<p>Astronaut Michael Collins (90) who passed away in Florida recently was much more than a pathfinder who helped humankind with its first steps in exploring the cosmos.</p>.<p>As a command module pilot of Apollo 11, the first manned mission to land on the Moon, Michael (Mike) was not destined to walk on the moon. Instead, he would be ‘Carrying the Fire’ — as the title of his autobiography so aptly put it. “Exploration is not a choice really—it’s an imperative, and it’s simply a matter of timing as to when the option is exercised,” had said the veteran test pilot and the first man to perform two spacewalks (during Gemini 10, in 1966).</p>.<p class="CrossHead Rag"><strong>Natural communicator</strong></p>.<p>A tireless promoter of space exploration, Mike was a natural communicator who articulated the importance of treasuring our fragile planet. I was honoured to know Mike, even if from a distance, thanks to social media which he generously used to communicate with a world in awe of his historic moon voyage.</p>.<p>Though Mike’s moon-walking crewmates—Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin—made ‘history’, Mike’s role in the Apollo 11 mission was equally important as he was essentially the ‘only ticket’ home for the astronauts. After Neil and Buzz separated from the command module ‘Columbia’ and descended on the moon’s surface in the lunar lander ‘Eagle’, it was Mike who kept Columbia on an absolutely steady course for 22 hours as he circled the moon. And when Eagle began its ascent from the moon, Columbia had to be at the pre-determined position precisely for the vital rendezvous before the crew could decouple from the lunar module, and set course for their return to earth.</p>.<p class="CrossHead Rag"><strong>Loneliest man</strong></p>.<p>Communication with Houston Mission Control was blacked out for more than 45 minutes every time Columbia orbited the far side of the moon, which made Mike briefly ‘the loneliest man in history’. In his own words written in the log, “I am truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life…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 knows what on this side.”</p>.<p>But such was his humility that he sent me this tweet last summer: “Everyone always says that I was the loneliest man that ever was, flying by myself in the command module while Neil and Buzz went to the lunar surface. But that honour goes to John Young on Apollo 10, the dress rehearsal for Apollo 11. He circled the moon alone so I could, too.”</p>.<p>Mike would always be tested to the limit with the nagging worry of something dreadful happening to Neil and Buzz during their descent on the lunar surface: if Eagle crashed, or if its ascent engine refused to fire, there was no way to rescue them. Mike would then have had no choice but to leave his crewmates to their fate on the desolate lunar surface and make a tragic return to earth.</p>.<p>So, what were his thoughts as he orbited the moon alone? Mike admitted that he was too busy tending to the spacecraft to have any misgivings. “I was not lonely,” he said in an interview. “I had a happy little home in the command module. Behind the moon, it was very peaceful—no one in Mission Control is yakkin’ at me and wanting me to do this, that, and the other. So I was very happy, it was a happy home.”</p>.<p class="CrossHead Rag"><strong>Back on earth</strong></p>.<p>After leaving NASA, Mike had a brief stint with the US State Department which he gave up to become the director of the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. Later, he worked in the private aerospace sector and started his own consulting firm before retiring to be with his wife and three children. Besides his autobiography, he wrote several books including a historical description of the US space effort, a look at future expeditions to Mars and a children’s book on space adventures.</p>.<p class="CrossHead Rag"><strong>Passionate painter</strong></p>.<p>Even while battling cancer in the last few years of his life, he never let physical discomfort come in the way of painting, his chief passion after space exploration. If the Apollo 11 mission badge he designed is a historical treasure at NASA today, his water colours are a delight to behold. His paintings covered everything that touched him deeply: Wildlife, landscapes and, of course, the aircraft he flew as a test pilot. Unlike other astronaut painters (like moonwalker Alan Bean who even used moon dust in his paintings of lunar art), Mike seldom painted space or spacecraft.</p>.<p><em><span class="italic">(The author is a senior journalist who writes on space science and astronomy)</span></em></p>
<p>Astronaut Michael Collins (90) who passed away in Florida recently was much more than a pathfinder who helped humankind with its first steps in exploring the cosmos.</p>.<p>As a command module pilot of Apollo 11, the first manned mission to land on the Moon, Michael (Mike) was not destined to walk on the moon. Instead, he would be ‘Carrying the Fire’ — as the title of his autobiography so aptly put it. “Exploration is not a choice really—it’s an imperative, and it’s simply a matter of timing as to when the option is exercised,” had said the veteran test pilot and the first man to perform two spacewalks (during Gemini 10, in 1966).</p>.<p class="CrossHead Rag"><strong>Natural communicator</strong></p>.<p>A tireless promoter of space exploration, Mike was a natural communicator who articulated the importance of treasuring our fragile planet. I was honoured to know Mike, even if from a distance, thanks to social media which he generously used to communicate with a world in awe of his historic moon voyage.</p>.<p>Though Mike’s moon-walking crewmates—Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin—made ‘history’, Mike’s role in the Apollo 11 mission was equally important as he was essentially the ‘only ticket’ home for the astronauts. After Neil and Buzz separated from the command module ‘Columbia’ and descended on the moon’s surface in the lunar lander ‘Eagle’, it was Mike who kept Columbia on an absolutely steady course for 22 hours as he circled the moon. And when Eagle began its ascent from the moon, Columbia had to be at the pre-determined position precisely for the vital rendezvous before the crew could decouple from the lunar module, and set course for their return to earth.</p>.<p class="CrossHead Rag"><strong>Loneliest man</strong></p>.<p>Communication with Houston Mission Control was blacked out for more than 45 minutes every time Columbia orbited the far side of the moon, which made Mike briefly ‘the loneliest man in history’. In his own words written in the log, “I am truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life…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 knows what on this side.”</p>.<p>But such was his humility that he sent me this tweet last summer: “Everyone always says that I was the loneliest man that ever was, flying by myself in the command module while Neil and Buzz went to the lunar surface. But that honour goes to John Young on Apollo 10, the dress rehearsal for Apollo 11. He circled the moon alone so I could, too.”</p>.<p>Mike would always be tested to the limit with the nagging worry of something dreadful happening to Neil and Buzz during their descent on the lunar surface: if Eagle crashed, or if its ascent engine refused to fire, there was no way to rescue them. Mike would then have had no choice but to leave his crewmates to their fate on the desolate lunar surface and make a tragic return to earth.</p>.<p>So, what were his thoughts as he orbited the moon alone? Mike admitted that he was too busy tending to the spacecraft to have any misgivings. “I was not lonely,” he said in an interview. “I had a happy little home in the command module. Behind the moon, it was very peaceful—no one in Mission Control is yakkin’ at me and wanting me to do this, that, and the other. So I was very happy, it was a happy home.”</p>.<p class="CrossHead Rag"><strong>Back on earth</strong></p>.<p>After leaving NASA, Mike had a brief stint with the US State Department which he gave up to become the director of the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. Later, he worked in the private aerospace sector and started his own consulting firm before retiring to be with his wife and three children. Besides his autobiography, he wrote several books including a historical description of the US space effort, a look at future expeditions to Mars and a children’s book on space adventures.</p>.<p class="CrossHead Rag"><strong>Passionate painter</strong></p>.<p>Even while battling cancer in the last few years of his life, he never let physical discomfort come in the way of painting, his chief passion after space exploration. If the Apollo 11 mission badge he designed is a historical treasure at NASA today, his water colours are a delight to behold. His paintings covered everything that touched him deeply: Wildlife, landscapes and, of course, the aircraft he flew as a test pilot. Unlike other astronaut painters (like moonwalker Alan Bean who even used moon dust in his paintings of lunar art), Mike seldom painted space or spacecraft.</p>.<p><em><span class="italic">(The author is a senior journalist who writes on space science and astronomy)</span></em></p>
