BONNEVILLE SALT FLATS — They are made of cardboard tubes, fiberglass and wood, but they're not toys. The homemade rockets that have been screaming into the atmosphere since Friday are hands-on science.
In her children's case, said Ester Codella, Salt Lake City, the science comes in "teaching the kids about thrust and acceleration and the whole thing."
She and the youngsters were relaxing in the shade of a canopy set up on the Salt Flats, one of a line of many tents and sun screens. The shelters stuck above a hard white surface with a popcorn texture, which crunched when anyone walked past.
An estimated 100 rocketeers and 200 spectators were present for the eighth annual "Hellfire" rocket meet, sponsored by the Utah Rocket Club. The session, on the Utah side of the Nevada line, began Friday and was to end Monday.
Lounging beneath canvas, displaying missiles on folding tables, club members swapped rocket tales and checked specifications of motors and fins.
On loudspeakers, an announcer would describe a rocket's specifications. "OK, on Pad 22 . . . We've got continuity. On 5, 4, 3, 2 — launch."
Suddenly a rocket would snarl loudly into the bright blue sky. As it rose swiftly at the top of an expanding column of white smoke, short orange flames blossoming behind the tube, everyone — vendors, hamburger cooks, launch officers, rocketeers, children, adult spectators — would watch. It climbed, curving, above the flats.
They stood with hands up to shield their faces from the sun, straining to see the small missile in the huge sky. Then someone would yell, "There's the chute!" All watched to see where it would land. And people resumed talking.
Codella said rocket enthusiasts use computers to calculate flights in advance so they will know how high a rocket will go, what type of motor to use, and how to configure the parachute.
Asked how many rockets he brought, her friend, Mitch Adamson, joked, "Too many." Adamson, South Jordan, has been making rockets for the past year.
"At least 20," said his mother, Marilynn Adamson, South Jordan.
Mitch Adamson wore an American flag tucked under his long-billed hat to protect himself from the relentless sun. He said he likes the speed of rockets. "I launched one today that went over 1,000 miles an hour," he said.
"Our house is filled with rockets, and we don't throw away a tube of anything, even toilet paper tubes, that can be used for making rockets," his mom noted.
Cecil Adamson, her husband and Mitch's father, said the younger man "turned our basement into a rocket factory . . . and two-thirds of the garage.
"See, he told me he wanted rockets and I thought he said Rockettes, and I told him to fill the house full!"
Dan Holmes, vice president of the Utah Rocket Club, said the meet normally has a waiver that allows models to reach 10,000 feet altitude. But for record attempts, like that of the Black Sunshine rocket that could break 24,000 feet, the group obtains a Federal Aviation Administration waiver that accommodates higher shots.
"I won't launch unless I see no butts in chairs," warned Steve Lacroix, launch control officer, speaking on the loudspeaker. For a big rocket's blast-off, he wanted everyone standing so they could scamper out of the way should the rocket come down in the wrong place.
Randall Redd, 52, Salt Lake City, showed off a model rocket that looked like something Flash Gordon might pilot. It is the "rocket from the Galaxy Diner," he said.
A pharmacist in everyday life, he was one of the club's founders in 1981. He has fashioned many rockets since. This one was based on a design he came upon in the Galaxy Diner.
"I found this on their menu. . . . It had a nice shape to it. I think the rockets from the '50s are the best," Redd said.
In addition, he had whimsical rockets shaped like Snoopy on his doghouse, a bug (named "Bug Rogers") and a shark, all flyable. "I enjoy the challenge of designing something unique that can fly," he said.
His son, Andrew, 21, showed a "maple seed rocket" he built. It looks much like an ordinary rocket, but after it reaches its peak altitude, the wooden fins fall off and flutter to the ground, spinning like maple seeds.
When Frank Hunt returned from his second tour of duty in Vietnam, his wife Dot was taking a course on rocketry for continuing certification as an elementary school teacher.
"She was teaching a special ed class and they needed a lot of help, so we started getting them interested in space," he said.
Soon the adults were building rockets while the students were painting and naming them.
"We would launch them by teams," Hunt recalled. Along the way, the youngsters learned about science and teamwork.
Elizabeth Baker, 18 months old, was one of the youngest relaxing in the shade, but she already was an experienced rocket meet attendee.
"This is her second one," said her dad, club president Neal Baker. "She likes 'em. She liked to be here on the salt, seeing everybody."
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