How Everything’s Gone Wrong And Why I Don’t Mind— Chasing The Space Jellyfish, 4 Years In

Sometimes, things don’t go exactly as planned. Other times, nothing does at all.

Sightseeing

For over four years now, I’ve been trying to capture video of a Falcon 9 rocket launch. Ever since I saw footage of the twilight effect online in 2017, I’ve been determined to see it in person.

However, in order to see that giant cloud thingy, a lot of things have to go right. The skies have to be clear; atmospheric conditions optimal. And the launch time has to be 30–60 minutes before sunrise or after sunset.

Needless to say, there’s been countless duds.

A majority of launches never fell within those timeframes. The five or so that have were clouded out. Those that actually were optimal were scrubbed and delayed to another time.

For the times when I could’ve had a good chance of catching the plume, I forgot about launches entirely due to not-so-good life circumstances. The most recent jellyfish was in October 2022.

I’ve gotten some very lackluster images, but images nonetheless. However, they still haven’t matched up to the giant phenomenon you see posted online.

A few days ago though, there was a great opportunity.

There was a launch slated for about 9:30 PM, but it got aborted and moved to the next day a little after nine. That put it perfectly 30 minutes after sunset, and the skies were forecasted to be clear.

This was going to be the one. Or so I thought.

Everything Goes Wrong

So the night arrives. Things are looking pretty good. The skies were still free of clouds. And about 20 minutes before launch, I went out to the local field and set up my tripod.

The area was bathed in an orange glow as the last remnants of sunlight started to fade. Facing south, I pulled out my phone and watched the countdown continue to decrement.

Finally, the last seconds came in. I waited to see if there would be another abort, but everything went fine. The clock hit zero, and the foggy video feed was blasted out with an orange glow.

All there was to do now was wait.

After a couple of minutes, I caught a glimpse of a minuscule orange dot rising from the horizon into the night sky. I excitedly hit record on both of my cameras and tried to zoom into it.

With the subject being so small, I couldn’t get an image of it. Plus, the dot disappeared only seconds later. But after waiting a little more, the launch transitioned to the next phase.

Now, there was an ever so faint, small exhaust plume visible a little higher in the sky. I assumed that this would be the beginning of the spectacular “space jellyfish” I’ve only seen in photos.

But it never progressed from there.

It just remained as a barely visible, tiny tuft of smoke before disappearing. Nevertheless, I zoomed all the way in with my main camera and turned the exposure value to max.

So unfortunately, it seems like the phenomenon I was looking for didn’t occur, and so things didn’t go to plan in that regard. However, I still got a pretty cool view of the exhaust emanating from the rocket.

It was the best recording of it I had gotten so far, so I’d take it.

Except I didn’t actually get it.

So it turns out for some godforsaken reason, my camera wasn’t actually recording. I don’t know what the hell happened, because I pressed record and saw the icon change.

But I guess at some point the recording stopped. I looked through what had been captured, but only saw the backdrop of houses and a blank sky from the first minute. None of the zoomed-in shots I had seen were there.

I looked a couple more times hoping for at least a still. But it hadn’t captured even a single frame of it. Or even the little orange dot in the beginning.

There was nothing at all to see.

Not Again

This wasn’t the first time things went wrong. In December 2022, I was planning on staying up for a midnight launch. At the time, I was in San Diego, much closer to the launch site.

There were still a couple of hours left, and I was getting tired of waiting. So I figured I could just close my eyes so I wouldn’t be on the verge of collapsing.

And so being worn out from all the vacationing, I did exactly that. I reminisced on all of the sights we had seen in the past few days. And I had a moment of solace from the stressors of life.

That was pretty nice...

…

WAIT I’M SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING OUT FOR THE LAUNCH

I snapped out of my unconscious ruminations in a cold sweat, and picked up my phone to see how much time had passed. I was hoping it wasn’t already too lat-

It was already 2 AM.

S — -

So yeah, considering I had been up the last week, and the launch had been aborted and moved multiple times, I was pretty miffed that the one time it actually went through, I had conked out.

Furthermore, it irked me that I never seemed to be able to sleep well before, but the one time I actually needed to stay conscious, I did so almost effortlessly.

Sometimes, it seems like things never go right.

But what’s done is done.
At least, that’s what I told myself to feel better.

Oh Well

So yeah. Nothing went according to plan in this most recent attempt. Almost everything that could’ve gone wrong did. Despite that, I’m not too bothered about it.

Even though I didn’t get a digital recording of the moment, I still have my memories. I was able to see something with my own eyes, as well as an image enlargened on my camera screen. It wasn’t the full experience, but it was still pretty cool.

Due to all the failure, I think negativity bias actually is making that mental image stronger. So it should actually be easier to recall the details of what I saw that night because of it.

I think in this case, the negativity works to my advantage.

Furthermore, I likely won’t make these same mistakes anytime soon. I actually remember years ago, I also didn’t realize I wasn’t recording and lost the footage. I didn’t make that mistake again until now.

That all being said, there will be many more opportunities. There are launches every few weeks, so really it’s a matter of “when” rather than “if” I’ll see something again.

One does have to consider what the accomplishment of achieving my goal will bring anyway. Once I’ve gotten my perfect shot, I’ve got it forever. Therefore, I might have less motivation to go out and see it again.

There’s only one “first time” for everything.

Might as well enjoy it.

Perhaps the attempt, even without achieving the goal, is truly what makes this whole pursuit feel worthwhile. Not knowing whether this night will finally be the one where it happens.

If every single launch was spectacular, and everything went well all the time, it would get old pretty quickly. So I think I’m going to enjoy the adventures this hobby brings while I still can.

Many of my viewings since 2019 have bore nothing. But I’m getting closer. I might get that shot in the next few months. Or maybe it’ll take a couple more years for the conditions to line up perfectly for me.

But until then, I’ll keep searching for that orange dot in the sky.

Update — August 7th, 2023