Just an hour and a half drive from Orlando, over on the Atlantic coast, sits a real slice of world history. It is the home of NASA's primary launch facility, the starting point for the famous Gemini and Apollo missions and the launch and landing location for the recently retired space shuttle programme. Sitting amid a vast nature reserve full of alligators, bald eagles, manatees and migratory birds, it is the last place you'd expect to find a rocket ship. As we drove up the approach road, a single strip of tarmac connecting the narrow wetland peninsular of the base to the mainland, I imagined those brave Apollo astronauts in the 60's and 70's, travelling along the very same highway in their sports cars for the last time before being rocketed into space. Some would return, some would not, and some would go on to walk on the moon. The history of this place will stun you before you've even arrived.
Before taking in the various museums and displays at the visitor's centre, we were given a guided coach tour of the facility, taking in the Apollo 11 launch pad, the immense Vehicle Assembly Building (within which the famous Saturn 5 rockets and space shuttles were constructed before being rolled out to the launch pads - a single storey structure so large, clouds have been known to form inside) and the launch control centre. We were then dropped off at the Saturn 5 museum. Surrounded by palm trees and shrubbery, it was difficult to gauge exactly where we were or what we were stepping into. Once the large steel doors had rolled open, we found ourselves in a darkened room where a compelling documentary about the moon race was shown over three separate and unique screens suspended from the ceiling. The time line of the film ended at the historic Apollo 8 mission - the first manned rocket to leave the earth, orbit the moon and return safely. 'In the room to your left,' the narrator concluded, 'you will find the actual launch control centre used on that monumental day...not a recreation, not a mock up, the actual room, as it stood, way back in 1968. You will then watch the launch as it happened in this very room, in real time, complete with the radio communications made between the control room and the astronauts recorded on that day, starting at three minutes before lift off.'
The lights came up, the doors to our left opened and we stepped inside. Beneath a curve of tiered seating, three or four rows of control desks lay in a dim blue haze of light. Each row was home to some ten or fifteen 1960's office chairs, each one sat before a panel of glass monitor screens, light boards, switches and dials - basically, the giant dashboard of a moon rocket. Above the scene, several cinema screens began the presentation, transporting us to the moments before the launch. The observation areas around the base were crammed with spectators and photographers, the Press areas filled with TV camera crews, Walter Cronkite welcoming the TV viewing world to Cape Canaveral, narrating the run up to the launch with the steaming rocket straining on its launch pad behind him; the tropical beaches to the north and south of the base flooded with day trippers stretched out on the sand with their portable wireless radios and picnics, traffic on the surrounding roads at a stand still, everyone looking in the same direction, their hands held above their eyes, the world, waiting, for blast off.
Beside the cinema screens, a large digital clock counted down. As it reached three minutes, the control room before us flicked in to life. The radios crackled and we heard the voices of history from the loudspeakers. We listened as each department gave the mission controller their 'go / no-go' confirmation for the launch. With each voice, a new desk lit up, and with each 'go' another green light on a large status board overhead would illuminate until the room was sparkling with lights. Needles on dials bounced, TV monitors flickered and the tension grew.
Thirty seconds. Commence ignition sequence. As the drama continued to unfold in front of us, the distant blast of the igniting engines filled the air with startling realism. Ten seconds and the room around us began to shake as they neared full power. What we had assumed was the sky outside, through slanted roof-light windows above us, began to turn red and fiery, and wild clouds of smoke billowed by. Closing my eyes, it was quite easy to imagine that an actual rocket launch was taking place outside. Zero. The roar of the engines reached a deafening peak. The ceiling panels of the room began to shake wildly, the windows rattled on their hinges and our mouths hung open at what we were witnessing. This was more than a reenactment or a simulation - this was real. Lift off. Once the noise of the rocket had faded and control of the mission handed to NASA's secondary facility in Houston Texas, the lights came up once more and we were ushered, somewhat dumbfounded by what we had just experienced, into the next room of the tour.
This room, however, was larger than the previous two - it was a hanger. In here, we came face to face with the tail end of an actual, unused, Saturn 5 rocket.
Beside the cinema screens, a large digital clock counted down. As it reached three minutes, the control room before us flicked in to life. The radios crackled and we heard the voices of history from the loudspeakers. We listened as each department gave the mission controller their 'go / no-go' confirmation for the launch. With each voice, a new desk lit up, and with each 'go' another green light on a large status board overhead would illuminate until the room was sparkling with lights. Needles on dials bounced, TV monitors flickered and the tension grew.
Thirty seconds. Commence ignition sequence. As the drama continued to unfold in front of us, the distant blast of the igniting engines filled the air with startling realism. Ten seconds and the room around us began to shake as they neared full power. What we had assumed was the sky outside, through slanted roof-light windows above us, began to turn red and fiery, and wild clouds of smoke billowed by. Closing my eyes, it was quite easy to imagine that an actual rocket launch was taking place outside. Zero. The roar of the engines reached a deafening peak. The ceiling panels of the room began to shake wildly, the windows rattled on their hinges and our mouths hung open at what we were witnessing. This was more than a reenactment or a simulation - this was real. Lift off. Once the noise of the rocket had faded and control of the mission handed to NASA's secondary facility in Houston Texas, the lights came up once more and we were ushered, somewhat dumbfounded by what we had just experienced, into the next room of the tour.
This room, however, was larger than the previous two - it was a hanger. In here, we came face to face with the tail end of an actual, unused, Saturn 5 rocket.
Laid on its side, complete in every way, from the massive launch engines to the cramped re-entry module on the top, this giant - the most complicated machine ever built - stretched far into the distance inside the enormous space in which we were now stood. Beneath it, various displays offered brief distractions from staring up in bewilderment, allowing visitors to touch a piece of moon rock, gaze in awe at an actual space suit still covered in moon dust, and learn about the highs and lows of the Apollo programme, from the doomed Apollo one (in which all astronauts were killed during a training exercise) to Neil Armstrong taking mans' first steps on the moon.
As museums go, this one is something very, very special. Add to this the fact that we hadn't even made it to the actual visitor's centre at this point, where we would later learn about the future of NASA, marvel at the now retired space shuttle programme, lay flat on our backs aboard a state of the art launch simulator, and watch one of the most beautiful 3D IMAX movies I've ever seen. It's easy to see why our day at KSC was one of the soaring highlights of our trip so far....and it only costs $38 (£25) to get in. A true bargain and a must for anyone who thinks that Florida is nothing but Mickey Mouse and oranges.
As museums go, this one is something very, very special. Add to this the fact that we hadn't even made it to the actual visitor's centre at this point, where we would later learn about the future of NASA, marvel at the now retired space shuttle programme, lay flat on our backs aboard a state of the art launch simulator, and watch one of the most beautiful 3D IMAX movies I've ever seen. It's easy to see why our day at KSC was one of the soaring highlights of our trip so far....and it only costs $38 (£25) to get in. A true bargain and a must for anyone who thinks that Florida is nothing but Mickey Mouse and oranges.
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