edgar-mitchell

Into the Vacuum 71
After a short pause we resumed the struggle up the slope, carrying the
MET between us as you would a stretcher. Though it was tempting to leave
the contraption behind, it carried valuable film, tools, and space for samples,
all of which we would need when we reached the summit. Without the
MET, the walking would be far easier, but we knew the Houston geologists
were in a frenzy to get their hands on samples of the Volkswagen-size
boulders that littered the rim. This was science. This was the mission’s
larger purpose.
As we continued the trek I was struck by an upwelling of obscure
feelings. The sheer beauty seemed to summon some deep nocturnal emotion.
I was longing for something, I realized—perhaps one of those precious
moments when I might stand quiet and alone, gazing out over the
terrain of an ancient world whose history is measured by a scale of billions,
rather than hundreds, thousands, or even millions of years. What I craved
was a moment to contemplate my own place on its face and the one that
stood at our zenith. The view magically altered perspective, allowed for
new vantage points. But Al and I always had to keep moving. There was
work to be done, and a mountain of the moon to climb whose summit lay
somewhere in the distance.
A few minutes into our reprieve, Fred Haise’s voice again broke through
the sound of heavy breathing, telling us it was time to stop, consider our
current location as the summit, and perform the required tasks. Then we
were to head back. This time it was for real. With dour frustration we did
our work, our hearts pounding in our ears against the din of voices in the
headset. Then we stole the briefest of moments to look out over the plains
of Fra Mauro from this exalted height before orienting ourselves for the
trek back toward Antares, visible on the barren plain below. Because we
would not see the rim of the crater, I took a few seconds to allow the scene
to make its impress on my memory. Though we still had two more sample
steps on the way back, from now on Al and I would be earthbound. 2
We kangaroo-hopped our way back down the slope, taking giant leaps
through the void that is the lunar atmosphere. Only a faint gravity brought
us down. Within the span of a few minutes we had performed the additional
tasks, taken a moment for Al to make a renowned golf shot, and me
a less-famous javelin throw. Then we climbed back into the Antares, stowed
our samples, and prepared for the Great Elevator Ride to the command
module where Stu hung somewhere in orbit. We finished our housekeeping
while waiting for Stu to come to the right place overhead, then pushed
the final computer key that sent us blasting upward. The dust and rock
that scattered in our wake would remain just as it fell for millions of years
to come. As we saw the surface of the moon diminish, both Al and I were
struck with a strange nostalgia for this world. We would not be this way
again.