Michael Collins

Reissued with a new preface by the author on the fiftieth anniversary of the Apollo 11 journey to the moon The years that have passed since Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins piloted the Apollo 11 spacecraft to the moon in July 1969 have done nothing to alter the fundamental wonder of the event: man reaching the moon remains one of the great events—technical and spiritual—of our lifetime. In Carrying the Fire, Collins conveys, in a very personal way, the drama, beauty, and humor of that adventure. He also traces his development from his first flight experiences in the air force, through his days as a test pilot, to his Apollo 11 space walk, presenting an evocative picture of the joys of flight as well as a new perspective on time, light, and movement from someone who has seen the fragile earth from the other side of the moon.

50th Anniversary Edition

Carrying the Fire

Manu

The body machine, like a flying machine, can be operated with greater enjoyment, poise, and confidence if one has explored its limits

We pushed their knowledge to its limits, and there the smart ones said, "I don't know" and the others tried to bullshit us.

I guess one learns to become comfortable with the familiar, no matter how strange it may appear to others.

Please, God, no emergencies tonight, I am just too tired to pump the adrenalin required for coping… just let me be, let me sit here and guide this missile through the darkness without any hassles, that is about all I am capable of doing.

It is a totally different sensation than being in the race track of an earth orbit. I am conscious of distance this time, not speed, and distance away from home. It is a sobering, almost melancholy, sight, this shrinking globe, and for the first time in my life I think I know what "outward bound" means.

I don't mean to deny a feeling of solitude. It is there, reinforced by the fact that radio contact with the earth abruptly cuts off at the instant I disappear behind the moon. I am alone now, truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life. I am it. If a count were taken, the score would be three billion plus two over on the other side of the moon, and one plus God only knows what on this side. I feel this powerfully—not as fear or loneliness—but as awareness, anticipation, satisfaction, confidence, almost exultation. I like the feeling. 

I am also planning to leave a lot of things undone. Part of life's mystery depends on future possibilities, and mystery is an elusive quality which evaporates when sampled frequently, to be followed by boredom.

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