Astronaut Tom Jones: Flight Notes

Four Hairballs Head for Space–STS-68 September 11, 2015

Tom Jones, Terry Wilcutt, Jeff Wisoff, and Dan Bursch suit up for STS-68. (NASA)

Since July 1990, the 23 members of Astronaut Group XIII had studied and trained together for their ultimate challenge in space. Although all of us wanted to be the first in our class to fly, we knew it would take a couple of years to get every Hairball into orbit, flying a couple of us rookies at most with every shuttle mission. Bernard Harris and Charlie Precourt were the first in the group to get to space, flying in April 1993 on STS-55. It was almost a year later before I got my chance on STS-59.

Just six months earlier, in October, I was floored to learn I’d be joined on STS-68, flying the SRL-2 radar imaging payload, by THREE of my Hairball classmates: Terry Wilcutt, Jeff Wisoff, and Dan Bursch. We’d spent a year together in “astronaut school” at Johnson Space Center, and flown everything from the simulators to T-38 jets together. We knew each others’ personalities well, and I was reassured that I was flying with good friends and strong, capable crewmates. Jeff and Dan had flown in the previous year as mission specialists, and Terry would be our crew’s pilot. The way we split up our orbit team for round-the-clock radar operations, Dan and I would work the “night” shift together–the Blue Shift–, along with Steve Smith, and Terry and Jeff would take up the Red Shift–daytime back in Houston–with commander Mike Baker.

Today, Terry is the safety and mission assurance chief at NASA, Jeff is principal associate director of the National Ignition Facility (“lasers”), and Dan is a senior project engineer at the Aerospace Corporation. They’ve taught me so much, both on space and on Earth.

Here we are, just after suiting up down the hall from astronaut crew quarters in the Operations and Checkout Building at Kennedy Space Center. From here it was just a few short steps to the elevator down to the Astrovan, and our ride to the pad for the launch of STS-68,

Read more about the STS-68 mission in “Sky Walking: An Astronaut’s Memoir,” and at my website, http://www.AstronautTomJones.com.

STS-68 Preflight: Getting Ready for Space Radar Lab 2 September 8, 2014

The STS-68 crew in the JSC photo studio:
Jones, Wisoff, Baker, Wilcutt, Smith, and Bursch. (NASA sts-6814-1994)

The crew of STS-68, Space Radar Lab 2, on Endeavour. Throughout our training syllabus, we were guided through the frantic schedule of classes and simulator sessions by our training team. Without their expertise, we would never have been ready in time for our planned Aug. 18 launch date.

Our indispensable training team poses with our crew in front of the Full Fuselage Trainer at JSC in Houston. (s94-037719).

The FFT trainer, once in Bldg. 9, is now at the Seattle Museum of Flight, still bearing the scuff marks from the boots of dozens of crews sliding down the exterior using their “Sky Genie” escape ropes.

Our crew of six included two EVA-qualified astronauts: Jeff Wisoff and Steve Smith. They trained for an unexpected spacewalk on STS-68, if needed for repairs or emergency closure of the payload bay doors or latches. As Jeff and Steve worked through their syllabus, including four underwater sessions covering most orbiter repair tasks, I visited to refresh my memory on their tools and to take some photos of them as they prepared to plunge into the 25-foot-deep pool. I’d trained for this same job on STS-59, a few months earlier. Here, Jeff is fully suited, on the donning stand, and ready to begin his training class. Steve Smith is on the other side of the stand. Crewmate and Endeavour pilot Terry Wilcutt took the photo.

Tom Jones with EV1 crewmember Jeff Wisoff, at NASA’s WETF, 1994. (NASA s94-40119)

Terry and I discussed Steve and Jeff’s work poolside at the Weightless Environment Training Facility in Bldg. 29 at Johnson Space Center. This building had once housed the Apollo-era centrifuge, but with the advent of the shuttle, the centrifuge gave way to the new WETF swimming pool for EVA training. The building also housed control consoles, life support systems, tool storage, a medical office, and diver and astronaut locker facilities. An ambulance was always parked at the WETF entrance during suited runs underwater.

Terry Wilcutt (L), STS-68 pilot, discusses contingency EVA plans with payload commander Tom Jones. (NASA S94-40116)

Tom Jones arrives at KSC’s Shuttle Landing Facility for the STS-68 countdown rehearsal. Aug. 1994. (NASA ksc-94pc-936)

Smith, Bursch, and Jones inspect the release for the slide wire basket at the blast bunker. (STS-68-3)

We all had a chance to drive the M113 APC, below, just in case we had to evacuate an injured crewmember from the blast bunker and get him to a nearby helipad.

The crew inspects the rear ramp into the M113 armored personnel carrier. (NASA STS-68-1)

Our crew posed on the launch pad next to Endeavour during the Terminal Countdown Demonstration Test activities. This swingarm carries flammable, gaseous hydrogen away from the external tank during launch preparations. It’s amazing to get so close to this massive machinery, even more startling to realize you’re going to ride it off the planet.

The STS-68 crew on the ET umbilical swing arm during TCDT, Aug. 1994.

The AstroVan (below) is now on display near Atlantis at Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex. Will it roll again? Here we’re loose and joking, but the atmosphere’s a little more tense on the day of the real ride to the launch pad.

Inside the AstroVan on the way to the launch pad during TCDT, August 1994. L to R: Wisoff, Bursch, Wilcutt, Baker, Jones, and Smith. (NASA)

As we waited for our strap-in and countdown rehearsal aboard Endeavour, we took some photos atop the launch pad.

Tom Jones, Steve Smith, Jeff Wisoff, and Dan Bursch wait atop Pad 39A’s 195-foot-level, at the entrance to the swing arm and White Room. 8-1-1994. (NASA)

Smith and Jones wait their turns to strap in aboard Endeavour, Aug. 1, 1994. (NASA)

Steve and I would work on the Blue Shift together with Dan Bursch while in orbit. Steve rode uphill in the MS-1 position on the flight deck, next to flight engineer and MS-2 Dan Bursch.

Our countdown rehearsal ended with a mock pad abort and an emergency egress from the crew module to the escape slide baskets on the western, or far side of the 195-foot level.

Following lunch back at crew quarters, we headed back to the pad for an afternoon press conference near the blast bunker on the pad perimeter road.

Dan Bursch, Jeff Wisoff, Mike Baker, and Tom Jones at the post-TCDT press conference. (NASA)

On the shot below, the slide wires for the escape baskets are visible, reaching back to the 195-foot level at Pad 39A. It was a hot August day on the Florida Space Coast.

The STS-68 crew l to r, Baker, Jones, Wilcutt, Bursch, Wisoff, Smith, at Pad 39A with Endeavour. (NASA sts-68-2_3)

Tom Jones and Terry Wilcutt listen to questions from the press after TCDT. (NASA STS-68-2)

Two days before launch, 20 years ago, for STS-68. The crew arrives at the Cape beach house for BBQ with family members. Left to right: Steve Smith, Mike Baker, Tom Jones, Terry Wilcutt, Jeff Wisoff, and Dan Bursch. NASA had rented us some nifty Chrysler LeBaron convertibles. (below, NASA 9-28-94)

48 hours before launch, the STS-68 crew visits family members at the beach house on Kennedy Space Center. (NASA, 9-28-94)

The day before launch, our food technicians start loading the contents of the fresh food locker: Wheat Thins in ziplocs, tortillas into dark green packages, squeezable cheese spread, picante sauce packets, peanut butter, empty water pouches, my TastyKake chocolate cupcakes and butterscotch krimpets, and (ahem) white packets of high-fiber cookies.

Loading Endeavour’s fresh food locker for flight, STS-68, ~Sep. 29, 1994. Andrea Hurd (l), and Michael D. (r) with Tom Jones (standing). (NASA)

After our pad abort on August 18, we were all eager to go. Here are the four “Hairballs” from the 1990 astronaut group flying on STS-68: Jones, Wilcutt, Wisoff, and Bursch. In the background of the suit room, we see Hoot Gibson (chief astronaut) in the blue flight suit, with tan-suited Dave Leestma (chief of Flight Crew Operations) on the right. We would shortly walk to the Astrovan for our ride to Pad 39A.

Tom Jones, Terry Wilcutt, Jeff Wisoff, and Dan Bursch suit up for STS-68. (NASA)

Tom and LIz Jones tour Endeavour at Launch Pad 39A a couple of days before launch of STS-68. (photo by Rich Clifford, NASA)

In the photo above, LIz and I posed in front of Endeavour as part of our spouse’s tour before heading to night viewing with our friends and family. We were able to see the ship from top to bottom, from the White Room down to the flame trench beneath the mobile launch platform on Pad 39A. Likely taken Aug. 17, 1994. For more info on STS-68, see: http://www.AstronautTomJones.com

Endeavour Rollout to Launch Pad 39A, Aug. 8, 1995 March 20, 2014

Space Shuttle Endeavour launched on its STS-69 mission on September 7, 1995. The orbiter and stack had rolled back to the VAB on Aug. 1 to avoid the effets of Hurricane Erin. I was one of the capcoms (astronaut communicator working in Mission Control) for the mission, and I had never seen a space shuttle stack move out to the launch pad. So I took advantage of an invitation from the STS-69 crew (Dave Walker, Ken Cockrell, Jim Voss, Mike Gernhardt, and Jim Newman) to join them for the rollout. Our pair of T-38s headed from Ellington Field near Johnson Space Center for the Cape on the afternoon of Aug. 7, 1995.

NASA 907 off the wing of NASA 902, flown by Cockrell/Jones. 8/7/95 (Jones photo)

After spending the night at astronaut crew quarters, we were up the next morning to join Endeavour on her roll to the pad, which had begun in darkness at 1:55 am. We drove out to the crawlerway, once the route of Saturn V moon rockets to the pad, catching a heart-stopping view of the shuttle stack about two-thirds of the way to Launch Pad 39A. We parked along the road to step aboard the Mobile Launch Platform and get up close to the orbiter I’d flown twice in the previous year (STS-59 and STS-68).

The STS-69 Endeavour stack plods toward Launch Pad 39A on 8/8/95. (Jones photo)

I had never boarded the MLP while in motion, but it was easy to jump aboard the gangway at its 1 mph pace along the crushed river stone of the crawlerway and climb to the deck. Here I was within touching distance of the Endeavour stack, this time unprotected from any pad structure, as on my prelaunch visits to my ship in 1994. Endeavour was independent and self-supported, gliding toward its appointment with orbit, oblivious of the human gnats buzzing around her with a Nikon draped around their necks.

An early morning view of Endeavour’s main and OMS engines from the mobile launcher deck. (Jones photo)

I think the focus on the above shot is a bit soft, due to the early morning light at the Cape–we got their shortly after dawn. The two tab-shaped gray structures on either side of the orbiter’s tail also belonged to the MLP. They housed the T-minus-zero umbilicals (“T-zero umbilicals” was how we said it), those clusters of gas, power, and propellant lines that fed into the ship on either side, just below the OMS pods. Through these umbilicals the external tank received its propellants, the orbiter received commands and electrical power and sent back telemetry, and its plumbing was furnished with gaseous nitrogen for purging the payload bay and engine compartment. At zero in the count, the umbilical panel was yanked away by a falling counterweight, retracted into the gray structure, and protected from the fierce exhaust blast by armored doors that slammed down over the now-recessed umbilical plate.

The “T-Zero” umbilical panels retract into these twin, armored gray towers flanking either side of Endeavour’s engine compartment. (Jones photo)

While pacing the MLP and craning my neck back to look up at Endeavour (as close as I’d been since my landing at Edwards on STS-68 the previous October), I had to get myself in the picture. I’d lived aboard this ship in space for three weeks in 1994, yet it was still hard to wrap my head around that reality. How is it possible that we could have hurled this entire machine into space at five miles per second, with six humans aboard, and brought it back safely to Earth? We have deliberately chosen to walk away from this national capability. Today, if we don’t choose to use these machines any longer, we must quickly–very quickly–develop an alternative national means to send our people to space. Not accelerating this development is sheer negligence on a national scale.

Tom Jones, who flew twice on Endeavour, stands beside the machine he can’t quite fully believe took him to space. (Jones photo)

We dropped back to Earth again, stepping onto the crawlerway for a few more photos as the mobile launcher neared the incline to the top of Pad 39A. These views just kept me grinning and shaking my head in awe. I will be similarly amazed when a mobile launcher carries the first Space Launch System booster to its pad.

The mobile launcher carries Endeavour to the base of the incline leading up to Pad 39A. (Jones photo)

Endeavour, OV-105, began its ascent of the ramp to 39A as I took up a perch on the Rotating Service Structure, seen to the left in the photo above. This was the rail-mounted “gantry” that would swing in behind the orbiter, once it was in position, and enclose most of the orbiter for protection from the weather. It would also provide clean-room access to the payload bay, enabling technicians to transfer payloads from a mobile canister from the RSS into the payload bay. For me, the top of the RSS provided a fantastic photo vantage point for me and the Nikon F4 I’d borrowed from the photo lab at JSC.

Endeavour seen from the RSS, preparing for the final climb to the pad summit. (Jones photo).

Endeavour begins its climb up the pad incline to its MLP pedestals on Pad 39A. (Jones photo)

The MLP jacks up its rear trucks to level the deck and keep Endeavour upright as the climb continues. (Jones photo)

Closing in on the summit of Pad 39A. (Jones photos)

From atop the RSS I head the constant roar of the crawler’s diesels (in turn powering electric motors that drive the tracks) as it mounted the pad elevation.

Endeavour atop the MLP is pulling under my vantage point on the Rotating Service Structure. (Jones photo)

If there’s anything that will bring a grin to your face, it’s the sight of a spaceship almost imperceptibly rolling up alongside of you. The orbiter seemed to say: “Comin’ through! I’m headed for orbit. Stand aside!”

A look into the flame trench as Endeavour nears its parking spot atop the pad. Note the rail track which will permit the RSS to swing in behind the orbiter once it’s parked. (Jones photo)

Endeavour pulls even with the pad structure as I stood, amazed, just above the orbiter White Room level on the RSS.

The crawler carrying the MLP and Endeavour reaches its final parking position. (Jones photo)

Here, the crawler would lower the stack onto the four massive launch platform pedestals, then drive back down the incline for its next job. Back on the MLP deck, I got a look at the base of the external tank and its structural connections to the solid rocket boosters. Each booster is held to the platform by 4 massive bolts and nuts, which shatter under explosive detonations at T-minus-zero.

Endeavour’s body flap hangs below the ET, flanked by the solid rocket boosters. The gray piping dispenses the flood of sound suppression water at engine ignition. (Jones photo).

I flew home later that afternoon, with Ken Cockrell at the controls. I hope he’ll be able to figure out who the crew is in T-38 #907, based on the helmet colors in the photo. STS-69 launched on September 7, 1995:

Endeavour leaves Earth on September 7, 1995, for its 11-day mission. (NASA KSC-95EC-1301)

My thanks to the STS-69 crew for allowing me to share their orbiter’s rollout, and for inviting me to work with them as a capcom on their mission. Of course, Ken Cockrell and I flew together just 14 months later on STS-80. But that’s another story. See my website here for more details:

www.AstronautTomJones.com

STS-68, Endeavour, Space Radar Lab 2, Sep. 30-Oct. 11, 1994 September 4, 2013

Mission Patch for STS-68, Space Radar Lab 2

This month is the 20th anniversary of the Space Radar Lab 2 mission, STS-68. I was the payload commander, along with Mike Baker (CDR), Dan Bursch (MS2), Steve Smith (MS1), Terry Wilcutt (PLT), and Jeff Wisoff (MS3). An ambitious follow up to the successful STS-59, Space Radar Lab 1, SRL-2 was aimed at flying the multi-frequency, multi-polarized Shuttle Imaging Radar-C, X-Band Synthetic Aperture Radar, and the Measurement of Air Pollution from Satellites sensors in the northern hemisphere late summer, to compare SRL-1’s spring mapping results to those from a contrasting season of the year. STS-68 would also test radar interferometry, a technique to create highly accurate, three-dimensional maps of Earth’s topography. (More info at www.AstronautTomJones.com)

My crewmates and I rehearsed our countdown procedures at Kennedy Space Center on August 1, 1994.

Seated on the far right of Endeavour’s middeck during our mock countdown on Aug. 1, 1994, my crewmember designation was MS-4. (NASA ksc-94pc-966)

Jeff Wisoff was seated to my left, close to the galley and side hatch. Note my clear helmet visor, indicating a “practice” helmet. We kept the dark visors for the real launch day, to avoid scratching them during our practice sessions like this one.

Our launch was planned on August 18, 1994, but at dawn on that date, when Endeavour’s main engines (SSMEs) ignited, the #3 engine violated a redline constraint, and the GPCs ordered an abort and engine shutdown. They automatically called for a shutdown when the discharge temperature on MPS SSME Main Engine #3 High Pressure Oxidizer Turbopump (HPOT) exceeded its redline value. The HPOT typically operates at 28,120 rpm and boosts the liquid oxygen pressure from 422 psia to 4,300 psia. There are 2 sensor channels measuring temperature on the HPOT. The B channel indicated a redline condition while the other was near redline conditions. The temperature at shutdown was at 1563 degrees R. while a normal HPOT discharge temperature is around 1403 degrees R. The redline limit to initiate a shutdown is at 1560 degrees R. This limit increases to 1760 degrees R. at T-1.3 sec (5.3 sec after Main Engine Start). Main Engine #3 (SN 2032) has been used on 2 previous flights with 2,412 seconds of hot-fire time and a total of 8 starts. This was the first flight for the HPOT on Main Engine (SSME) #3.

On Aug. 18, 1994, Endeavour’s main engines were nearly at full thrust, when, at 1.9 seconds prior to liftoff, an overheat triggered a pad abort. (NASA)

What all of this meant to me on the middeck (sitting next to Jeff Wisoff), was that as I felt the SSMEs rumble to life, I began mentally counting down the six seconds til booster ignition at T-minus-zero. Braced against the massive jolt of those SRBs exploding into life, I instead felt the engine vibration die away just as Terry Wilcutt shouted “Right engine down!”, accompanied by the blare of the master alarm. This meant serious trouble.

Out the hatch window to my left, I noted the gantry structure seeming to sway left and right under the vanished shove from Endeavour’s main engines–that was US swaying back and forth. Jeff and I hurriedly threw off our parachute straps and prepared to scoot across the middeck to open the hatch; we might all have to make a beeline to the escape slides on the far side of the gantry’s 190 foot level. We stayed on intercom, waiting for the word to egress.

Tom Jones strapped into Endeavour’s middeck MS-4 seat, during countdown rehearsal in early August, 1994. (NASA ksc-94pc-967)

Within the first minute, Launch Control had our pilots executing the pad abort checklist, entering computer commands that would stop the backup flight software from jettisoning our solid rocket boosters at T+2 minutes (embarrassing and deadly). As Jeff and I cleared our seats in the middeck and stood by to open the hatch, we heard reassuring words from Launch Director Bob Sieck’s team that the computers had executed an orderly shutdown, and no fire or explosion risk was evident.

“Damn! We’re scrubbed!” Jeff opined that we’d be set back at least three weeks by the necessary engine changeout. In fact it would take six weeks for our rollback, engine change, and rollout. STS-64 would slip ahead of us and fly in early September with its LITE laser sensor payload. Our new launch date would be Sept. 30, 1994.

The launch team did a superb job on our abort–the last pad abort in the space shuttle program, and the one that came hair-raisingly close to leaping off the pad with one engine down. That would have meant an immediate scramble to perform a Return To Launch Site (RTLS) abort, flying backward through our Mach 5 exhaust plume to attempt a dicey landing back on Merritt Island. If anyone could pull it off, it would have been Bakes, Terry, Dan, and Steve. Assuredly, no one wanted to try it first.

The STS-68 crew: (L to R) Jones, Wisoff, Baker, Wilcutt, Smith, Bursch (NASA)

September 30 was set as our new launch date. STS-64 in the meantime had flown its successful LITE Earth-science mission, with the additional milestone of Mark Lee and Carl Meade test-flying the SAFER EVA jetpack. Our crew had taken a week-long vacation, then got back into simulations and recurring training to polish our space radar abilities. I thought we used the extra time to good effect, and we proceeded to the Cape even better prepared than we were in August. We were certainly more rested than on our first attempt.

One piece of bad luck befell us: on the day we entered quarantine, five of us came down with cold systems. We suffered through four days in Houston of runny noses, aches and pains, and sore throats, but with constant flight surgeon attention we slowly improved. Our flight to the Cape was on the Shuttle Training Aircraft, the Gulfstream jet, to spare our sinuses enroute.

When we arrived at the Cape, Dan Bursch stepped off the jet in his Groucho Marx disguise, telling reporters that our chances of avoiding a launch abort were better if Endeavour didn’t know he was in the launch area. Our spirits were certainly on the upswing as our three days in Florida at crew quarters drew to a close.

Endeavour rockets off Pad 39A at 7:16:00:068 a.m on Sept. 30, 1994, to begin the STS-68 mission. (NASA STS068-s-037)

Our launch was timed for dawn on September 30, with Endeavour taking us into a 57-degree inclination, circular orbit, about 120 nm up. At that altitude our orbit would drift west at such a rate that we could image each of our science targets three times each day, from slightly different radar incidence angles.

Endeavour and the SRL-2 crew leave Earth on a pillar of fire, Sept. 30, 1994.

The liftoff was exhilarating–this time I knew what to expect! I occupied the same seat as on SRL-1, with Jeff Wisoff to my left. No abort this time–the boosters came alive with a punch to the gut and we soared aloft. Much of the cabin dialogue we exchanged during launch is in my book, Sky Walking: An Astronaut’s Memoir. I’d asked that the side hatch window cover again be removed, so I had a terrific view of the gantry turning from gray, to red, to white-hot as the boosters lit. The following eight and a half minutes were punctuated by pyros firing to sever the boosters at two minutes, and then the attention-getting 3 g’s during the final minute of the ascent. During those final seconds I truly experienced the power of the space shuttle’s three main engines, just hurling our 100-ton orbiter toward the injection altitude and velocity. A miracle of technology and physics.

We launched at dawn to give us the best chance to avoid early showers developing on the humid coast.

Below, another beautiful view of our dawn liftoff, as Endeavour jolts off the pad. During my second ascent to orbit, I was able to enjoy the physical and mental impressions a bit more methodically, recording my comments on a microcassette recorder during the eight-and-a-half minute climb to our 120 nm mapping orbit.

STS-68 lifts off in the dawn twilight. (Karl Ronstrom)

After MECO, it was off to the races, with Steve Smith and I teaming up on video and still photography of the external tank as it drifted away, below us. Then Jeff and I threw ourselves into converting the middeck into its orbit configuration, and getting the rest of the crew out of their suits and on into their orbital jobs. We had only about 5 hours until my bedtime; the Blue Shift of Steve, Dan and I were due for our first sleep period while Jeff, Mike, and Terry activated SRL-2.

Our external tank, built by Lockheed Martin, drifts clear after MECO. The tank burned up over the Indian Ocean while our OMS engines propelled us into our final orbit. (NASA sts068-01-008)

Before launch, our crew had a chance to examine the Space Radar Lab and its SIR-C/X-SAR radars up close, nestled in Endeavour’s payload bay. C-band panels line the left edge, and the larger L-band panels cover most of the 12-m-long antenna. Along the port edge, next to the robot Canadarm, the German/Italian X-SAR antenna is folded downward toward the sill of the payload bay.

In the orbiter processing facility bay 1, the Space Radar Laboratory 2 (SRL-2) is being transferred from the payload canister transporter into the payload bay of Endeavour. (NASA KSC-94PC-877)

Below, SRL-2 is in orbit. Space Radar Lab 2 had some new wrinkles, added since our April flight of SRL-1. The JPL folks had added a gold decal that matched one the Germans and Italians had placed on the X-band antenna. And the Langley Research Center also added a label to their Measurement of Air Pollution from Satellites (MAPS) instrument, positioned right in front of the radar antennae. It all made for a spectacular view out the back windows of the cabin:

Space Radar Lab 2, in Endeavour’s cargo bay, 120 nm above the Mongolian “Valley of the Lakes”, in southwestern Mongolia between the Khangai and Gobi Altai mountains. (NASA STS068-225-013)

We also had about 160 radar imagery recording cassettes aboard, up from the hundred or so we took aloft on SRL-1. The radar imaging schedule was even more ambitious than in April–and I’d thought that was intense!

I had thought I was over my cold, but upon arrival in orbit and a night’s sleep, I ran into its aftereffects. My sinuses were clogged, and without gravity, NOTHING was coming “down” out of my nose. My head felt like a balloon, and my face was reddened as if by a sunburn. I took to the medical locker to find the decongestants, and over a week or so, I slowly improved. The rest of my crewmates also dealt with the congestion lingering from our colds, and the natural stuffiness from the fluid shift headward, caused by our transition to free fall.

Jeff Wisoff, assisted by the pilots and coordinating with Mission Control (MCC), got SRL-2 up and running on his long first shift in orbit. When I woke from my quick 6 hours of sleep and talked to Jeff, I found he’d been “running” flat out with the activation for his entire shift, barely having time to grab a drink or a quick snack. I got cleaned up in a hurry and took over with Dan and Steve as quickly as we could, to spell the Red Shift from their labors. Having been up more than 18 hours, they were understandably tired. We tucked them into bed and ran with our Science Timeline, our program of observations.

The damaged right OMS pod tile, shattered by a tile that broke loose during ascent from the rim of the left overhead window. (NASA sts068-067-013)

We discovered the tile damage on the first day of the flight, after opening the payload bay doors and inspecting the cargo bay. MCC determined that the heat loads on the upper half of the OMS pod were mild enough that the tile damage would not be dangerous. That greatly eased our minds. It was several days later that we discovered the source of the damage, looking up through the window and noticing a missing piece of tile just outside the outer pane. The tile tore loose during ascent and flew back to strike the OMS pod.

Our STS-68 Blue Shift team: Dan (top), Steve (middle) and Tom (bottom). I slept on the ceiling of the lower bunk. (NASA STS068-033-027)

The radar imagery returned resulted in wonderful images, like the one below, all across the disciplines of the Earth sciences. As we woke for our first work shift, Jeff, Terry, and Bakes called us upstairs to see a spectacular volcanic eruption in Kamchatka. Everyone grabbed a camera to capture images out the windows, while the radar lab obtained thousands of detailed images, revealing details obscured by the eruption plume.

The Kliuchevskoi volcano erupted on our launch day, Sep. 30, 1994. We tracked its eruption over the next week with photography and radar images like this one. The green streaks down the side of the 15,000-foot volcano (center) are mud and lava flows. (NASA JPL p44823)

The eruption was a true serendipitous gift from nature. If we had launched in August as planned, we would have missed this rare geological event. Now we had a ringside seat.

Kliuchevskoi’s eruption as seen from STS-68, Endeavour. This shot was taken with a Hasselblad and 100mm lens. (NASA STS068_214_045)

Dan Bursch points out to me where we REALLY are, above planet Earth. Our atlas showed our orbit tracks and our 400+ science targets. JPL’s science team prepared these custom-made maps with advice from our crew. (NASA STS068-083-023)

Our wide-angle 90mm lens on the Linhof camera captured the view below. The Linhof produced a 4×5-inch film negative, with incredible detail. Each magazine held 100 frames, and we refilled magazines with fresh film inside a light-tight bag, stowing the exposed film in canisters and manually spooling a new roll into the magazine. The film reloading was part of our nightly housekeeping routine. But it was hard to tear ourselves away from the windows!

Kliuchevskoi Volcano’s major eruption began September 30, 1994 (launch day) for STS-68. It got almost immediate coverage by the astronauts aboard the Space Shuttle Endeavour. The eruption cloud reached 60,000 feet above sea level, and the winds carried ash as far as 640 miles southeast from the volcano into the North Pacific air routes. This picture was made with a large format Linhof camera. While astronauts used handheld camera’s to keep up with the Kamchatka event, instruments in the cargo bay of Endeavour recorded data to support the Space Radar Laboratory (SRL-2) mission. (STS068-150-045)

We were able to monitor Kliuchevskoi’s eruption for a solid week, using the SRL to track eruptive phases as weather fronts came and went across Kamchatka. During a TV downlink to MCC, I described how the radar beams interacted with lavas of varying roughness, using three samples from Hawaii to illustrate the viewing geometry. I had chunks of aa, pahoehoe, and andesite lava aboard–in free fall, I had to take care to not release rock dust or slivers of lava into the cabin from their ziploc bags.  The andesite sample was a more viscous, stiff lava, erupted from some of the more recent cinder cones on Mauna Kea.

Kliuchevskoi eruption viewed from Endeavour’s aft flight deck windows. (NASA sts068-153-007)

Our shift work was 12 hours on, an 8-hour sleep shift, plus 4 hours for “post-sleep” and “pre-sleep”. In those periods, we talked things over with the Red Shift guys, had breakfast, dinner, and exercise, and took care of necessary housekeeping. One of the challenges was giving Jeff, Terry, and Bakes a good night’s sleep by keeping quiet in the middeck. Even opening a locker could wake up that crew in their sleeping bags, inside their bunks, so we tried to get our lunch like church mice, then eat on the flight deck. Once I dumped a chunk of scrambled eggs that I’d insecurely anchored to a tortilla–it went flying all over the flight deck, and Dan had to help me gobble up the floating egg debris. Dan’s homemade chocolate chip cookies crumbled in their ziploc–getting them out without crumbs floating everywhere required true astronaut skill. From home, with the help of the JSC Space Food Lab, I’d brought TastyKake chocolate cupcakes and Butterscotch Krimpets, enough snacks to carry me through the 11-day mission.

Flying high — about 115 nm up on Endeavour, STS-68. I’m with Dan Bursch and Mike Baker on the flight deck, with Earth in view out the windows. I have the Linhof with 250mm lens, Dan the video camcorder (look how huge it is), and Mike has a Hasselblad 70mm body with a 250mm telephoto lens. (NASA)

From the wetlands in Maryland to the nation’s capital and onto Baltimore, this 70mm photograph from the Space Shuttle Endeavour shows some details of the historic Chesapeake Bay and Potomac River area. With the rather low altitude of Endeavour at 115 nautical miles, features as small as Kennedy Memorial Stadium and Andrews Air Force Base are clearly seen. (NASA STS068-234-044 )

The area above is my stomping grounds, the region where I grew up, and I can see my entire youthful experience in this single photo, from the Appalachians to the Atlantic Coast. I grew up in Baltimore, and now live and work near Washington, DC. So much U.S. history is also captured in this shot, from the formative moves toward independence in 1776, to major battlefields of the Civil War, to the great Emancipation in 1862 and at the Civil War’s close. During WWII, the Martin aircraft factory in Baltimore built the B-26 Marauder bomber, and in the 1960s produced the Gemini-Titan II boosters that jump-started my space interests. During the mission, my brother watched me soar overhead in Endeavour before dawn from his home in Fredericksburg, VA, in the Chesapeake region.

When we reached orbit on Sept. 30, ’94, the Taklamakan Desert was a major landmark and science target for Space Radar Lab 2. Our radar targets were the alluvial fans and dune fields along the southern margin of the Taklamakan, where the Silk Road oases hosted caravans and travelers on an ancient trade route. Note the alluvial fans and vegetation in foreground, fed by streams from the Altyn-Tagh mountains bordering the desert on the south. Our radar images found traces of Silk Road irrigation channels and sand-covered villages.

This south-looking view shows most of the west end of snow-dusted ranges on the Tibetan Plateau. A major fault line separates the plateau from the low-lying Takla Makan Desert (foreground). The darker areas along two rivers (foreground) make up one of the largest agricultural regions in the Takla Makan Desert. The hazy atmosphere over India (top) contrasts with the thinner, clear air over the plateau. The Vale of Kashmir in northern India is the prominent valley within the first wall of the Himalayan Mountains. (NASA caption for STS068-L158-000C )

All of us enjoyed our repeated views of San Francisco Bay and the San Andreas Fault, running left to right in the bottom of the image below. Steve Smith and Jeff Wisoff were both Stanford grads, and Mike Baker hails from this part of the country. Urban growth patterns and the many tectonic faults and features were the focus of our radar and camera studies here.

Photographed through the Space Shuttle Endeavour’s flight deck windows, the heavily populated San Francisco Bay area is featured in this 70mm frame. The relatively low altitude of Endeavour’s orbit (115 nautical miles) and the use of a 250mm lens on the Hasselblad camera allowed for capturing detail in features such as the Berkeley Marina (frame center). The region’s topography is well depicted with the lowland areas heavily populated and the hills much more sparsely covered. The Oakland Hills in the right lower center appear to be re-vegetated after a devastating fire. The Golden Gate Recreation Area in the upper left also shows heavy vegetation. The three bridges across the main part of the bay and their connecting roads are prominent. Cultural features such as Golden Gate Park and the Presidio contrast with the gray of the city. (NASA caption, STS068-244-022)

Below, the Front Range of the Rockies is visible in this shot, focused just north of my alma mater, the U.S. Air Force Academy. The dramatic rise of the Front Range, in stark contrast to the Colorado plains, is apparent from overhead. I could also see at a glance several familiar airports–Buckley Field, Stapleton International, and the new Denver airport–I frequented during my Air Force flying years. Early snows top the highest peaks to the west.

The location of Denver, Colorado – on the western edge of the High Plains, at the junction of the South Platte River and Clear Creek east of the Rocky Mountains – is graphically displayed. Mount Evans and its surroundings are already covered by snow on October 8, 1994. Clear Creek was one of the first areas in the Rockies where gold was discovered by American prospectors in the 19th century, which led to the settlement of Denver. The growth of 20th century Denver, dominantly to the west and south, is apparent. Stapleton Field, close to downtown Denver, was soon replaced by the new regional airport well out on the plains.
(NASA sts068-248-092)

Above, from STS-68, SRL-2, the Panama Canal Zone, seen in Oct. 1994. Note the Pacific at left, with Panama City. Colon is on the Atlantic Coast (Caribbean) at right. The dark green jungle area protects the watershed that supplies the canal with fresh water via the Chagras River and Gatun Lake, at the canal’s midpoint. We were about 120 miles up over northern S. America when we took this shot. (NASA STS068-327-099)

On Space Radar Lab 2, the region below was one of our bread-and-butter science regions, full of radar targets for SIR-C and X-SAR. During training I’d visited several geoscience teams, studying alluvial fans on the margins of Death Valley, lava flows from young volcanic vents near Barstow, and a snow pack science lab near the summit of volcanic Mammoth Mountain. This frame captures that entire region, a fascinating Earth science laboratory. Make sure you visit Furnace Creek in Death Valley, and swim in the hot-spring-fed pool there.

An extensive view eastward from the irrigated San Joaquin Valley in the foreground, across the Sierra Nevada (living up to its name in early October), into the desert of eastern California and Nevada (which has no snow, despite the name). Mono Lake is just visible at the left edge of the frame; Owens Valley extends southward to Owens Lake, the next valley is Panamint Valley, and then Death Valley. Las Vegas and Lake Mead are visible at the upper right of the frame. The Space Radar Laboratory 2 (SRL-2) obtained extensive, multiple-pass data from many test sites within the region displayed, including Mammoth Mountain ski area south of Mono Lake, and in Death Valley. (NASA sts068-267-0971)

Connected to biomedical sensors, astronaut Steven L. Smith, mission specialist, serves as test subject for one of the flight’s 15 Detailed Supplementary Objectives (DSO). Astronaut Michael A. Baker, mission commander, monitors the test on the Space Shuttle Endeavour’s middeck. This test deals with the visual-vestibular integration as a function of adaptation to Spaceflight. Baker and Smith were joined by four other NASA astronauts for eleven days aboard the Endeavour in Earth-orbit, in support of the Space Radar Laboratory-2 (SRL-2) mission. (NASA caption, STS068-021-023).

In the test above, Steve had a laser on his headstrap, and his job was to rotate his head to put the laser dot on a series of targets about 6 feet away on the middeck lockers, forward. The sequence of pointing was random, and the package Steve was wearing recorded his eye motions as well as his response and pointing time. Looks a little like The Terminator if you ask me. Mike Baker helps with the checklist. Note the tortillas in the ziploc bag on the Middeck Equipment Rack (MER) behind Baker, with the galley to the right.

When I enlarge the photo, I see my crew notebook also velcroed to the lockers above Mike’s left shoulder. And I’m actually visible behind Mike, taking a look out the side hatch window (or scrubbing the bathroom!).

An exceptionally clear, high-contrast view of the desert basins east and south of Mono Lake, California. Light clouds dot the mountain ranges; the clouds were transparent to radar beams from the Space Radar Laboratory 2 (SRL-2) payload. (NASA caption, STS068-150-020)

We landed from this mission 20 years ago (10-94), but there are still surprises in the film shots (15,000) we took of Earth. Mono Lake is clearly visible above in this southwesterly view across the Basin & Range toward the Sierras. Beyond Mono Lake in the Sierras is the gateway to Yosemite Valley. Walker Lake is visible at lower right. South of Mono Lake is a chain of volcanoes, the Inyo Craters, leading toward the ski resort of Mammoth Mountain (ski trails are visible on the summit). To the upper left of Mono Lake is the tadpole-shaped Lake Crowley, in the oval basin called Long Valley Caldera. 700,000 years ago, that volcano erupted meters of ash all over the southwest US in a “supervolcano” eruption. The valley still smolders today with steam vents and carbon dioxide seeps. This is a spectacular part of the USA, and one of our science supersites on STS-68, SRL-2.

Below: The dark blue basin on the right of Crowley Lake is the Long Valley caldera, its oval, volcanic rim running NW to SE.

This false-color composite radar image of the Mammoth Mountain area in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, California, was acquired by the Spaceborne Imaging Radar-C and X-band Synthetic Aperture Radar aboard the space shuttle Endeavour on its 67th orbit on October 3, 1994. The image is centered at 37.6 degrees north latitude and 119.0 degrees west longitude. The area is about 39 kilometers by 51 kilometers (24 miles by 31 miles). North is toward the upper right about 45 degrees from the top. In this image, red was created using L-band (horizontally transmitted/ vertically received) polarization data; green was created using C-band (horizontally transmitted/vertically received) polarization data; and blue was created using C-band (horizontally transmitted and received) polarization data. Crowley Lake appears dark at the bottom right of the image, just above or south of Long Valley. The Mammoth Mountain ski area is visible at the top left of the scene. The red areas correspond to forests, the dark blue areas are bare surfaces and the green areas are short vegetation, mainly brush. The purple areas at the higher elevations in the left part of the scene are discontinuous patches of snow cover from a September 28 storm. New, very thin snow was falling before and during the second space shuttle pass. (NASA P-44739)

Armed with a 250mm telephoto lens on a Linhof camera aboard Endeavour, I’m ready for the next stunning Earth view on STS-68, 10-94.

The Sahara was always full of mystery and visual treasure (below). The rust-red Tifernine Dunes are a Sahara landmark for space crews, imaged ever since the Gemini missions in 1965-66. Isolated in the midst of these sand and rock vistas are lofty volcanic peaks, like Tibesti, seldom visited by ground explorers. Several asteroid impact craters are also easy–and thrilling–to see. Sometimes while over the Sahara, you could convince yourself that the huge expanse of tan, yellow, and orange sands in view must be those of Mars.

This northwest-looking view shows central Algeria with an unusual amount of cloud cover, responsible for one of the infrequent bouts of rain in the Sahara Desert. The lope-shaped, red sand dunes mass in the center of the view is one of the most prominent features in the Sahara as seen from the Space Shuttle Endeavour, STS-68. It is known as the Tifernine Dunes. The Atlas Mountains (top) are only apparent in this view because of the clouds, which cap their summits. (NASA STS068-228-081)

We used Space Radar Lab 2 to measure from space the glacier motion on these Andean snowfields, using a technique called radar interferometry. Science aside, it was a visual treat to see these jewel-like icebergs adrift in the turquoise, glacier-melt waters of these fjords. A few years later I observed such glaciers up close in Prince William Sound and Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska. Rarely did shuttle missions reach the high (57-deg orbit inclination) latitudes we experienced on the Radar Lab flights, treating our crewmates to these unforgettable views of far southern S. America.

In this STS-68 photo, the ice visible along the bottom of this view is the north end of the larger (southern) of two great remaining ice field of the Andes Mountains in Chile. The longest glacier visible here flows down into the Calen Fjord (an arm of the Pacific Ocean known as Canal Baker) where numerous calved icebergs can be seen floating. The other three glaciers end in glacier-cut valleys with small lakes – the bigger lake has numerous icebergs as well. the river snaking through the mountains to the fjord drains water from the great Lake O’Higgins, which lies out of the picture to the right. Glacial mud can be seen emptying into the fjord and discoloring the water with its milky color. (NASA caption, STS068-260-078 )

Australia’s landscape is as extensive as the continental U.S., and in the early “down under” spring of 1994, wildfires raged in several locations. This area of Queensland was particularly drought-ridden, and the fires were targets of our STS-68 carbon monoxide pollution sensor, MAPS. Aboard Endeavour, we photographed wildfires and smoke plumes for comparison with the MAPS data, and radioed reports of these carbon monoxide sources to the science team in the SRL payload operations control center in Houston.

Forest fires in southeastern Queensland, Australia. The smoke is blowing to the east. This is the southeastern edge of the Darling Downs, a wheat-growing and sheep pasture region just west of the Great Dividing Range, southwest of Brisbane. An extensive summer drought made the forests of the range highly susceptible to wildfire. (STS068-253-045)

Astronauts Peter J. K. “Jeff” Wisoff and Steven L. Smith, mission specialists, perform in-flight maintenance procedures on the flight deck. They are replacing a malfunctioning Payload High Rate Recorder (PHRR) aboard the Space Shuttle Endeavour. Astronauts Wisoff and Smith were joined by four other NASA astronauts aboard the Endeavour in operating the Space Radar Laboratory-2 (SRL-2) mission. (NASA caption, STS068-074-008)

The recorders were adapted from digital tape machines that flew in recon aircraft to record digital imagery data. One of the three on our flight deck failed about 8 days into the mission, so Jeff and Steve removed it and replaced it with a spare recorder that’d been flown up underneath our middeck floor. Pretty handy mechanics. Within 4 hours they had the new machine up and running again.

It’s rare to get a cloud-free pass above the Alps. Below, Lake Geneva dominates the center right; Geneva city is at the left, narrow end of the lake. Lake Geneva is fed by the Rhone River, with its spectacular right-angle turn to the east upstream from the lake. At far right center is Lake Neuchatel; Berne is just out of view, to the right. Lac du Bourget is the small lake left of center. Lyons is under the clouds at upper left. Here in early autumn, the snows have not moved into the Alps as yet, but a few high glaciers are still beautifully evident to my crew. Our radars imaged the glaciated Alps to study the motion of these ice “rivers” over time.

Parts of the Swiss Cantons of Vaud and Valois, the French province of Chablis and parts of northwestern Italy are seen in this widely stretching image photographed from the Space Shuttle Endeavour. Pennine Alps, said to have been created 50 million years ago, have been reshaped by glaciers during Pleistocene. The glaciers created the wide valley of the Rhone River by scourting a pre-existing seam. The fertile Swiss Plateau runs northwest from the shore of Lake Geneva and is visible in lower left. The Franco-Swiss border is located in the center of the lake and follows a mountain divide east of Rhone Valley. Italy lies south of the Rhone. (NASA caption, STS068-243-076 )

Photographed through the Space Shuttle Endeavour’s flight windows, this 70mm frame centers on Yellowstone Lake in the Yellowstone National Park. North will be at the top if picture is oriented with series of sun glinted creeks and river branches at top center. The lake, at 2,320 meters (7,732 feet) above sea level, is the largest high altitude lake in North America. East of the park part of the Absaroka Range can be traced by following its north to south line of snow capped peaks. Jackson Lake is southeast of Yellowstone Park, and the connected Snake River can be seen in the lower left corner. Yellowstone, established in 1872 is the world’s oldest national park. It covers an area of 9,000 kilometers (3,500 square miles), lying mainly on a broad plateau of the Rocky Mountains on the Continental Divide. It’s average altitude is 2,440 meters (8,000 feet) above sea level. The plateau is surrounded by mountains exceeding 3,600 meters (12,000 feet) in height. Most of the plateau was formed from once-molten lava flows, the last of which is said to have occurred 100,000 years ago. Early volcanic activity is still evident in the region by nearly 10,000 hot springs, 200 geysers and numerous vents found throughout the park.(NASA caption, STS068-247-061)

And now, halfway around the world, to China:

Photographed through the Space Shuttle Endeavour’s flight deck windows, this 70mm frame shows a small section of China’s Yellow River (Huang Ho) highlighted by sunglint reflection off the surface of the water. The river flows northeastward toward the village of Tung-lin-tzu. The low dissected mountains that cover more than half of this scene rise some 2,000 feet (on the average) above the valley floor. A major east-west transportation corridor (both railway and automobile) is observed traversing the landscape north of the river. This entire region is considered to be part of the Ordos Desert, actually part of the greater Gobi located just north of this area. Approximate center coordinates of this scene are 37.5 degrees N latitude and 105.0 degrees E longitude. (NASA caption, STS068-220-033 )

We looked repeatedly on our passes over China for any visible signs of the Great Wall, but even viewing enlargements of these prints, looking at where the Wall should be, proved fruitless. The wall is made of stone or earth that matches the local landscape, and would only cast a long shadow under ideal lighting conditions. So, only with the eyes of Ed Lu can you see the Great Wall of China from space.

Endeavour glides in for its landing on Oct. 11, 1994, at Edwards AFB, CA. (NASA EC94-42789-1)

Just after wheels stop on Endeavour, I was to unstrap from my middeck seat and stand up. The blood pressure measurement gear would record my response to standing erect in 1-g, once again. I knew when the equipment was working when my left arm’s pressure cuff inflated, but it never recovered after touchdown. The taped data from entry, however, were good, and so was the audio tape I made as we rode back through the atmosphere. I have to give credit to the designers for creating a rig that would work inside our pressure suits, and yet still be easy enough to don and operate. After return to Houston, I sent the investigators an apology for the verbal tirade I recorded, grousing about the troubles I had getting the batteries replaced and activating the system. My only excuse was being up for a very long day…around 18 hours by the time we landed, and we still had postflight medical tests to endure.

Drag chute DTO complete, Endeavour rolls out on Rwy. 22 at Edwards, with Baker and Wilcutt at the controls. (NASA EC94-42789-2)

STS-68 is a highlight of my speech, “Sky Walking: An Astronaut’s Journey” — contact me at http://www.astronauttomjones.com/#!tom-jones-speaking-testimonial/cfgv

STS-59, Endeavour, Space Radar Lab 1 — April 9-20, 1994 April 9, 2013

Twenty years ago, our STS-59 crew completed the Terminal Countdown Demonstration Test in preparation for our April 9 launch. At pad 39A, with Endeavour, are Rich Clifford, Kevin Chilton, Sid Gutierrez, Linda Godwin, Tom Jones (the sole rookie), and Jay Apt. Boy, was I excited: just over two weeks til launch! (NASA KSC-94PC-468)

Tom Jones with Endeavour’s SRB and ET stack on Launch Pad 39A. The orbiter is enclosed by the gray protective structure. (NASA ksc-394c-1160.22)

Our STS-59 crew during our countdown rehearsal on 3/23/94. Here we gather outside Endeavour’s hatch in the Pad 39A White Room. Left to right are Rich Clifford, Jay Apt, Linda Godwin, Tom Jones, Kevin Chilton, and Sid Gutierrez. (NASA KSC-394C-1160.09)

On Endeavour’s middeck, Linda Godwin (right) and I wait out the Terminal Countdown Demonstration Test (TCDT) on 3/24/94. I caught a brief nap during the 3-hour mock countdown. (NASA photo by Andy Thomas).

Endeavour rises toward its 57-deg inclination orbit at sunrise on April 9, 1994. (NASA)

I’ve written about the Space Radar Lab 1 mission, STS-59, in my book, “Sky Walking: An Astronaut’s Memoir.” But here I’ll add some details not included in the book, and some of the many hundreds of photos our crew returned to preserve our memories of these superb 11 days in space. I’ll add thoughts and photos during the coming eleven days, with the idea that the post can become an archive for the STS-59 crew and team.

As soon as we entered quarantine in late March in Houston, shuttle managers postponed the April 7 launch a day for engine turbopump inspections. Then our first launch attempt on April 8 was postponed because of high winds at Kennedy Space Center, violating the runway crosswind limits for the orbiter in case of an emergency return to the Cape. Our crew sat strapped in on the pad for about five hours as we waited for the winds to abate, but they never did. The parachute pack and its emergency oxygen bottles become extremely annoying after five hours strapped in the seat. The scrub under clear blue skies was a disappointment, but we were coming back the next day.

This was my first space shuttle launch, and it lived up to my expectations in every day. Jolts, rumbles, screaming slipstream penetrating the cabin walls, 2.5 g’s during first stage–I could barely register all the physical and emotional sensations during the 8.5 minutes of ascent. I was gratified to have Linda Godwin seated to my left on the middeck — a veteran and friend I could turn to for reassurance during this vibration-filled ride to orbit. We were smiling the whole time, but behind the smile is a lot of prayer. After a full minute at 3 g’s, with the Mach meter at 25, I thanked God when we arrived in orbit–Main Engine Cut-Off–and weightlessness.

The 16mm movie camera in Endeavour’s left ET umbilical well caught the left-side SRB separating at about 2 minutes into our ascent, ~ Mach 4. You can see the forward booster separation motors still firing. (NASA STS059-16ET-1577)

Sid, Jay, Rich, Kevin, Linda, and I were about to experience an incredibly rewarding Mission to Planet Earth.

Just out of my suit on the middeck of Endeavour, helping other crewmembers get unsuited and into “orbit” clothes. 4/9/94 (NASA)

The Space Radar Lab 1 payload in Endeavour’s cargo bay. Three cutting-edge radar instruments, a CO pollution monitor, and a terrific view of the Aurora Australis. (NASA)

Our job on SRL-1, STS-59, was to act as the space component of the Space Radar Lab science team, deployed all over the world. We commanded the orbiter to point at our 400+ science targets, monitored the maneuver execution “flown” by Endeavour’s computers after our data entries, changed high rate recorder data tapes, and took voluminous science photography to provide “ground truth” about environmental conditions that might affect the radar return from the science targets. Our crew split into two shifts, Red and Blue, to run SRL around the clock. Linda Godwin led the activation on flight day 1. The Blue Shift woke up about 10 hours into the flight and took over for our first full science shift — Jay, Rich, and me. Linda, Sid, and Kevin went promptly to bed after a very long day. We soon settled into our 12-hour shift routines and explored the world for another ten days.

Rich Clifford inserts a data storage cassette into one of our 3 high rate recorders. Each tape cassette held 50 Gb of data. We carried more than 100 onboard, with a tape change about every 30 mins for 11 days. (NASA STS059-09-12)

STS-59 crew: (L to R) Linda Godwin, Kevin Chilton, Tom Jones, Jay Apt, Sid Gutierrez, Rich Clifford. (NASA)

Our crew had 14 different cameras aboard to document our science targets. A big Linhof shot a 4×5-inch negative, using box magazines which we reloaded in a light-tight bag every night. We had four Hasselblads with 70mm film, each armed with a different lens for science photography (40mm, 100mm, 250mm, and an infrared filter atop a 250mm lens). We used Nikons for in-cabin photography using 35mm film. And we used payload bay video cameras to record the swath being seen by the radar with each data take. Here’s a shot of one of our “Decade Volcano” targets, the Philippines’ Mt. Pinatubo.

Mt. Pinatubo in the Philippines, which erupted in 1991, sends ash flows surging downslope under seasonal rains. Note the emerald green crater lake at the summit. (NASA STS059-L14-170)

Kevin Chilton and Linda Godwin shoot science targets on the Red Shift aboard Endeavour. (NASA sts059-13-030)

Frozen, volcanic Onekotan Island, Russia, in the Kuriles south of Kamchatka. April 14, 1994. (NASA STS059-219-065)

Tom Jones reloads Linhoff magazines, a daily challenge, on Endeavour’s middeck. (NASA sts059-8-23)

Each work shift on the aft flight deck was run on the clock: a constant stream of orbiter maneuvers, recorder tape changes, and intense video and still photo sessions focused on the science targets below (or above, from our point of view on the flight deck). We took turns entering the maneuvers on the flight plan into Endeavour’s computers, changing and managing the 50 Gb tape cassettes, and spotting and documenting science targets with our cameras. After each target we typed entries into a laptop documenting the weather, dust, and precipitation conditions over the science site. Night passes were a bit calmer, because the photography requirements went away for the most part. We also called down fires and other environmental phenomena of interest to the Measurement of Air Pollution from Satellites team. In between, we grabbed snacks and established comm with HAM radio operators around the globe. One generous HAM arranged to patch me through on a phone call to Liz, back in Houston. We spoke clearly across the miles; me over Hawaii, Liz with the kids back in Houston, until Endeavour carried me over the horizon. Priceless.

Linda Godwin, Kevin Chilton (left) and Sid Gutierrez have breakfast and read flight plan changes on Endeavour’s middeck. Work shifts were 12 hours, with 8 hours for sleep. The balance was spent on exercise, meals, and housekeeping. (NASA STS059-05-07)

One of Jay Apt’s best photos of the Aurora Australis from STS-59. The radar antennae are to the left, the Canadarm I robot arm on the right. (NASA)

One of my favorite lunch items — irradiated grilled chicken breast, mustard, 2 warm tortillas = chicken flying saucer sandwich (TM). (NASA STS059-19-020)

From Endeavour’s commander, USAF Col. (ret.) Sid Gutierrez:
Great! My best memories are of the crew and the Southern Aurora. It was a great group of folks to work with both on the ground and in Space. I remember the comment Linda made during an interview that generated that strange response from the ground. I would like to forget about the air in the water and everything that went with that. Chili falling asleep on the middeck while sending Emails late at night. Jay maneuvering the vehicle under Chili’s watchful eye. Rich and I waiting for anyone to get sick so we could actually give a real shot. I remember your enthusiasm at seeing all of it the first time and your incessant comments into the tape recorder so you could piece all this together later. And I remember the incredible feeling as we blacked out the lights and floated through the Sothern Aurora – like passing thorough something that was alive. But most of all I remember being able to eat a juicy hamburger with tomato and lettuce after we landed and then heading home to wives, husband and all the kids. Great memories! (April 12, 2013)

Endeavour commander Sid Gutierrez on the flight deck during with one of our Hasselblads. Earth is the unbeatable backdrop. (NASA sts059-19-004)

The varied science targets across the globe required all of us to learn many aspects of Earth system science: geology, volcanology, forestry, ecology, hydrology, oceanography, agriculture, pollution monitoring, desertification, and radar remote sensing theory, among others. One of my favorite “others” was archaeology, where our team used the SIR-C and X-SAR radars to probe dry sands and soils and reveal traces of ancient cultures beneath. The experiment mapped extensive “radar river” drainages beneath the Saharan sands, traced the Silk Road along the margin of the Takla Makhan desert, and zeroed in on caravan routes to the lost trading city of Ubar on the Arabian peninsula. Aboard Endeavour we carried a 200,000-year-old hand axe, recovered by USGS colleague Jerry Schaber in the 1980s from the banks of one of the Egyptian radar rivers. There aboard the most sophisticated technological tool of the late 20th century, we contemplated a floating example of the “high tech” used by Homo Erectus back when the Sahara was a grassy savannah, teeming with game. What technology will we possess in another 200 millennia? Will the space shuttle even be remembered? I, for one, can never forget it!

South coast of the Alaska Peninsula, with the C-shaped island enclosing Sosbee Bay, in sunglint. (NASA STS059-214-001)

Just out of frame on the left of this Alaska coastline is Veniaminoff volcano, one of the many active peaks on the peninsula. Here we see ocean currents and eddies made visible by the reflected sunlight, corroboration of ocean surface features observed by the radar lab. What a visual treat as well.

Our view from 120 miles up as we soar over Gibraltar, Spain, and Morocco. Snow caps the Atlas and Sierra Nevada ranges in Africa and Europe. (NASA sts059-238-074)

An early human hurled this axe at his prey along the banks of a stream in southern Egypt, perhaps 200,000 years ago. The USGS lent us this tool as we used our Radar Lab to map possible habitats of these ancient people, now hidden by the sands of the arid Sahara. (NASA sts-059-42-18)

The Blue Shift — Jay, Rich, and Tom — enjoys a meal after a shift on the flight deck. We generally had about 2.5 hours after finishing work to eat, clean up, and take care of middeck chores before hitting the sleep stations. (NASA sts059-14-06)

Our early spring view of the Alaskan coastal ranges, fronting the Inside Passage, was glorious. Our radar imaged glaciers around the world, like these near Mt. St. Elias, to help estimate their velocity downhill. STS059-228-94

Jay Apt shoots one of our science targets through Endeavour’s overhead windows. Mounted in the adjacent window was a large-format Linhof camera, taking a strip of overlapping photos to map each target. (NASA sts059-46-025)

An example of our crew science photography is shown below. This frame came from our 250mm lens on the large-format Linhof camera, mounted in the starboard overhead window of Endeavour’s flight deck. Sometimes we used the other Linhof body and shot handheld frames, just sighting over the lens barrel at the ground below. The Linhof magazines contained about 100 shots, and we had to reload them from film canisters while “off shift” on the middeck.

Vertical view of Strait of Gibraltar. Spain to lower left. Morocco to upper right. Note current flow in strait and along coast. The advantages of Gibraltar’s harbor are plain to see. (STS059-L19-837)

These bunks were on the starboard side of Endeavour’s middeck, stacked 4-high. Since each shift, Red and Blue, was off duty for 12 hours, we hot-bunked in the top three and used the bottom bunk for storage. Each station contained a reading light, fresh air vent, sliding privacy door, and a fleece sleeping bag. As this was my first flight, I didn’t realize that there were two bags in each bunk, clipped one atop the other, so I think I just hot-bunked in the same bag as Chili, probably. I slept in long pants, a T-shirt, and sweater, as it was a bit cool in the bunk. I even stuffed a sock in the vent to cut down on the cold breeze at “night.” I drifted off to sleep most nights with a Walkman playing a cassette for a few minutes; more than once I woke up to find the player drifting above my face, still delivering some soft music. In the morning, it would be tough to find the door in the pitch-dark compartment: turning over in the bag in free-fall meant that I had no way to determine which way was down, up, or the side that held the door. Groping around to find the reading light would usually set me straight. I had these bunks on three of my missions–they were quite comfortable, quiet, and private for sleep.

The SRL-1 Red Shift of Sid Gutierrez, Linda Godwin, and Kevin Chilton (bottom) prepares for their cozy night in Endeavour’s sleep stations. (NASA STS059-22-004)

May 2013: I just returned from a trip to the Mediterranean, and viewed Mt. Vesuvius from the Bay of Naples and the lovely town of Sorrento, Italy. Here is the incredible view of this active volcano from our SRL-1 imager. Vesuvius last erupted in 1944, nearly 70 years ago. It is long overdue for another outburst. Three million people live in the Naples area. Evacuation will be a huge challenge. May the mountain sleep for a long time.

Mt. Vesuvius, one of the best known volcanoes in the world primarily for the eruption that buried the Roman city of Pompeii, is shown in the center of this radar image. The central cone of Vesuvius is the dark purple feature in the center of the volcano. This cone is surrounded on the northern and eastern sides by the old crater rim, called Mt. Somma. Recent lava flows are the pale yellow areas on the southern and western sides of the cone. Vesuvius is part of a large volcanic zone which includes the Phalagrean Fields, the cluster of craters seen along the left side of the image. The Bay of Naples, on the left side of the image, is separated from the Gulf of Salerno, in the lower left, by the Sorrento Peninsula. Dense urban settlement can be seen around the volcano. The city of Naples is above and to the left of Vesuvius; the seaport of the city can be seen in the top of the bay. Pompeii is located just below the volcano on this image. The rapid eruption in 79 A.D. buried the victims and buildings of Pompeii under several meters of debris and killed more than 2,000 people. Due to the violent eruptive style and proximity to populated areas, Vesuvius has been named by the international scientific community as one of fifteen Decade Volcanoes which are being intensively studied during the 1990s. The image is centered at 40.83 degrees North latitude, 14.53 degrees East longitude. It shows an area 100 kilometers by 55 kilometers (62 miles by 34 miles.) This image was acquired on April 15, 1994 by the Spaceborne Imaging Radar-C/X-Band Synthetic Aperture Radar (SIR- C/X-SAR) aboard the Space Shuttle Endeavour. SIR-C/X-SAR, a joint mission of the German, Italian and the United States space agencies, is part of NASA’s Mission to Planet Earth.
P-45742 July 13, 1995

SRL-1 added to our knowledge of the Earth’s impact history, by examining scars left by collisions with asteroids and comets. Here is the Aorounga impact cratter in northern Chad. Although the main crater (shown here) is visible to astronauts from orbit, our radar scans revealed (beneath the sands) two additional candidate craters. Aorounga may be a crater chain, caused by the impact of a string of comet fragments, or an asteroid accompanied by a couple of moonlets. I spent hours searching the landscape below for the circular forms  of impact craters; it’s a pattern the human eye easily locks onto from orbit.

The impact of an asteroid or comet several hundred million years ago left scars in the landscape that are still visible in this spaceborne radar image of an area in the Sahara Desert of northern Chad. The concentric ring structure is the Aorounga impact crater, with a diameter of about 17 kilometers (10.5 miles). The original crater was buried by sediments, which were then partially eroded to reveal the current ring-like appearance. The dark streaks are deposits of windblown sand that migrate along valleys cut by thousands of years of wind erosion. The dark band in the upper right of the image is a portion of a proposed second crater. Scientists are using radar images to investigate the possibility that Aorounga is one of a string of impact craters formed by multiple impacts. Radar imaging is a valuable tool for the study of desert regions because the radar waves can penetrate thin layers of dry sand to reveal details of geologic structure that are invisible to other sensors. The image was acquired by the Spaceborne Imaging Radar-C/X-band Synthetic Aperture Radar (SIR-C/X-SAR) on April 18 and 19, 1994, onboard the space shuttle Endeavour. The area shown is 22 kilometers by 28 kilometers (14 miles by 17 miles) and is centered at 19.1 degrees north latitude, 19.3 degrees east longitude. North is toward the upper right. The colors are assigned to different radar frequencies and polarizations as follows: red is L-band, horizontally transmitted and received; green is C-band, horizontally transmitted and received; and blue is C-band, horizontally transmitted, vertically received. SIR-C/X-SAR, a joint mission of the German, Italian and United States space agencies, is part of NASA’s Mission to Planet Earth program. P-46712 March 20, 1996

Flight Day 9 called for a thorough pre-landing check of our reentry systems. The pilots, with Rich, our flight engineer and MS-2, stepped through hydraulic systems, flight computers, auxiliary power units (APSs), and thrusters to verify proper operation. We observed systematic thruster firings from the flight deck, and watched our elevons on the wing trailing edges rise and fall, driven by the now-awakened APU’s and hydraulic systems. Endeavour was coming fully alive; all was in readiness for entry the next day.

On Flight Day 9, Sid, Chili, and Rich ran through our flight control system checkout on Endeavour’s flight deck.
NASA STS059-12-035.

Landing for our STS-59 crew came too soon, after 11 days in orbit. We had planned a 9-day mission, but our flight control team anticipated that power conservation aboard Endeavour would extend our mission to ten full days. Good power management by our payload team and Mission Control (and our keeping the lights and electricity consumption to a minimum in the cabin) secured that extra day. Our reentry was planned for April 19, but Kennedy Space Center weather prevented a return to the Florida landing site. We waved off the landing and returned to limited Earth observations for a final day; my Blue Shift went to bed immediately for 6-8 hours, then took over from our Red Shift for final cabin stowage and payload deactivation.

On April 20, weather at Kennedy was still NO-GO, so we targeted Edwards AFB in California for landing. Our crew was disappointed to not be heading for our families in Florida, but satisfied to be heading back to Earth with our successful science mission completed. Reentry over the nighttime Pacific was a spectacular experience–the plasma pulsing around our cockpit windows provided a mesmerizing light show that I’ll never see equaled. I was perched upstairs in the MS-1 seat next to Rich Clifford, MS-2. We aided the pilots, Sid and Kevin, as they guided Endeavour into southern California and our line-up for landing at Edwards.

Entry plasma seen through the overhead windows of the shuttle flight deck. NASA S08-102-2835

Ripping over the California coast at more than Mach 5, it seemed to me that we’d never slow down enough to make the Edwards runway–I agreed with Sid’s assessment that “we’re headed for a landing in Arkansas!” But our flight computers were right on the money. Sid took control and put us gently on the concrete of Runway 22, an exhilarating touchdown for all of us aboard. Read about the entire return to Earth in “Sky Walking: An Astronaut’s Memoir.” Great landing, Sid and Kevin! Thanks a million for bringing us all home.

The main landing gear of the Space Shuttle Endeavour touches down at Edwards Air Force Base to complete the 11 day STS-59/SRL-1 mission. Landing occurred at 9:54 a.m., April 20, 1994. Mission duration was 11 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes. NASA image. NASA STS059(S)07

From the MS-1 seat, I shot video of our reentry aboard Endeavour. Jay took this shot after landing from the middeck ladder on the port side. STS059-47-11

Post-landing, I felt laden with extra weight, as if my launch and entry suit were made of lead. That video camera feels like fifty pounds. Getting out of the seat took every bit of strength I could muster; I had to force my muscles to slide over and lower my “two-ton” body down the ladder.

Jay Apt on the middeck took this shot of the ground crew at Edwards opening Endeavour’s hatch after our April 20 landing. NASA STS059-47-22

The ground crew is the first to sample the interior atmosphere of our sealed spacecraft, after six people have lived in that volume for 11 days. Our noses were used to any aromas, but they no doubt smelled the combined odors of our wet trash bin, the shuttle waste control system compartment, our dirty laundry, and six bodies who hadn’t showered in more than 10 days. They may have wanted to just close that hatch up again!

Shuttle Atlantis’ New Home at KSC March 8, 2013

Speaking to the “space-going “public at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex at Cape Canaveral, FL, I find the energy level among visitors is already pretty high. But it’s about to get a tremendous boost when the Space Shuttle Atlantis exhibit opens on June 29, 2013. I visited the construction site this week and was amazed at the way Atlantis will be displayed to the public.

Visiting Atlantis on March 5, 2013. (Tom Jones)

Atlantis was the last space shuttle orbiter I would fly, on STS-98, so even shrink-wrapped as she is, I am still moved when visiting the ship that took me to space, kept me alive to work at the International Space Station, and returned me safely to my family.  Delaware North, the company that runs NASA’s visitor complex here, is spending about $85 million to give visitors an up close and personal look at the orbiter. She’ll almost be close enough to touch, and Atlantis is positioned in a steep left bank, giving guests a breath-taking sense of her impressive wingspan.

Entering the building, guests will get a capsule history of the space shuttle’s history from its designers and astronauts, then a high-def introduction to Atlantis’ storied career, beginning with her first flight in 1985. Leaving the theater, visitors will walk “through the screen” to view the orbiter as she looked when in orbit. Close at hand will be a mockup of the Hubble Space Telescope. A wide ramp will enable visitors to spiral down and around the orbiter to see Atlantis, her cargo bay, windows and cabin, wings, engines, and heat shield tiles from every angle. Beneath the orbiter will be a roomy plaza, where guests will enter the Shuttle Launch Experience simulation. With blast-off under their belts, visitors will exit to a simulation bay where a future space traveler can try one’s own hand at flying and landing the space shuttle.

Atlantis’ immense heat-shield-tiled belly, towering above visitors. (Tom Jones)

You’ll have to drag me out of Atlantis’ presence–it’s going to be that good!

Remember, before leaving Atlantis’ home, pick up a copy of my story detailing my Atlantis mission to the ISS on STS-98, and my three other missions: Sky Walking: An Astronaut’s Memoir.

http://www.AstronautTomJones.com