Triumph, Tragedy, and Triumph

A Voyager 2/Uranus Encounter Diary: January 22-29, 1986

by Michelle Evans

PHOTO LINK: "Voyager 2 Portfolio"

Prologue: August, 1981

As quickly as Voyager 2 swept through the Saturnian system, rumors swept the press room at JPL that this might be the last stop for Voyager. Government cutbacks might force the money required to keep the project running through the end of the decade to be siphoned off from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. This would mean no data or images sent back from Uranus and Neptune in 1986 and 1989. Although the science return at Saturn is spectacular, many politicians do not agreed it would be worth the expenditure to continue. But Voyager is not the only program affected; the American probe to Halley's Comet is getting rejected for the final time, and every other new planetary program proposition is stillborn. Even the ambitious Galileo-Jupiter mission looks like it will die, even though most of the development costs are already spent.

Voyager 2/Uranus Encounter Diary

Wednesday, January 22nd, 1986

5:42 am – Interstate-5 northbound is still light with traffic. I feel alone on the road, and I love it. It gives me time to reflect and anticipate.

The lean times for the planetary exploration programs seem to be coming to an end. Voyager is assured a future through its Uranus and Neptune encounters, while several new projects wait in the wings for final approvals. After a long and sometimes bitter fight, Galileo is finally ready to fly. The entire space program, which seemed to be just squeaking by, is now more upbeat and assured. Space Shuttle flights are a monthly occurrence, with that rate steadily increasing to keep up with the heavy demand. In fact, the next flight is scheduled for this weekend, right in the middle of the Uranus encounter period.

But now it is time for Voyager 2 to take the spotlight. One of two identical spacecraft launched nearly nine years ago, this exploratory workhorse continues to operate in the face of several near-disastrous malfunctions, and for several years longer than its planned life expectancy.

From 1979 though 1981, the two spacecraft had followed up several hundred years of ground-based research of Jupiter and Saturn with startling results. So much that had been previously "known" about these planets and their moons was thrown out. Volcanos erupted across the sulfur-covered surface of Io, a ring was found orbiting around Jupiter and its surrealistic clouds, spokes of dark material were seen to levitate above the intricate structure of the Saturnian rings — possibly held there by massive electrical discharges between ring particles thousands of times more powerful than terrestrial lightning!

Voyager 1 completed its encounter with Saturn and then headed out of the solar system. Voyager 2 now has the sole job of providing preliminary reconnaissance on two planets, Uranus and Neptune, for which there is very little to be seen from our Earthly vantage point. Our knowledge is so sparse that, as of this morning, no one knows for sure how long a day is on these planets. In less than a week, that is at least one question that will finally be answered for Uranus.

7:24 am – I just pulled into the parking lot at JPL here in Pasadena, California. The Sun was supposed to be up about an hour ago, but I'm still waiting to see it. Everything is blanketed with a heavy fog. Personally, I think it's a beautiful morning.

The first press briefing is scheduled for 10:00 am, so it's time to get checked in, accredited, and organized.

9:39 am – The press room here at the von Karman auditorium is filling up rapidly now. I was the first of the press in this morning, so I got my pick of the seats. I figure that sixth row center should give the best view of everything.

The most notable aspect of the press representatives here is that there appear to be more foreign correspondents than American. It reminds me of the coverage I saw at the first Space Shuttle landing. I think a lot of Americans don't realize what they have here. The great desire to produce something better has traditionally been tied to killing our enemy more efficiently. All that changed with space; for the first time, everyone benefits from our advances. I wish that the rest of the American public would realize what a fantastic accomplishment their scientists and engineers have brought about.

The JPL Public Relations people are running around everywhere getting cameras, lights, microphones, and podiums set up on time for a 10 o'clock start. If there's one thing to be said about the people at JPL, and the rest of the space program for that matter, when they tell you something is supposed to happen at a certain time, you can bet your Swiss movements that it will.

11:37 am – The last hour-and-a-half showed us all a group of very excited and eager scientists. Their years of coming up with untestable theories about Uranus are about to come to an end, to be replaced by provable facts. They are a bunch of kids finally receiving their long awaited Christmas present, and they are certainly going to have a ball unwrapping it over the next several days. Even then, everything is not cut-and-dried. The facts will be there, but some answers will remain enigmatic and may take months, or even years, to uncover. Many of these people are still pouring over the multitude of data sent back from Jupiter and Saturn. Some answers will not be found until a return spacecraft can be flown. When Ed Stone, the Project Scientist for Voyager, was asked what he expected the biggest discovery from the flyby would be, his answer was, "In the next seven days, we will have answers to many questions that today we are not smart enough to ask."

Thursday, January 23rd, 1986

10:00 am – Encounters at previous planets spanned several days due to the fact that we approached the orbits of the outer satellites first and then flew by the planet later. Here, everything happens within a few short hours since Uranus is tilted more than 90 degrees on its axis. This means that we'll zip through the system like a dart through a bull's eye. The planet rolls around the Sun like a barrel instead of like a top, as do the other planets of the solar system. Right now, we are sailing directly at the Uranian south pole, whereas at any other planet we would be seeing the equator. One explanation for this unusual alignment is that a cataclysmic collision with another body caused it to topple when the planet was still forming.

We've just been informed that the close encounter time has been revised slightly. This puts the timing off by about a minute-and-a-half from what was planned almost five years ago. Not too shabby, these planetary scientists! The resolution of the images is improving rapidly; unfortunately, there is little cloud detail to see due to the low lighting from the distant Sun. To further complicate matters, the extremely cold temperature out here would drive the individual clouds deeper into the atmosphere and under a planet-wide haze layer. However, we've had a small victory; the first clearly-defined cloud ever seen in the atmosphere was tracked through several photographs on January 14th. Though not directly related to the rotation period of the planet because of wind effects in the atmosphere, the cloud will give us a general idea of the length of the Uranian day.

11:35 am – The press conference is over, and many of the press people now head for the telephones and typewriters. Others grab their notepads and tape recorders and dash for the front of the auditorium to pose more detailed questions to the scientists.

7:50 pm – A touch over 14 hours until closest approach. A series of images are coming in from Uranus right now. 2 hours and 45 minutes ago, a filter snapped into place, and the shutter over the wide-angle camera lens clicked open and stayed that way for 15 seconds. The spacecraft slewed to track the planet, holding the image steady in the dim light. Then it clicked closed, starting the electronic digitizing sequence to relay the image back to Earth. It's here now; the image surrounds us on monitors spread throughout the press center at the Von Karman auditorium. A new planet draws ever nearer for us. Never before will there be a first time for this image. Uranus is now a planet, not just a speck of blue-green light.

In one corner, a dark-haired, mustachioed man picks up a 35mm camera, then pulls back an old-time photographer's hood connected to a miniature monitor and ducks his head underneath. He focuses and clicks. Another image is captured. To my right, a young artist from the Netherlands unsnaps the lid of a black felt marker and expertly creates a bold, wide border around what quickly becomes another in a series of "Voyager funnies:" a scientist appears from the end of his pen, explaining at a press conference that the Uranian system has a distinct lack of vivid colors. "So that's why we suggest a new name: 'uGRAYness.'"

Friday, January 24th, 1986

7:30 am – It's encounter morning. First thing in is supposed to be high-resolution images of Oberon and Titania. The monitors are on, but nothing is coming through. I hope there are no problems.

8:00 am – The first update of the morning: Voyager is 167,000 miles from the planet traveling at 35,000 mph. The spacecraft has received and acknowledged the encounter sequence into its computer. All is A-OK, but there is no explanation as to why we're not getting the images here in the auditorium. Apparently, the people in the receiving lab just haven't patched us in yet this morning.

8:40 am – Back in the press room after a quick breakfast, everyone is setting up cameras and tape recorders. A very thin man with long, tousled grey hair just walked in. He's carrying his own materials, along with the morning's ration of JPL press releases. His arms are overloaded and it's impossible for him to remove the candy bar dangling from his mouth until he finally dumps the load on a chair in front of me. Soon after, the Science Editor from ABC dropped his briefcase onto a front row seat, staking his claim. The case is covered with insignia stickers from the Space Shuttle launches he's attended. Just for good measure, he takes another sticker from a folder and plasters it to the front: "ABC News." I guess he's taking no chances.

At the back of the room is a large bulletin board. Each morning after the press conference, a new set of photos; the best of the previous day's images are stapled up. What fascinating discoveries will fill that board later this morning and in the future days?

9:59 am – Voyager 2 just passed within 64, 500 miles of the Uranian cloudtops. The press conference starts with a short history of William Herschel: Using a small telescope in his yard in Bath, England, he was the first to discover Uranus in March, 1781. The five previously-known planets, besides Earth, had been known since antiquity, and the idea of a new planet came reluctantly. When Herschel first wrote of the discovery, he classified the object as a comet. His home in Bath, England, is now a museum that has been preserved with the help of British author, astronomer, and commentator, Patrick Moore. I feel a little honored today, since, by lucky chance, I happen to be sitting next to Mr. Moore, watching these proceedings.

Word has recently arrived that the European Space Agency is having difficulties with its Giotto probe to Halley's Comet. The antenna appears not to be pointing directly at Earth, so the signals coming back are weak or non-existent. The ESA has requested the use of one of the Deep Space Network antennas to track down their problem. With the Uranus encounter at its most critical, this is the worst possible time for us to give up our antennae. Luckily, the Goldstone station is free for a short period and the Europeans will get a crack at their problem. We wish them luck (as long as it doesn't interfere with the Voyager data).

The vidicon tube (the Voyager television camera) has a pattern of black dots, called Rousseau marks, that can be used to eliminate any distortion in a transmitted image. Some of the imaging scientists have complained about them being included on Voyager since they have to continually explain that these black dots are not natural features on the topography of a moon or planet. The man who insisted that they be included on the camera is named Mert. They have "officially" renamed these dots, "Mert marks." There is a computer program that was written which eliminates these marks. It used to be known as a Rousseau Removal Program but is now known as a Mert Removal Program. It has been said, with tongue firmly in cheek, that they are afraid to run this program because they will look over at Mert's desk and he will be gone!

7:28 pm – We've been waiting anxiously now for the first high-resolution images of Titania. A set of four photos, through different filters, is scheduled. These will later be combined into a single color frame. The first one is here and I share the excitement with the two men and one woman from a French news agency. We're looking almost directly at the south pole of Titania. Near the limb (which is the equator in this screwy planetary system), a large, wide rift valley is very prominent. Being a part of the newly-formed "Von Karman Imaging Team," I can interpret this as a possible fracture caused by a large impact on the far side of the moon, or tectonic activity resulting from internal heating some time in the far distant past. If only we could keep Voyager around here for another 20 years, until the north pole comes out into the sunlight, we might be able to answer a lot of questions!

8:30 pm – Dr. Bradford Smith will be interviewed live from here for a late-night news special on the fly-by. Also being interviewed from a different part of the country is Dr. Thomas Gold. Brad has been listening in on the cross-continent conversation, trying to place Dr. Gold. It finally comes to him that Dr. Gold is the man that said all lunar astronauts would sink into the thick dust when they landed! "He's the one that NASA had to spend $30 billion to prove wrong," he quips.

Brad keeps glancing at the monitor behind me. The first of the new satellites discovered, 1985U1, is in a favorable position to Voyager. At over 40,000 miles per hour, there is enough time to snap one image of the tiny moon before continuing outward. Brad's watching the monitor between interview questions to see the shot of 1985U1 that's supposed to be here by now. Nothing's shown up yet and he's understandably distraught.

Saturday, January 25th, 1986

10:07 am – Murphy struck last night a little after 8:00 pm. Australia's DSN, a 64-meter (210 foot) antenna, had pointing problems. They lost total tracking control during an eight-minute period, which just happened to coincide with the one and only image to be taken that will show any detail of 1985U1. The one good thing is that this is an image recorded on the Voyager spacecraft and was not sent back real-time. This means that they have until Monday night to replay the image before it will be irretrievably written over. It's a little worrisome, but I have no doubt these people can bring that image home. The whole history of our space program has one instance after another of something going wrong. They have almost always been able to pull the rabbit out of the hat at the last second. One shot of a miniature moon should pose little difficulty.

From across the ocean comes the news from the ESA that Giotto is fine. Their time on our antenna system helped to work out the problem, and everything is healthy for the Halley's Comet encounter in six weeks.

Another new moon and the first new ring have been discovered. The moon is not one of the numerous shepherding satellites they have expected to find keeping the narrow rings in check. The new ring is located between the Epsilon and Delta rings (the two outermost from the planet). It is so faint and narrow that it has shown up in several images previously, but no one could be sure if it was real or simply noise in the signal. Brad Smith shows us the image. "I don't know if you can see it from your position, but I can from here." Everyone laughs at the seeming joke, but Brad is only half kidding. From the side from where he is looking at it, the ring is much more noticeable. After the conference, everybody opens their photo packs and all are seen staring at the edge of the photo instead of at the face. Brad was right.

2:20 pm – The first of a nine-photo mosaic of Miranda has just scanned onto the screen. Everything got quiet as the image quickly built up. Once on the monitor, everyone tried to crowd around. Ten different people had ten different immediate explanations for the features we could see. This mosaic promises to reveal the best detail of any images returned by Voyager since it left Earth. This is the stuff we've all been very anxious to see!

Approximately once every 15 minutes another image appears, slowly building our picture of the innermost, major Uranian satellite. Earlier, low resolution photos revealed a bright feature that looked like a chevron. This instantly starting a rash of jokes about Miranda being the last gas stop before Neptune. Now we can see the close-up detail of that mysterious feature; it is certainly one of the most intriguing ever seen. It seems to be a series of folded parallel ridges. These straight-line ridges traverse the surface for miles, then abruptly zip off at right angles from their previous course. Nearby are sheer cliff walls that look as if the satellite was being slid into two halves. There is nothing to which we can compare this terrain; it is absolutely unique.

This is where the planetary geologists will have to earn their keep — to come up with a theory about what a planet should look like under a certain set of circumstances is comparatively easy when you have only one planet to explain. Now we have an entire solar system of geologically different bodies. Any theory they come up with must fit the evidence on all those worlds.

As an example: weather forecasting, though still the brunt of many jokes, has improved immensely over the last decade. One of the main reasons for this is that theories of weather phenomenon have now been tested on several planets, from the chilly, sand-swept Martian landscape to the Earth-swallowing vortex of the Great Red Spot on Jupiter, which is fundamentally just a scaled-up hurricane. Now these theories will be tested at Uranus, which still has a few surprises in store to keep everyone from becoming too complacent.

9:07 pm– I've noticed a very interesting reaction here to my presence. They see my badge and don't recognize the name so they ask what company I work for. When I tell them I work for a subcontractor with transducers and electronics on board the Voyager, the reaction is usually one of awe or envy. "You mean your equipment is actually out there right now?" Usually people like myself would hold the media in that sort of light; these are worldwide celebrities, in some cases. Yet, my company was one of many that helped make the Voyager a stunning success. To them, we are the celebrities; without the contractors such as ourselves, they would have none of these spectacular findings about our universe to write and talk about. My perspective has changed a bit today.

Some of the foreign news people have it tough. Not only do they have to stay up all day for the press conferences, briefings, and interviews, they may also be required to stay up most of the night to make live reports to their home countries. Catching the mid-morning news in Europe means propping their eyes open until 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning here, and sometimes later. These people are dedicated, and I'm glad I can count myself among their kind.

The Space Shuttle was due for lift-off tomorrow morning but NASA says that the weather doesn't look good. They'll try again on Tuesday morning if it clears up. Voyager keeps the spotlight for another couple of days.

Sunday, January 26th, 1986

8:00 am – Just arrived at the parking lot at the Queen Mary in Long Beach. I'm taking a small hiatus from Voyager to finally accomplish my final pilot interview concerning the X-15. In a half hour I'm supposed to meet Joe Engle in the lounge for a short get together. It's been a long time coming but I'm very excited. Afterward, it's home to Cherie and a much needed rest for a day. Unfortunately, I have the feeling that I won't get all that much rest. I'm too keyed up over everything right now and I wish I didn't have to miss a full day at JPL just to go check in at work tomorrow. This is one day gone from an encounter period that will never come again. I’ll probably stop by there before I swing back home.

5:50 pm – The image of 1985U1 was finally received. It was over 300,000 miles away when the camera caught it on the 24th. Being only 90 miles in diameter, there isn't much there to see, but there is definitely some detail, including a crater that must be over 20 miles across.

Tuesday, January 28th, 1986

7:45 am – It's less than an hour before launch of the Challenger. I just got in again here at JPL this morning after another pre-dawn drive. No fog this time but an absolutely beautiful sunrise. Snapped a couple of shots while driving on the freeway. I feel great again since I've gotten back here to JPL, but a couple of things bother me slightly. This is the final morning for the encounter period. Although an exciting time, it is also very sad since I'm going to miss this very much until the next encounter with Neptune in August of 1989. The other thing is the strange dream I had last night. I got very little sleep in anticipation of getting up early and being here. This was coupled with the fact that this morning is the launch of the Challenger on the 25th shuttle mission and they always pique my excitement. The dream put a bit of a downer on my excitement though, since it told me that something was wrong with the launch and that specifically, the TDRS-B would not make it into orbit this morning. I'm sure there are many ways to justify the feeling but it just came back to me like a ton of bricks when I sat down a few moments ago to eat breakfast and saw that the monitors are all turned to KSC instead of Uranus this morning. Dreams are fleeting as it is so I wanted to put this down before I forgot it. I'd better get to my breakfast before it gets cold. Greasy hashbrowns again.

9:05 am – The Challenger lifted off beautifully from the pad less than a half hour ago. I thought how lucky I was to be here to see this. The auditorium has a giant screen television and I expected the best views of a launch since I saw STS-7 in person. I even took out my camera and took still photos during the launch off the screen. This is the first time I have done that since STS-3.

As Challenger lifted into the sky and started to roll, shock waves visibly formed on the vehicle from condensation. Across the aisle from me was a reporter from England. We threw comments back and forth on how beautiful and fantastic it looked. At about a minute into the flight I noticed that the flight path didn't seem to match the angle of attack. I had a pang hit my stomach hard. About that moment the camera view changed to a close-up view of the left side. There is usually some flame in the vacuum area behind the External Tank, but it was a lot more evident than usual. Then the flame lept up the back side of the tank. I was in the middle of telling my new British friend, "That's not right," when the vehicle disintegrated in a churning ball of flame and smoke. Pieces of debris, trailing small tendrils of smoke, like stingers on a jellyfish, drifted slowly down to the ocean, 50-thousand feet below.

The unthinkable has happened; seven people and one-quarter of America's space fleet just disappeared before our eyes.

It's very difficult for me to write this now but I feel I have to get it down now or it never will be done. Writing at this moment is the only thing that I can do. I called Cherie and I could barely talk and I find that every time I open my mouth to try and say something now it doesn't work. Leaving the auditorium for the press room and a phone, I found myself nearly falling over several times. I could not take a step without support. After the call, I made my way back here to my seat. I wish I had gone into the bathroom instead. I feel desperately ill but I keep chocking it back because I just can't bring myself to stand again right now.

From what it looked like, the left hand SRB blew apart and the shuttle didn't stand a chance. The englishman kept saying, "No, look there's something still going up. They must have jettisoned and are trying to power back to the Cape." All I could get out was that there wasn't anything left to come back. One of the SRB's was all that was still going. There was no shuttle, no crew. I've been fighting a losing battle with tears for a half hour now. I just can't go on right now. JPL has patched in NBC on one of the monitors and they're showing the launch again.

It's about 40 minutes later now, I really don't feel like checking my watch for an exact time, but I'll try again to keep this up to date with what's happening.

It looks like the flame around the rear of the tank suddenly extended up underneath the orbiter. A second later it just disintegrated. There is absolutely no way that anyone could have survived that!

I just went to the bathroom. It was all I could do to keep from throwing up. I still may. I tried to wash my face in the sink and as soon as the water hit my face I ended up sobbing in the sink. It took me a couple of minutes to stop but I finally got up enough control to walk back out to the press area. I've done a lot of wandering in the last few minutes. I'm not quite sure what to do. I feel totally helpless. I've called Cherie, Christina and Phil. Luckily everyone already knew before I talked to them. I don't think I could have gotten it out to anyone.

9:20 am– Roy Neal from NBC just went live from here at JPL to give a report about previous space disasters. I walked out, not wanting to see it right then. However, everywhere I went, the monitors, which, only a few hours before, had been showing us the wonders of a new planet, now keep flashing pictures of the crew and agonizingly-slow-motion replays of the disaster. The activities concerning Voyager and Uranus have been suspended. No final Voyager press conference, at least, not today. I've got to get out of here for awhile while I still can.

2:340 pm – Home. It rained this afternoon. It's 19 years and 1 day after the Apollo 1 pad fire.

Wednesday, January 29th, 1986

8:39 am – It's been exactly 24 hours since the Challenger was destroyed. Never before, and hopefully, never again, will this happen. The horror of those images will live with me, and the rest of the world, forever. A press conference from the Kennedy Space Center is now airing on the same screen at JPL where we saw the launch yesterday. After this, the final Voyager-Uranus press briefing will begin.

10:00 am – The briefing is about to start. It's very subdued here today. No jubilation. There's still a numbness in the air. Lew Allen, the Director of the Jet Propulsion Lab, will be giving the opening statement:

"Before beginning today's discussion of the Uranus results, on behalf of the staff at JPL and the visiting members of the Voyager team, I wish to express our sorrow at the launch failure yesterday. We are deeply saddened at the loss of seven of our NASA colleagues and wish to express our heartfelt sympathies to their families. I am confident that NASA will expeditiously proceed to analyze the cause of this accident, make the necessary repairs, corrections, and resume the launch schedule of the shuttle."

11:43 am – The data is all here for the scientists to mull over, sort out, and theorize about. So far, the results are exciting: A moon that looks like a child's clay experiment; a set of rings like no other found so far in this solar system; a bizarre magnetic field that is nearly tipped over on its side, on a planet that is already that way; and, yes, they did find out how long the Uranian day is.

At least ten new moons were found and it was proposed, by a group headed by the cartoonist from the Netherlands, to name seven of those moons for the crew of the Challenger.

Epilogue: Friday, February 28th, 1986

It has been a month since the tragedy, and some of the shock has worn off. Voyager, unknowing of the events on Earth, is well past Uranus and taking aim at its final destination, Neptune. By the time the tiny spacecraft sails over the north pole of Neptune, shoots past the moon, Triton, and is on its way out of our solar system, the Space Shuttle will be flying again. The sad memories of January 28th, 1986, will be replaced with the exhilaration of exploration again. Galileo should finally be on its path to Jupiter, taking up permanent residence there. Similar missions to the outer planets, to follow the vision of Voyager, will hopefully be off the drawing boards and taking shape around the nation at contractor facilities like ours. I look forward to being a part of those future projects.

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