Fallen Eagle

Tonight I made the mistake of watching one of the live streams replaying the first human exploration of the Moon in real time. The moment itself, of course, remains momentus  even 50 years on; but I'm deeply saddened by the ignorance displayed in the commentary stream, where it seems perhaps 40 or 50 percent of people have signed on simply to decry one of humanity's greatest achievements as a hoax. 

Some days I weep for us all. 

Apollo 11 Soars

That men in fragile ships crossed the gulf from the Earth to the Moon in an era when computers the size of bedroom closets could do little more than basic math seems astounding today. Apollo 11, the new documentary by Todd Douglas Miller, captures the awe and wonder of that incredible journey, 50 years in the past this summer and still, to my mind, the single greatest human achievement.

Using glorious high definition footage left neglected for years in storage, Miller covers the mission from launch to recovery--not only the ships and the astronauts, but the ground crew, and in some ways most compellingly, the vast audience of ordinary people who came in their multitudes to line the beaches of Florida for launch day. The excitement on these faces is palpable; they know they are witnesses to history, that they are watching a moment that will, if we are fortunate, live on in our collective memory for as long as our species lasts.

Miller thankfully eschews voiceover narration; he lets the images, the astronauts, the ground crew and the rumble of rockets speak for themselves. Music is used sparingly at key moments--the launch, the landing, the return to Earth--with superb effect.

Even though the mission went without a hitch, there are still many moments of high drama, particularly during the landing on the moon, when a countdown clock shows the lunar lander is rapidly running out of fuel and a computer program alarm goes off multiple times in the last seconds before landing. There are a few moments of self-effacing or near-gallows humour here and there--my favourite is probably when Buzz Aldrin reminds himself not to lock the lunar lander door on his way out to the Moon's surface.

Watching Apollo 11 now, especially on a giant IMAX screen that provides some of the scope and scale necessary to give audiences a sense of the magnitude of the story, is necessarily bittersweet. As a human being, I'm proud that hundreds of thousands of people worked together to make possible the exploration of a strange new world, an astonishing feat that proved what human beings are truly capable of. And yet, I struggle to name an accomplishment of the same spirit-lifting grandeur. Perhaps we'll find it if we manage to save our civilization from our own folly in the fight against climate change.

On the other hand, even if our species destroys itself before its time, we can remain proud of those shining days in 1969 when we took our first steps beyond the cradle of Earth and, ever so briefly, explored the universe beyond.

Apollo 11 Trailer

I just heard about this: a new documentary about Apollo 11, created from 70mm footage of the original event. The few shots in the trailer look absolutely spectacular, and I cannot wait to see the entire spectacle. 

Mush, Mush

Since I posted about a cat the other day, today I'll post about dogs for the sake of balance. Leaf Rapids was once home to an annual dogsled race; I witnessed at least two such contests. This photo was taken sometime in the early 1970s, possibly before the road from Thompson to Leaf Rapids had even been completed, meaning that travel via dog team may still have been a viable option and not mere entertainment. To paraphrase Neil Armstrong, "Magnificent isolation."

Neil Armstrong, 1930-2012

Neil Armstrong, first man on the moon - first human being to make the journey from Earth to another celestial body - has died. 

The news hit me like a kick to the stomach just moments ago. It was only yesterday or the day before that I said to Sylvia, "It's going to be a terrible day when Neil Armstrong dies." I had no inkling that day would come so very quickly.

I was barely six months old when Armstrong made his small step and giant leap on Luna, but my parents tell me that I was awake and watching the live broadcast at that historic moment. I like to imagine that my lifelong passion for space exploration and science fiction began at the instant Armstrong's foot touched the lunar regolith.

Over the years I've read dozens of books about the American space program, and in each of them Neil Armstrong comes across as an enigmatic figure: immensely private, completely dedicated and professional, superhumanly cool under pressure, a gifted pilot and engineer. Armstrong famously retired from public life after his moon mission, appearing publicly only rarely. And yet despite his refusal to exploit his initial fame, Armstrong remains a key figure in history, one likely to be remembered centuries from now if we choose to follow those Lunar footsteps and build a better tomorrow among the stars.

Neil Armstrong's bravery and humility have inspired me and millions of others for decades. He was the first man to touch the nearest shore of the vast ocean that is the final frontier, and while others will go further and fly faster, he was the first. Neil Armstrong inspired me to look to the stars in wonder, and I'll be forever grateful for his heroic example. Wherever he's headed now, he'll go in peace, for all mankind.

Framed copy of the Flin Flon Reminder of July 21, 1969, currently hanging in our theatre room.