its borrowed light restored. Somewhere out there the ship’s passengers drifted to their cabins, stories in their pockets about the night the world itself cast a shadow, and how the ocean looked briefly like copper under a patient star.

Later, when I wrote down the times and the few facts I could trust to memory, I realized the real record was not the measurements but the company: our leaning back, the shared breath, the soft astonishment that comes when something vast moves at a human pace. The eclipse ended; the evening did not. That, too, felt like a kind of alignment—ours with one another, our small chairs with a very large sky.

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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Behind the Scenes of the Final Frontier: Our Tour with NASA’s “Launch Director” – 6

Step behind the scenes of space exploration with this dive into the awe-inspiring details of the Space Shuttle Atlantis, its thermal-protected wings to the onboard engines.

March 31, 2024March 25, 2024 MichaelStephenWills10 Comments

Imagine, if you will, stepping onto the grounds of NASA, where the air buzzes with the legacy of space exploration and the spirit of human achievement. It’s a place where dreams of the cosmos turn into reality. Our 2017 Launch Director tour not only brought us face-to-face with the marvels of space travel but allowed me to delve into the intricate details of one of NASA’s most iconic spacecraft: the Space Shuttle Atlantis. In this episode 6 of our adventure, we continue exploring the engineering marvel that is Atlantis, focusing on its wings, rear stabilizer, and onboard engines—elements critical to its legendary missions.

The Space Shuttle Atlantis, a name synonymous with discovery and exploration, represents a pinnacle of human ingenuity. As you walk around the Atlantis exhibit, you can’t help but be awed by the shuttle’s design, particularly its wings. The wings of Atlantis, with a wingspan of about 78 feet, are not just structures of metal and composite materials; they are the shuttle’s lifeline during re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere. These delta-shaped wings are designed to withstand the scorching temperatures of re-entry, allowing Atlantis to glide back to Earth with grace and precision. The material covering the wings, known as the Thermal Protection System (TPS), consists of thousands of heat-resistant tiles and reinforced carbon-carbon panels, safeguarding the shuttle and its crew from temperatures exceeding 1,650 degrees Celsius.

As your gaze shifts towards the rear of Atlantis, the vertical tail fin, or the rear stabilizer, commands attention. Standing about 17 feet tall, this stabilizer is more than just a rudder; it’s a critical component for maintaining the shuttle’s stability during the different phases of its mission. During the launch, it helps keep the shuttle on course as it ascends through the atmosphere. In space, it plays a minimal role, but upon re-entry, it becomes vital again, ensuring the shuttle remains stable and oriented correctly as it descends through the atmosphere, allowing for a safe landing.

In this exploration of Atlantis, after the wings and stabilizer, we encounter the heart of the shuttle’s propulsion system: its onboard engines. The Space Shuttle Main Engines (SSMEs), three in total, are marvels of engineering, capable of producing a combined thrust of over 1.2 million pounds. These liquid-fueled engines play a crucial role in propelling the shuttle from the launch pad into orbit. What’s fascinating is their ability to throttle up or down depending on the phase of the launch, providing the precise amount of power needed at any given moment. The engines are fed by the External Tank, the only part of the shuttle not reused, which carries the liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen needed for combustion. Upon reaching orbit, the Orbital Maneuvering System (OMS) engines take over, allowing Atlantis to navigate the vacuum of space with finesse, adjusting its orbit and facilitating the meticulous maneuvers required for satellite deployment or docking with the International Space Station.

Walking away from the Atlantis exhibit, what stays with you is not just the sight of this magnificent spacecraft but an appreciation for the ingenuity and dedication that went into its design. Every wing, every tile on the stabilizer, and every roar from the engines tell a story of human curiosity, the drive to explore beyond our confines, and the relentless pursuit of knowledge. The Space Shuttle Atlantis is more than a machine; it’s a symbol of what humanity can achieve when we dare to dream big and work tirelessly towards those dreams. So, as you look up at the night sky, remember the wings that carried our dreams, the stabilizer that kept us on course, and the engines that propelled us into the unknown, reminding us that the final frontier is not so final after all.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Behind the Scenes of the Final Frontier: Our Tour with NASA’s “Launch Director” – 5

Ever wondered about the iconic robotic arms that gracefully danced in space, tethered to the Space Shuttle? Meet Canadarm, a marvel of engineering that transformed space missions. Born from a NASA invitation to Canada in 1969, this robotic arm did more than just move payloads; it became a symbol of international collaboration in space exploration. After the Columbia disaster, its role expanded, ensuring the safety of astronauts with critical inspections. Dive into the captivating journey of Canadarm, where technology meets the stars. Click to discover how a Canadian innovation became a pivotal part of space history.

March 23, 2024March 15, 2024 MichaelStephenWills11 Comments

The Canadarm

The Canadarm, or Canadarm1, officially known as the Shuttle Remote Manipulator System (SRMS) and sometimes referred to as the SSRMS, represents a series of robotic arms utilized aboard the Space Shuttle orbiters. These arms were instrumental in deploying, manipulating, and retrieving payloads. Following the tragic Space Shuttle Columbia disaster, the use of Canadarm became invariably linked with the Orbiter Boom Sensor System (OBSS). The OBSS played a crucial role in examining the shuttle’s exterior for any damages to its thermal protection system, enhancing the safety of subsequent missions.

The genesis of Canada’s involvement in the Space Shuttle program dates back to 1969 when the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) extended an invitation to Canada. At the outset, the specifics of Canada’s role were unclear, though the need for a manipulator system was immediately recognized as vital. The Canadian firm DSMA ATCON had previously made strides in robotics with the development of a robot designed to load fuel into CANDU nuclear reactors, capturing NASA’s interest. By 1975, a formal agreement was reached between NASA and the Canadian National Research Council (NRC), under which Canada would undertake the development and construction of the Canadarm.

The NRC subsequently awarded the contract for the manipulator to Spar Aerospace (currently known as MDA), under which three distinct systems were to be developed: an engineering model to aid in design and testing, a qualification model for environmental testing to ensure the design’s suitability for space, and a flight unit destined for use in missions. This collaborative effort marked a significant milestone in the use of robotics in space exploration, showcasing international cooperation in advancing space technology.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Post WWII Launch Complexes on Cape Canaveral

Ghosts from the future?

March 22, 2024March 14, 2024 MichaelStephenWills12 Comments

Here is the fifth in a series of photographs centered on the early history of space flight on Cape Canaveral mostly taken during a tour organized by the Cape Canaveral Lighthouse Foundation. “Google” the foundation for details of future tours. Here we explore the sites of the first launches on the Cape, Launch Complexes 1, 2, 3, 4. (LC 1 – 4).

From Vengeance To Space

Our bus proceeded east on Lighthouse Road past Launch Complexes 21 and 22 in less than half a mile we were within the first sites of the United States Space age, sites with the lowest numbers, LC 1 – 4.

Click Any Image for a larger viewe

If, instead of distance, the bus traveled back in time 68 years to July, 1950 we would be witness to the first United States space launch of the two-stage “Bumper 8”, a former “V2” missile topped by a WAC Corporal that reached 248 miles above the earth, about where the International Space Station circles now.

July 1950 Bumper 8 Launch
By NASA/U.S. Army – NIX 66P-0631, GPN-2000-000613; http://solarsystem.nasa.gov/multimedia/display.cfm?IM_ID=385, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2892820

Almost certainly, the man who designed and directed the production of the Nazi V2, Werner vonBraun, was perched on the lighthouse a half-mile distant.

Cape Canaveral Lighthouse from Launch Complex 3

The Nazi “vengeance weapon 2”, the V2, a device so horrifying British authorities claimed the first V2 attacks to be “gas explosions” rather than admit a Nazi weapon descended without warning. Beginning September, 1944, over 3,000 V2’s landed on London, Antwerp and Liège resulting in an estimated 9,000 deaths, mostly civilians. 12,000 forced labor and concentration camp slaves died in the construction of the production facilities captured by the Soviet Union during the collapse of the Nazis. These victims, arms linked, will form a circle 15.9 miles in circumference around the Bumper 2 launch.

The 21,000 V2 victims, linked arm in arm, make a circle 15.9 miles in circumference.

von Braun and key V2 personnel surrendered to the Americans and, along with enough parts to construct 80 V2s, were taken to the United States. His direction of US missile development lead eventually to the enormous Saturn rocket that lifted three men to the moon, so good came from our bet on vonBraun and the V2.

Observation Bunker

In January, 2018, firmly in the present, our bus approached these now “deactivated” sites driving down Lighthouse Road. Confined to the bus, I used my Canon EOS 1Ds Mark III and the EF 70-300mm f/4-5.6 IS USM lens to capture these scenes.

Observation Bunker from Launch Complex 3, looking across Launch Complex 1.

I can almost see someone behind the glass, enjoying a blast of air-conditioned air, dry and cool.

Litter on and around Launch Complex 4

Aerostat

From 1950 into the 1960’s LC 1-4 saw launches of cruise missiles, some of which were able to maneuver and land on the “skid strip” you can pick out on the “21,000 V2 Victims” image, above. A positive discovery from my research on wikipedia the weapon systems tested here were not fired in anger. Continued development in other places lead to production of generations of cruise missiles launched by Presidents Clinton and Bush against Afghanistan, Iraq and (??) other targets. What victim ghosts, arms linked in ever growing circles, are lurking in our future?

A building on LC 4 has the designation “Aerostat”, one of the last projects supported. I saw an aerostat in action in the early 2000’s over Fort Huachuca, Arizona near the border with Mexico. An aerostat is a flying craft that does not rely on moving air to achieve lift, balloons for example.

The Goodyear blimp is a memory from my childhood on Long Island, the Fort Huachuca aerostat was a smaller version, outfitted with advanced technology for monitoring the surrounding environment. “Google” aerostat mexican border to learn more about the current deployment.

Another view of the abandoned aerostat building on LC 4

With the development of Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles (ICBMs) the facilities of LC 1 – 4 became obsolete. ICBMs are a theme of the next installment of this series.

ClickMe for another post in this series, “Mercury 7 Pre-Launch Facilities.”

ClickMe for the first post in this series, “Cape Canaveral Lighthouse.”

Sources of information for this post: I used information from the Wikipedia site for the key words V-2, Launch Complex 1, Launch Complex 2, Launch Complex 3, Launch Complex 4. The Bumper 8 launch photograph caption includes a source citation.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved.

Cruise Missiles

Decoys and Cruise Control

March 21, 2024March 14, 2024 MichaelStephenWills17 Comments

Here is the fourth in a series of photographs centered on the early history of space flight on Cape Canaveral mostly taken during a tour organized by the Cape Canaveral Lighthouse Foundation. Google the foundation for details of future tours. Here we explore the sites closests to the Lighthouse: Launch Complex 21 and 22.

“Vengance Weapons” re-purposed

Vergeltungswaffe 1 (Vengance Weapon 1 AKA V-1), produced at Peenemünde on the Baltic Sea was first used against Great Britan by Germany one week after the D-day landings. 8,025 of these flying bombs, the first cruise missles, caused the death of 22,892 people, mostly civilians. The first cruise missles for the USA were developed less than 1,000 feet away from the lighthouse. After touring the lighthouse we boarded the bus to visit these sites, Launch Complex 21 and 22.

Click Any Image for a larger viewe

Launch Complex 21 and 22 are marked with a labled “pin” on this image from Google Earth.

Nature abounds in Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. This ibis hunted near the lighthouse on our way to Launch Complexes 21,22.

We passed close to the blockhouse first viewed in my post, “Lighthouse and Rockets,” and I captured this detail of the long abandoned structure. The last test launch of a Mace missle was June, 1960.

This wreckage photograph was part of my,“Lighthouse and Rockets” post. It was taken from a lighthouse portal. It is a type of cruise missle, although I cannot identify the exact type, comparing the engine, on the right, with available photographs of the “Bull Goose” and “Mace” missles developed here.

Bull Goose and Mace

Rail launched, as was the German V-1, the missles developed here were called “Bull Goose” and “Mace.” Bull Goose was a delta winged craft intended as a decoy, to appear on radar as a strategic bomber during a nuclear attack. At that time, the rails were in the open. The building here was a revampment of the site for development of the Mace. The other side of this structure is open, the launch rail pointed up from the rear. There are two launch rails, numbered 1 and 2. The building placard is “05961,” the numeral “1” designates site 1. The use of numbers of designate a site is unusual. Letters are used elsewhere on Cape Canaveral and Kennedy Space Center.

The powerful rocket exhause was directed though these pipes. Site 1 is on the right.

Guidance or “Cruise Control”

Navigation is a crucial requirement for cruise missles. The Bull Goose used a gyroscope with no reference to surroundings. The guidance system held the launch bearings, a successful flight was completed within 115 nautical miles of the target.

If deployed, the plan was for thousands of these missles to launch 1 hour before the attack craft set out and 1 hour after. The missles were not armed, but would descend in the thousands around the targets. Similar to what the Germans did to civilians in England.

After three years and 136.5 million dollars the Bull Goose was cancelled because it could not simulate either the B-47 Stratojet or B-52 Stratofortress nuclear bomb delivery aircraft. Not a single decoy was fired in anger.

The building sign “05912” identifies this exhaust tube as being launch site 2.

The Mace, for which this building was created, used a guidance ATRAN (Automatic Terrain Recognition And Navigation, a radar map-matching system). The map was produced on a 35 mm film strip carried on the missle, the live radar returns were “matched” against the film with course correction made for differences. The Mace was of limited usefulness due to the lack of radar maps for target areas within the Soviet Union. The Mace was deployed to Germany and South Korea until phase out in 1969.

ClickMe for the first post in this series, “Cape Canaveral Lighthouse.”

Sources of information for this post: I used information from the Wikipedia site for the key words V-1, Launch Complex 21, Launch Complex 22, Mace, Bull Goose.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved.

Lighthouse and Rockets

from Roman Numerals to Rockets

March 20, 2024March 22, 2024 MichaelStephenWills10 Comments

Here is the third in a series of photographs centered on the early history of space flight on Cape Canaveral mostly taken during a tour organized by the Cape Canaveral Lighthouse Foundation. Google the foundation for details of future tours. Here we start with Roman Numerals and end with Rocket Research.

Inscribed Roman Numerals

We were lucky to be on this tour, for a period of time the Air Force closed off the Lighthouse. The Lighthouse Foundation obtained permission to start this tour in 2016 (this was January 2018) and I happened to discover it while poking around in preparation for the SpaceX “Falcon Heavy” launch in early February 2018.

As Pam and I climbed, each floor docent (volunteer guide) was so helpful with information and hospitality. At the last floor, the stairway to the upper floors was roped off. Top levels were closed, Cape Canaveral Lighthouse is operational. Here is a photograph of the closed off staircase. There is a roman numeral “6” (VI) inscribed in the staircase column. This is the numbering system described in the first post, “Cape Canaveral Lighthouse,” by which the entire 151-foot lighthouse can be disassembled/reassembled as was done in the 19th century.

The fine finish of the handrail termination for the stairs to upper floors is an example of 19th century attention to detail.

Macro of numeral inscription on a lower floor stairway column.

*Roman Numeral 43 on staircase column of lower floor*

View of Space History from the Portals

The lower staircase support column was much wider with space for illustrations and displays. Here is a reproduction of a watercolor of the lighthouse from the earliest days of rocketry on the cape. The lighthouse keeper, assistant and their families lived alongside the tower. The housing was later razed. The Lighthouse Foundation is raising money to build reproductions of the housing.

I put my copyright on the photograph to control copying. The copyright does NOT refer to the artwork.

The painting is an accurate representation of the tower. The dark spots are the windows, or portals, captured in my last post, “Lighthouse Details.” Every portal offered a view of historical or current rocketry. In the following photograph, beyond the outbuilding, is a blockhouse, protection for the early rocket scientists, now abandoned. The structure services launch complex 21 and 22. More in a later post.

Wreckage with Recollections of Werner von Braun

Depending on your viewpoint, the landscape around the tower is either littered with or graced by relics such as the wreckage in the following photograph.

As we stood on the exterior staircase, looking toward the building in the following photograph, the docent told a story of Werner von Braun, how he loved to smoke cigarettes and watch rocket tests from the top of the lighthouse. After some spectacular failures, for reasons of personal safety he was excluded from the tower. His office during the development of the Minute Man and Persing missiles was in this building.

*Building next to the lighthouse where Werner VonBraun had an office during the early days of USA rocket research.*

This view overlooks the former sites of Minute Man and Persing rocket development. Beyond the launch towers is Port Cape Canaveral, visible to the right are large cruise ships.

*Viewed from the Cape Canaveral lighthouse, the port i is in the distance with cruise ships.*

Looking from portals facing northeast is this view across ICBM road and its many launch sites. We will visit these in a future post.

*Viewed from the Cape Canaveral lighthouse, these are active launch sites.*

ClickMe for the first post in this series, “Cape Canaveral Lighthouse.”

Behind the Scenes of the Final Frontier: Our Tour with NASA’s “Launch Director” – 4

Imagine yourself floating in the vast cargo bay of the Space Shuttle Atlantis, surrounded by the essentials of space exploration. Here, in this dynamic space, the dreams of astronauts and scientists converge, where each mission reshapes our understanding of the universe. Curious? Discover more inside.

March 19, 2024March 14, 2024 MichaelStephenWills7 Comments

Atlantis Cargo Bay

The cargo bay of the Space Shuttle Atlantis was an extensive, empty compartment located at the shuttle’s aft end, acting as the main storage area for mission payloads. A significant portion of the cargo was housed within a sizable cylindrical module named Raffaello, which contained a year’s supply of necessities—food, clothing, water, replacement parts, and scientific gear.

The dimensions of the payload area were roughly 4.6 meters (15 feet) in width and 18 meters (60 feet) in length. This spacious area enabled the shuttle to transport a diverse array of payloads, ranging from satellites to complex scientific experiments.

Exploring the Cargo Bay

Envision yourself drifting through the cargo bay of Atlantis, encircled by a maze of wires, equipment, and neatly arranged payloads. Astronauts, tethered securely and clad in their voluminous space suits, would navigate this area, ensuring the payloads were fastened correctly for either launch or retrieval operations.

The cargo bay’s configuration was highly adaptable, tailored to meet the specific needs of each mission. It played a pivotal role in the deployment of satellites, execution of repairs, or the transportation of scientific apparatus, adapting its setup as necessary.

The Hubble Servicing Mission

One of the most notable missions involving Atlantis was the Hubble Space Telescope Servicing Mission 4 (SM4). For this mission, Atlantis was loaded with essential items for the Hubble, including new instruments, batteries, and gyroscopes, all carefully organized within the cargo bay for safe transport to and into orbit.

Legacy

The cargo bay of Atlantis bore witness to a myriad of significant events: the release of satellites, the construction of the International Space Station, and numerous scientific investigations. Its design and flexibility were instrumental to the Space Shuttle program’s achievements.

Sea Turtle Portrait

March 15, 2024March 16, 2024 MichaelStephenWills5 Comments

Portrait of a Sea Turtle with fish, sea floor and a rocket launch. 541 Washington Ave, Cape Canaveral, FL 32920 Near Cheri Down Park, Brevard County, Florida

Along the bottom margin is the artist’s signature, “David Roth 2022.”

Behind the Scenes of the Final Frontier: Our Tour with NASA’s “Launch Director” – 3

Step beyond Earth’s bounds and glimpse the astounding intricacies of the Space Shuttle’s journey. Discover the engineering marvels that propelled humanity into orbit and back, navigating the cosmos with precision. Unveil the secrets of the stars now.

March 14, 2024March 15, 2024 MichaelStephenWills3 Comments

The Space Shuttle, officially known as the Space Transportation System (STS), was an iconic spacecraft operated by NASA from 1981 to 2011. It consisted of an orbiter with wings for landing like an airplane, external fuel tanks, and solid rocket boosters. With its multiple missions ranging from satellite deployment to the construction of the International Space Station, the Space Shuttle was a symbol of human ingenuity in space exploration. Central to the Shuttle’s success was its navigational system, which combined state-of-the-art technology of its time with human expertise.

The navigation of the Space Shuttle was a complex orchestration involving both internal and external elements designed to work in the harsh environment of space. The photographs attached illustrate some of the external navigational elements.

External Navigational Elements

The external surface of the Space Shuttle, as seen in the following images, was covered with thousands of thermal protection system tiles. These tiles were crucial not only for protecting the Shuttle from the extreme temperatures experienced during re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere but also housed the critical sensors for navigation.

One of the key external navigational features was the Reaction Control System (RCS), seen as clusters of small circular ports below the cockpit windows. The RCS was composed of small thrusters that could fire in short bursts to adjust the Shuttle’s orientation or speed in space. This system was vital during the maneuvers in orbit, such as satellite deployment, docking with the International Space Station, and repositioning for re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere.

Internal Navigational Elements

Internally, the Space Shuttle featured a complex avionics system. The following image depicts part of the orbiter’s internal structure with an array of docking mechanisms and sensor housings. The round port, surrounded by a ring of bolts, is likely an interface for the Orbiter Docking System, used for rendezvous and docking with the International Space Station.

The following image shows a close-up of one of the orbiter’s windows, surrounded by reinforced panels. Each window was crucial for manual navigation, allowing astronauts to visually confirm their orientation and position relative to celestial objects and the Earth. The windows were also essential during landing, which was conducted manually by the Shuttle’s commander.

Navigational Avionics

The Shuttle’s navigation was supported by an avionics system that included inertial measurement units (IMUs), star trackers, and various other sensors. IMUs tracked the Shuttle’s position by measuring its velocity and direction, while star trackers used sightings of known star patterns to calibrate the Shuttle’s orientation in the vastness of space.

The navigational computers onboard processed data from these systems to maintain the trajectory and manage the Shuttle’s multiple systems. The computers were capable of autonomous operation, although astronauts were trained to take over manually if necessary.

Ground Support and Telemetry

In addition to onboard systems, navigation relied heavily on ground-based tracking and data relay satellites. The Shuttle communicated with NASA’s Mission Control Center, which monitored its position and trajectory, providing updates and corrections as needed. Telemetry data sent back to Earth included velocity, altitude, and engine performance metrics, which were crucial for ensuring the Shuttle’s safe passage in and out of orbit.

In Summary

The Space Shuttle’s navigational capabilities were a testament to the integration of technology and human skill. From the RCS ports on its tiled exterior to the sophisticated avionics inside, every component played a critical role in the Shuttle’s missions. This harmonious blend of internal mechanisms and external sensors, complemented by vigilant ground support, enabled the Space Shuttle to navigate the cosmos and return safely home, mission after mission.