Rocketry Planet

On the radio, launch director Pat Gordzelik counted down to the next liftoff.

"5-4-3-2-1, ignition," Mr. Gordzelik said.

As the nation prepared to celebrate Independence Day, about 2,000 spectators and more than 300 rocket enthusiasts from the U.S. and other countries gathered here about 40 miles southeast of Amarillo for the Tripoli Rocketry Association's annual launch.

Now in its 25th year, the association's Large Dangerous Rocket Ships six-day launch, as it is called, mainly attracts men. But a few women fly, too.

There are no prizes or money involved – just high-flying bragging rights for these rocketeers who build for months, spend thousands of dollars and trek for miles to retrieve the finished product when it returns from flight. There's even a Dallas Area Rocket Society with 200 members. And the Federal Aviation Administration opens up the airspace for the week, directing planes away from the area.

The missile-like creations range from 20 ounces to 500 pounds, reach altitudes of 30,000 feet or more and sometimes travel twice the speed of sound.

The Etgens and other members of the Houston Historic Pride in Rocketry club silently traced the tiny, twisting smoke trail with their fingers, straining their necks to follow the rocket as it parachuted to the ground.

Feverishly tossing small cardboard boxes behind him, Mr. Etgen, 42, returned to work, sliding a large cylindrical motor in place. A few feet away, his wife configured a satellite tracking system on her laptop that will go in the rocket's nose cone.

Known for having some of the "coolest," most sophisticated rockets, the Etgens spend their spare time at home building the missiles from scratch with fiberglass and a curing oven. They got into the launch shows about four years ago, and they have a reputation to protect at the Tripoli launch.

The couple met at the Colorado School of Mines, where they both studied geophysics. Mrs. Etgen now stays at home with their three daughters. "Frankly, it is a hobby mostly for the adults," Mr. Etgen said, as his wife instructed their daughters to squirt their water guns away from the rockets.

"Some people like to fly big, showy things," Mr. Etgen said. "I like to fly high."

So does Ky Michaelson. The 68-year-old is well known for shooting the first amateur rocket into space. It took four attempts over 10 years and finally happened in 2004.

"Going to heaven. That's the only way I'll ever break that thrill," Mr. Michaelson said. His other claim to fame: He built the hydrogen-peroxide-powered rocket dragster that stuntwoman Kitty O'Neil raced in the Mojave Desert in 1977.

The former Hollywood stunt man from Bloomington, Minn., puts rockets on everything. At his booth Friday, he showed off pictures of his rocket-powered scooters, backpacks, wheelchairs and toilets, to name a few. He even named his 6-year-old son Buddy Rocketman Michaelson.

Wired magazine put the launch at No.3 on its Best 10 North American Geek Fests list this year.

Most participants are OK with that. In fact, some were upset they didn't make No. 1.

"Considering I own a shirt that says "geek" across the front of it, I've kind of just accepted that," said Tim Sapp of Carrollton, a member of the Dallas group.

Sense of community

The rocketry passion shared by these men and women each year cultivates camaraderie as well.

When a Dallas Area Rocket Society member's house burned down recently, four group members showed up to help, said Mr. Sapp. They even gave him rocket gear to start over.

And after Mr. Sapp's wife, Beth, died in 2004, the group gave him a way to carry on a hobby that he and his wife had enjoyed together.

"The rocket community jam-packed the funeral," he said. "And it's only just because we flew rockets with them. We have no other connection with them."

The various groups gather at the launches each year to share the latest in motor sizes, epoxy glue and parachute material.

Although participation in the Large Dangerous Rocket Ships event has increased since its beginning, attendance has leveled off in the last two years. Many members attribute this to regulation by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, which classifies the main propellant as an explosive, said Ken Good of Pittsburgh and president of Tripoli's board of directors.

And some are turned off by the licensing process, which sets strict guidelines for storing and shipping the material, association members and vendors say.

Rich Marianos, a spokesman for the bureau, said the agency could not comment because of a lawsuit filed by Tripoli in 2000 on the classification.

Lofty ambitions

Mr. Good said that as rocketry has evolved, his association has adopted new safety practices, including a certification process. And getting certified, especially at the most advanced level, ranks about as high as getting married to some fliers.

Friends of John Bertka congratulated him as his rocket completed a successful flight Friday, earning him the right to fly bigger, complex rockets.

"When I saw it launch, I had goose bumps," said Mr. Bertka, 50, of El Paso. "But when I saw the parachute, I felt relief."

Like most participants here, Mr. Bertka enjoyed rockets as a kid but grew out of them. He got reacquainted with his childhood fancy after his son was born.

Mr. Etgen's obsession stems from a Christmas shopping trip with his oldest daughter, Christi, now 11. She selected one of the toy kits and "hated it," Mr. Etgen said. "But I thought, this is cool."

The Etgens did not make their 10 a.m. deadline Friday. But they managed to launch the purple rocket that afternoon.

Naturally, it landed on a power line.