From Liftoff to Splashdown: Chronicling NASA’s Historic Lunar Mission

For the past ten days, I have tracked every second of the Artemis II mission, a journey that has taken four astronauts further into the cosmos than any humans have traveled before. From the initial lift-off to their close approach of the Moon and the tense descent, I witnessed the entire saga. Before they launched, the crew shared a surprising insight: on launch day, astronauts are the calmest people in the room. I, however, was far from composed.

The physical sensation of the launch was overwhelming. Standing near the countdown clock at Florida’s Kennedy Space Center, alongside my BBC News science colleagues Alison Francis and Kevin Church, the experience was intensely visceral. The rocket’s engines ignited with a blinding white brightness that was impossible to look away from. The roar was deafening, taking several seconds to reach us, while the sheer force of the blast seemed to pass directly through our bodies. Amidst the noise and light, it was difficult to process the reality that four human beings were strapped into the seats atop a 98-meter-tall rocket, bound for the Moon.

As the crew—Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Christina Koch, and Jeremy Hansen—gained altitude and began to see Earth from a distance, Glover captured the moment for the world, stating, "Planet Earth, you look beautiful." Shortly after, a burn from the spacecraft’s main engine signaled their departure from Earth orbit, beginning a 250,000-mile journey to the lunar surface.

Once the crew adjusted to microgravity, live video feeds were transmitted from inside the capsule, revealing the cramped conditions of their living quarters. The astronauts were sharing a space roughly the size of a minibus, with no privacy for living, working, eating, or sleeping. They were in constant view of millions of people watching their every move.

Particular focus was given to the Universal Waste Management System, the spacecraft’s toilet. Designed at a cost of $23 million, the system suffered from plumbing issues. During a media briefing, the crew provided intimate details about how these technical glitches affected their daily routine when asked about their "number ones and number twos." The answer was that while defecation ("number twos") proceeded normally, urination ("number ones") required the use of collapsible contingency urine devices—essentially bags with funnels.

Inside the Johnson Space Center in Houston, the atmosphere was equally intense. Mission Control served as the operational nerve center, where the team monitored all spacecraft systems, from navigation to life support, 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.

These risks became personal during a conversation with Canadian astronaut Jeremy Hansen via the 13 Minutes Presents: Artemis II podcast, recorded while he was in quarantine prior to launch. Hansen revealed that he had discussed the possibility of not returning home with his wife and three children. Similarly, Reid Wiseman, a single father who raised his two daughters after his wife passed away six years ago, had candid conversations with them about the dangers of the mission.

As the spacecraft approached its destination and the Moon filled the window, the crew identified a bright crater visible from Earth and named it "Carroll" in honor of Reid’s late wife. The moment was deeply emotional; the crew, visibly moved, gathered to hug their commander and friend. The sentiment resonated back on Earth, where not a dry eye remained in Mission Control, including among the BBC team. Every NASA employee we spoke with, from its highest officials...

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