I had a HAM radio receiver, and could listen to the voice of Launch Control, plus some of the control loops without having to endure the infomercial that NASA had on NASA TV.

NASA is kind enough to provide that audio to the area surrounding the launch complex, and it is a popular service for many people who attend a lot of launches in person. There are places where cell phone coverage is sparse on the Florida coast, but amateur radio is ubiquitous.

Besides, SFN was several seconds behind due to the gap in uploading its stream to the Internet and back down again. It wasn’t long until people nearby asked me to turn up the volume on the radio so they could hear it too. They wanted the latest, as soon as it was possble to know it.

The best part before liftoff was listening to the Launch Control Center’s go/no-go poll, and small cheer went up when each controller gave their assent for launch. It was like a sporting event, but more than just a mere game. Many of the people in our crowd had loved ones working at Kennedy Space Center that night, others were retired from the space program but had worked on this rocket during its long gestation.

Finally, after all the delays, after all the years, after all the criticisms and claims of NASA’s incompetence, liftoff. It was suddenly like dawn with the sun rising into the sky. Cheers erupted and people were bellowing “GO!” at the top of their lungs. For maybe thirty seconds, the rocket lit the landscape, its light glittered off of the Banana River, and shadows danced across the thin clouds.

Then came the sound. No, it was not incredibly loud, not from where we were (this was a common statement for viewers off the base later) but instead like thunder that rolled and rolled and rolled some more. It took quite a while to arrive — keep in mind that it takes about five seconds for sound to travel a mile under normal conditions.

The rocket scorched across the night sky, and was followed by a billowing trail of steam and smoke that expanded into a long, thin puffy cloud behind it. Its light was so bright that it was difficult to stare at initially — in the lower atmosphere, looking at it was almost like staring into the sun.

The flame of the rocket was perhaps 8–10 full moons long. Full moons seems like a strange unit of measure, but the moon is something most everyone is used to seeing in the night sky, and it seems apt to describe Artemis’s pillar of fire using it.

After about maybe three minutes of flight, a meteor flashed nearly straight down and from our spot, aligned with the smoke behind the rocket. That unexpected celestial treat got another gasp and claps from the crowd and seemed to be a fitting tribute to Artemis as climbed its way into orbit.

NASA had said in an infographic to expect 70 seconds of viewing Artemis in flight, but that was wrong. We could easily see it for seven minutes — long enough to see the solid rocket boosters falling away, and for a long time after that. Compared to other launches — SpaceX’s Falcon 9, United Launch Alliance’s Atlas V, others, Artemis was visible for much, much longer.

Knowing that some of my work was on board that ride was gratifying. It wasn’t much, but it was there, and it felt great.

If you ever have a chance to visit us here on the Space Coast and see a launch in person, I highly recommend doing it. The Visitor’s Center often sells “Feel the Heat” packages where you can get as close as anyone, and it is worth the money. It doesn’t necessarily need to be an Artemis ticket, even an Atlas V launch from 2.3 miles can rock your socks. Or, if you can’t make it onto Kennedy Space Center, perhaps take in a launch from the beach.