From Liftoff to Splashdown: My Coverage of NASA’s Historic Lunar Mission

For the past ten days, a crew of four astronauts has been writing history, venturing farther into the cosmos than any humans have traveled before as they journeyed to the Moon and returned. I have tracked every second of the Artemis II mission, witnessing the launch, the close lunar approach, and the tense final descent. Prior to their departure, the astronauts remarked that they were the calmest individuals on launch day. I, however, was far from composed.

The physical impact of the launch is undeniable. My excitement was palpable, and as the rocket ignited its massive boosters and engines to ascend, my reaction captured widespread attention online. Standing near the countdown clock at Florida’s Kennedy Space Center, alongside my BBC News science colleagues Alison Francis and Kevin Church, was an intensely visceral experience. The blinding white luminescence was impossible to ignore, the deafening roar took seconds to reach us, and the sheer force of the blast seemed to pass directly through our bodies. Most strikingly, it was difficult to process that four people were strapped into the apex of a 98-meter-tall rocket, bound for the Moon.

As Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Christina Koch, and Jeremy Hansen gained their first view of Earth from orbit, Glover addressed the planet: "Planet Earth, you look beautiful." Following a burn of the spacecraft’s main engine, the crew bid farewell to Earth and commenced their 250,000-mile trek to the Moon.

As the team adjusted to microgravity, live video feeds transmitted from inside the capsule revealed just how confined their living quarters were. The astronauts were occupying a space comparable to the size of a minibus, where they lived, worked, ate, and slept with no privacy from one another or from the millions of global viewers tracking their progress. Significant focus was placed on their Universal Waste Management System, colloquially known as the toilet. The $23 million toilet encountered plumbing issues, leading to intimate media briefings regarding the status of the crew’s "number ones and number twos." To answer that curiosity: "number twos" proceeded normally, but for "number ones," collapsible contingency urine devices—essentially bags with funnels—were utilized.

Inside Mission Control at the Johnson Space Center in Houston, we observed the nerve center of the operation. The team monitored all spacecraft systems, from navigation to life support, with intense scrutiny as data streamed in. This vigilance was crucial because Artemis II was a test flight—the first time humans had flown on both the new rocket and the spacecraft. Test flights carry inherent risks. During a quarantine period before the launch, Canadian astronaut Jeremy Hansen shared with the 13 Minutes podcast: Artemis II that he had discussed the possibility of not returning with his wife and three children. Similarly, Reid Wiseman, a widower who raised his two daughters alone after his wife passed away six years prior, had candid conversations with them about the dangers. This personal loss culminated in one of the mission’s most poignant moments.

As the spacecraft approached its destination and the Moon expanded in the window, new surface features became visible. The crew named a prominent crater, visible from Earth, after Reid’s late wife, Carroll. The astronauts, visibly emotional, gathered to embrace their commander and friend. Back in Houston, Mission Control was equally moved; not a dry eye remained among the NASA staff or the BBC team. Every individual we spoke with at NASA—from its leadership down—shared this sentiment.

Source: BBC News Generated at: 2026-04-11 23:17:07 UTC