Epic of the Cuban Doppler-8. "Per aspera ad astra," or When the Mambo Gets Rough

"Epic of the Cuban Doppler-8" tells the breathless chapter where Cuban engineers, after the blockade of the British analog receivers, managed to dodge every obstacle to complete the Doppler radar. This episode recounts how they got high-quality measurement instruments thanks to a Canadian donation of 110 thousand USD, how they developed an electrical protection system that made the radar immune to lightning strikes after Zeus's attack on four radars, and how Intelcan found a small manufacturer who assembled the analog receivers to the Cuban design. Learn of the final odyssey: Leonardo and the author's trip to test the receivers in 2010, and how the critical components slipped into Cuba in their luggage, dodging the blockade.

"Per aspera ad astra, or when the mambo gets rough" —a title that evokes the Latin maxim "per aspera ad astra" (through hardship to the stars)— tells how the LADETEC team, when all seemed lost after the blockade of the British analog receivers, found a way to complete the Doppler puzzle. The chapter opens with Intelcan's sharp perception, which identified a critical gap: precision measurement instruments in the microwave range, whose cost —110 thousand USD— threatened to make the project more expensive. The author, in a surreal scene, found himself explaining the project to an ambassador in shirtsleeves and old sneakers during a reception at the embassy, managing to get the Canadian Cooperation Agency to donate exactly that amount. But fate struck with fury: in early 2009, lightning strikes badly damaged four of the modernized radars (except the one in Camagüey, where work on the Doppler was underway), exposing a vulnerability that had to be tackled before the prototype was even born. With support from ICID and ECOSOL Electric, they developed a full protection and grounding system that made the Cuban Weather Radar immune to electrical discharges —"it can run even with lightning bolts falling point-first," in the author's words. And then, when "the mambo got rough," Intelcan found a tiny company —just the owner and a secretary— that, following the Cuban design, assembled the analog receivers with top-quality components. In the summer of 2010, Leonardo (Ichi) and the author traveled to test them over 15 intensive days, checking every circuit and having fun "ruffling the feathers of their beloved electronic offspring." The final touch: the Intelcan executive, in a gesture worthy of a spy movie, pulled the critical components out of the receiver, handed them to the author, and said —"you two carry those in your luggage and mix them in with common-use components"— thus getting the parts most hunted by the blockade into Cuba. But the reader shouldn't relax yet: still to be tested were the Russian magnetrons, the heating power supplies, and the modulator —and like Scheherazade, the author leaves topics for other nights, since it wasn't 1001 but more than 2880 sleepless nights until the radar started up.

In chapter 7 I left you hanging with an unsolved problem: the matter of the analog receivers (also called receiver front-end). Of course, my sharp-eyed reader already knows we built not one but three Doppler radars, what you want to know is how we kept solving the many problems along the way. Easy now, we were (and still are) just a small group of engineers, and we've had to face many problems, on the road to the Dopplers and beyond the question of Doppler or not.

And what about the measurement instruments?

Intelcan, from the start, did a very thorough survey of the whole task and of all our capabilities (and shortfalls). Very correctly, the Intelcan people realized we needed quality instruments and tools.

Tools, well, those are cheap; but precision instruments in the microwave range (I mean signal generator and spectrum analyzer) — now that's a small fortune. When Intelcan presented the offer I hit the roof, it drove up the project's cost and pushed it past 400 thousand USD. No —I said firmly, we're sticking with the old Soviet generators. Intelcan wasn't willing to budge, because they knew that the quality of the Doppler and the speed at which we'd work depended on the quality of the instruments.

So they "roped me in," set me up, and suddenly there I was, in shirtsleeves, jeans, and worn-out sneakers, at a lavish reception in the embassy, explaining our Doppler project to an ambassador — believe me, it was a surreal scene. And it worked. The Canadian Cooperation Agency gave us a donation of 110 thousand USD, which was exactly the amount needed for the top-of-the-line instruments. If you want to have a laugh and then get sad, read my post Ambassador.

On top of that … Zeus messing with us

As fate would have it, in early 2009 (the course in England had been in July 2008), four of our radars were severely damaged by lightning strikes and all the automation was wrecked. Let me remind my readers that since 2006 the seven old Cuban radars had already been modernized, automated, and computerized (the images were shown on the Internet). Fortunately, the radar in Camagüey at Loma de la Mula, on which we were working and developing all the Doppler circuitry, had not been hit.

Still, the real possibility terrified us. What if a lightning strike suddenly torched this investment in one fatal instant? An ugly business, having to go toe-to-toe again with the octopus with several brains and many tentacles (yes, OK, a bit far-fetched an expression, but everyone knows I'm talking about the blockade).

On the other hand, although to the reader this may seem a bit removed from the Doppler, to us it wasn't. Let me remind my reader that LADETEC, since 2003, was not only the Technical Development Laboratory founded by our much-beloved minister Rosa Elena — we were also the operational arm of the Weather Radar Surveillance Service in Cuba. It fell to us to restore those radars and, as always, to use technological innovation as our technical-service resource.

Throughout this series on the Cuban Doppler I've stressed that we designed and built the prototype Cuban Weather Radar (with Doppler capability), and that's what we'd been doing since 1997 — long before Rubiera and Fidel ever spoke of it. This radar was automated, modernized, computerized with an IoT approach since 2000, and above all … sustainable. Suddenly this massive Zeus onslaught served to show us that the future Doppler had a vulnerability that needed to be tackled before the brand-new prototype was even born.

We pulled it off, Chomi, the new minister, put ICID and ECOSOL Electric to work on our problem and we got an extraordinary result: the Cuban Weather Radar (Doppler or not) can run even if «rail spikes are falling point-first» on the radar. Since 2010 it has been implemented in all our radars, which no longer shut down when there's an electrical storm over the station. I'm not boasting, but the radars at Casa Blanca, Pico San Juan and Pilón, located at sites with high isokeraunic levels (thunderstorm-day frequency), have never again failed from lightning strikes (while plenty of other equipment around them does fail, especially at the Instituto de Meteorología headquarters in Casa Blanca).

If you'd like more detail, read the post Cuban Weather Radar (Doppler). Fighting Electrical Discharges. The Cuban Weather Radar prototype came out stronger, with a power supply system, full protections, and groundings that make it immune to electrical discharges.

And the Mambo Got Tough

The phrase that titles this section, in popular Cuban and Latin American speech (perhaps a bit out of fashion today, since the days of the King of Mambo, the Cuban Dámaso Pérez Prado, are long gone), means a situation has turned intense, exciting, or difficult. And that's exactly what was happening with the Doppler's development, already heading into its sixth year. Those close to me know I use the phrase for more than that alone — this was a very important «mambo».

After the failure with Pascall Electronics Ltd. in 2008, Intelcan didn't give up and kept searching, doggedly, for someone who could buy the components and assemble our design for the receivers (S and X bands). I remember their executive telling me —Orlando, from the start we knew this would be very hard. When Fidel speaks, the embargo officials sit down, listen to him, and take notes. They'd been waiting for us from the beginning. But he who perseveres, wins. They found a small company, a tiny one, just the owner and a secretary-bookkeeper (who would eventually hire one or several helpers, as many as each job required), that built the order — that is, our design for the analog receivers. In Cuba, that company wouldn't even qualify as a MIPYME (Cuba's small/medium private-enterprise category), more like a self-employed worker.

In the summer of 2010, Leonardo-Ichi and I traveled to run every kind of test on the receivers they'd built. The One-Man Company, a highly experienced assembly technician, had acquired the components (God knows how — remember that for some of these components the manufacturer required a reliable, verifiable end-use declaration) and had assembled everything following our design and specifications. It was a pleasant surprise: clean, flawless work, with components all of the highest quality.

Still, although Arturo, Leonardo, and I had taken great care with the theory and the calculations in the design, in the end we had to let practice, as we learned from Marx, have the last word. Much water had flowed under the bridge since that postgraduate study back in 1993; each of us had grown enormously as an expert, and we'd also had the Holguín radar as a practical example.

The Company-Man didn't look like he made much money — he drove a beat-up old car (the door would swing open on its own on curves) and dressed modestly. He had no great theoretical knowledge and couldn't test the receivers himself, but he knew every single component he had bought and assembled down to the last detail. First, logically, we checked that everything had been built and assembled according to our circuit schematics.

Leonardo and I were tremendously creative — yes, you already know my modesty always lies battered on the floor — everything we had ever read and studied about radar receivers, we verified right there in practice. The receivers really were what we had designed, and in practice they behaved exactly as we wanted them to in the Cuban Weather Radar, on par with the best in the world.

We tested everything humanly verifiable on a receiver, even what wasn't so relevant — we simply enjoyed "roughing up" our beloved, long-awaited "electronic children." We were there 15 days and made the most of every single minute. Yes, besides verifying, we learned and confirmed what we already knew in theory. It was a real pleasure, no denying it. Years later, in other countries, Leonardo had the chance to show off his erudition in these matters. As for me, well… I keep that tucked away in some drawer of my brain, in case I finally write the book I still dream of writing, the one I drop brushstrokes of here on the blog.

Just in case …

The blockade is a pulp.. well, I think I already said that, didn't I? Once our exhaustive tests were finished, the Intelcan executive came, pulled a few components out of the receivers (the critical ones, the ones that must show pedigree), placed them in my hands and told me — you all carry these in your luggage and mix them in with other common electronic components. That's how the parts most hunted down by the blockade finally made it into Cuba, to build the prototype Cuban Doppler Radar.

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We already had the analog receivers and the digital receivers. Don't get excited, and don't relax either, my tense reader. This picture isn't over yet. Remember, I told you in earlier chapters that we still had to check whether we could use the Russian magnetrons, the filament power supplies, the high-voltage power supplies, and the thyratron modulator from the MRL-5 radar — or whether we'd have to buy those (and drive up the project's cost). As I told you, during my internships I'd asked every expert I could about these things. Only practice would give us the answer; but to test all of that, we needed the receivers up and running.

Relax, my faithful reader, there's fun for a while yet. Unpleasant surprises were also waiting for us, ones that would very seriously endanger the practical achievement of the Doppler; but like Scheherazade, I have to leave some topics for other nights — and those weren't 1001 nights, they were more than 2880 sleepless nights before the radar finally started up.