3, 2, 1… Launch!

On June 13, I attended a rocket launching event, invited by our good friends John (Mick) and Sue McSherry-Jones and their son, John William (JW), who was a participant. I was interested for several reasons: I built model rockets as a youth, launching at the school soccer field in my hometown of Madison, WI; I heard a lot about JW’s rocketry experiences on our sailing trip in the BVI (post link: Dragonflyboating, 1/23/26); and it was a nice day, Kathleen was busy and it sounded like fun. 

At 9:15 AM, I arrived at the venue, located down a dirt road on Central Turf Farms near Forest Lake, MN. A sod vendor founded in 1988, Central Turf graciously allows rocketry events on their property, and the site is ideal—it’s open, isolated yet accessible, and covered with lush grass. Map link: Central Turf Farms, MN. Things were already buzzing when I arrived, with rockets flying and others being prepared. The event was sponsored by Tripoli Minnesota, the local prefecture of the Tripoli Rocketry Association, a global non-profit headquartered in Nebraska focused on promoting amateur high-powered rocketry. Web links: Tripoli Minnesota, Tripoli Rocketry Association. People of all ages, including families with three generations of rocketeers, were launching and retrieving rockets of all sizes. 

JW was there representing the University of Minnesota Rocket Team, a student-run organization dedicated to “providing its members with hands-on engineering experience by designing, building and launching high-powered rockets.” Web link: UMN Rocket Team. In support were two of JW’s teammates and Professor James Flaten, the teams’s faculty advisor from the Aerospace Engineering and Mechanics program within the College of Engineering. 

We hung out and watched the show while JW carefully assembled his rocket, named Night Fury (if memory serves, it’s a character from the movie How to Train your Dragon). There were range safety officers checking rockets, assigning launch pads, making announcements on the PA system and keeping the crowd entertained, although some of the humor only landed with insiders. When one rocket disintegrated shortly after takeoff, the comment “gosh, I’ve never seen an SS motor explode before” got a knowing chuckle from the crowd. As did multiple jabs at someone named Bob (apparently nicknamed “Mr. Excitement”) whenever a rocket malfunctioned—as several did—when the countdown hit zero. 

We wolfed down a quick bratwurst from Brian’s Brats before JW’s launch just after Noon. His was the highest-flying rocket of the event so far, expected to reach 13,000 feet and travel at speeds of up to Mach 1.3 (about 1,000 mph). His launch was a certification flight, necessary for handling larger and more powerful rockets in the future. Today he was seeking his L2 level, which requires a successful launch, parachute descent and recovery of the rocket within a two-mile radius and in good enough condition to use it again. 

The day was sunny and breezy, with winds of 11-12 mph and gusts over 15, and there was concern about whether the two-mile criteria could be met with such a high combination of altitude and wind. Fun fact (not-so-fun in this instance): wind velocities at 13,000 feet can be 30-50% higher than on the ground due to less friction from shrubs, hills, trees and other surface irregularities. It was JW’s call and he decided to go for it.

Brock, JW and Night Fury head to the launch pad

The launch was loud and impressive and we soon lost sight of the rocket as it kept rising. There were two trackers installed, and sensors transmitted telemetry data to an app on JW’s phone. When the data indicated that the rocket had stopped moving, we jumped in our cars and followed the GPS signal. It was an imprecise process, and we backtracked a couple of times, but soon headed down a private road towards a large house east of the launch site. Someone came outside and immediately pointed to a nearby pine grove, where Night Fury was stuck in a tree, about 50 feet off the ground. The residents had heard the bang that deployed the main parachute and they began searching the sky, having a pretty good idea of what it was, living so close to the turf farm which held rocketry events. They couldn’t have been nicer, and offered to help with the retrieval if needed. Google Maps indicated that we were less than two miles away, so the L2 certification was still achievable, if we could recover the rocket. Professor Flaten was consulted and he brought his van with a ladder and extendable pole—equipment he’d obviously used before. After about an hour, a hook on the end of the pole was snagged to the shock cord connecting the rocket parts and parachutes. It took a fair bit of pulling, but the entire assembly (three rocket sections, two parachutes and the shock cord) eventually came down without any apparent damage. Back at the launch event, the range officers verified that everything was intact and JW would earn his L2 certification.

Tracking the flight

One parachute visible

Setting up the recovery pole

Got it!

Certified!

Bonus Question: Where do the names for the days of the week come from? (answers at end of post)

What goes up must come down

This one landed on the irrigator,
but was easily recovered.

Bonus Question Answers: The seven-day week dates back to the Babylonians, who first adopted it around 4,000 years ago, and it became somewhat standard under the Roman Empire. Days were named for the major visible celestial bodies and the deities associated with them.

Sunday: Sun’s Day. Pretty straightforward—the most culturally important day (rest, worship, etc.) was named for the most prominent body in the sky. 

Monday: Moon’s Day. Also straightforward—the second-largest heavenly body, influencer of the tides and illuminator of the night sky. Luna, the moon goddess, gave us Lunes (Spanish), Lundi (French) and Lunedi (Italian), among other languages. 

Tuesday: To the Romans, it was Mars’ Day, named after their god of war, who is still honored with Martes (Spanish), Mardi (French) and Martedi (Italian). Saxon and other Northern European cultures swapped out Mars for Tiw, their god of war, giving us Tiw’s Day.

Wednesday: Sticking with the planets, the Romans named this day after Mercury, the god of commerce and communication, resulting in Miercoles (Spanish), Mercredi (French) and Mercoledi (Italian). Again the Saxons substituted their own deity, Woden, their king of the gods, as did the Norse, with Odin, leading to Woden’s (or Odin’s) Day, and the most difficult day of the week to spell.

Thursday: This was Jupiter’s Day to the Romans, after their king of the gods, and Jovis (Latin), Jueves (Spanish) and Jeudi (French) come from this. The Saxons switched to Thor, their hammer-wielding god of thunder, giving us Thor’s Day.

Friday: A day for love and affection, it was Venus’ Day to the Romans—see Viernes (Spanish), Vendridi (French) and Venerdi (Italian)—but Frigg’s or Freya’s Day to the Norse and Saxons. Frigg was the wife of Odin and goddess of marriage and motherhood, while Freya was the goddess of love, beauty and fertility, and is often depicted driving a chariot pulled by two large cats. 

Saturday:  Saturn’s Day, named for the Roman god of agriculture, feasting and fun. Like Sunday and Monday, later civilizations did not make any changes.