From blast off to splashdown: My days following Nasa’s historic mission to the Moon

From Blast Off to Splashdown: A Journalist’s Journey Through NASA’s Historic Lunar Mission

Over the past ten days, four astronauts have etched their names into history, reaching farther into the cosmos than any humans have ventured before. Their mission—Artemis II—marked a significant leap, taking them on a round trip to the Moon. As a reporter, I’ve been immersed in every moment, from the initial launch to the tense landing and the eventual return. Before the rocket roared to life, the crew assured us that astronauts are typically composed on the day of liftoff. I, however, struggled to contain my fervor, and my reaction during the countdown became an internet sensation.

Positioned beside the countdown clock at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, alongside BBC News colleagues Alison Francis and Kevin Church, I witnessed the raw intensity of the moment. The blinding white light that demands your full attention, the thunderous noise that overwhelms you instantly, and the force of the blast that propels through your body were unforgettable. Yet, even amidst the chaos, I couldn’t fully comprehend that four individuals were clinging to a 98-meter-tall rocket, hurtling toward the Moon. As the crew—Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Christina Koch, and Jeremy Hansen—gazed down at Earth from above, Glover shared a heartfelt reflection:

“Planet Earth, you look beautiful.”

Once the spacecraft broke free from Earth’s orbit, the crew began their journey toward the Moon, covering a quarter of a million miles. Adjusting to microgravity, they shared glimpses of life inside their cramped capsule, which resembled a minibus in size. Privacy was a luxury they didn’t have, not even from the millions of viewers tracking their progress. The focus on their universal waste system, or “loo,” revealed its challenges. A $23 million design had plumbing issues, and during a media briefing, the astronauts’ struggles with “number ones and number twos” were laid bare. It turned out that “number twos” were manageable, but for “number ones,” the crew relied on collapsible devices—essentially bags with funnels.

Back in Houston, the mission control team at Johnson Space Center monitored every system, from navigation to life support. Their vigilance was crucial, as this was the first time humans had flown on both the rocket and the spacecraft. The risks were real, and the emotional weight of the mission was felt deeply. During a podcast interview with Jeremy Hansen while he was in quarantine, he confessed to discussing the possibility of not returning with his family. Reid Wiseman, a single father since his wife’s passing six years ago, also shared honest conversations with his daughters about the dangers of the mission. That loss became a powerful moment, as the crew, visibly moved, gathered to embrace their commander and friend as the Moon loomed larger in their view.

As the spacecraft neared its destination, the lunar surface revealed new details. The crew named a bright Earth-visible crater after Reid’s late wife, Carroll, a gesture that brought tears to everyone’s eyes. Mission control, too, was touched, with no one remaining dry-eyed. Every individual connected to NASA—be it its leader Jared Isaacman, the astronauts, or the engineers—expressed unwavering support for the team. The mission’s success, surpassing Apollo 13’s record for distance traveled, was a testament to their perseverance. The legacy of Apollo lives on, as messages from Charlie Duke and Jim Lovell, recorded before the latter’s passing, underscored the enduring spirit of exploration.