Blast off for summer fun with the U.S. Space & Rocket Center in Huntsville
The first thing you see of the U.S. Space and Rocket Center is the spire of a Saturn rocket rising up over the trees.
For the past two hours, my wife and I rolled through the flat farmland along U.S. Route 72, which follows the Tennessee River as it flows into Huntsville, Alabama. We passed a handful of firework stores, and even a hand painted sign: “Fireworks, buy one get one free.”
Seems the good nerds at NASA aren’t the only ones who like rockets. What’s the difference between a backyard pyro and someone at NASA anyway? Advanced math and government funding?We were on our way to see the ultimate rocket, the Saturn V, powerful enough to carry man to the moon. But our pilgrimage was for more than just a relic of the space age, for the Space Center is an attraction, a hands-on experience and living history museum all rolled into one.
Today, the Space and Rocket Center shows the evolution of the nation’s reach for space, beginning with the rockets developed by the U.S. Army that morphed into something more peaceful. It’s located in Huntsville because that’s where many of these fire tubes were developed and manufactured.
We paid for our tickets—$48 for two adults. And when we returned to our car with sore feet and sunburned faces, we agreed: it was worth every penny. First, the hands-on displays geared for kids encourages experimenting, feeling, experiencing. The tactile learning teaches visitors in a way that static displays cannot convey.
For example, the amusement park rides. The G-Force Accelerator—basically the carnival ride that spins you around in a dark chamber—allows you to feel 3 G’s of force, enough to pin your legs to the wall and press your throat against the back of your head.
Secondly, with so many museums full of reproductions and simple photos, it was refreshing to see actual artifacts. Altogether, the center displays 27 rockets. In the rocket park, they point straight into a sun-soaked sky.
Some were developed so the U.S. Military could pack them with nuclear warheads. They looked like tin cans, tall, heavily-painted and their fuel was liquid oxygen and kerosene.
They even crammed a man on top of one or two of them. Lit the fuse and boom! Space program. World’s greatest redneck ride.
But the most awe-inspiring artifacts are found in the Saturn V Hall, where the 365-foot, actually-able-to-fly Saturn V rocket fills the cathedral of a room. At the end of hall, we found the priceless artifacts, at least according to the center: a small chunk of basalt rock plucked from the moon’s surface.
But the best part of the trip was the men in white lab coats standing around the center, part of its NASA Emeritus Docent Program. They were former members of NASA who worked on the orange fuel tank for the Space Shuttle, for example. They were a greater treasure than a moon rock.
They could explain the past, present and future of the space program in full color. Just what was the equipment on the rocket designed to withstand? What was it like to work through the Challenger Disaster?
Altogether, we walked away from the museum with a multi-dimensional understanding of this nation’s aspirations for space.
The primary goal of the museum, it seems, is to excite kids about science, so that someday they will set a goal of colonizing mars. The center’s cafeteria is named Mars Grill. In a small section of the Saturn V hall, in the shadow of the rocket, sits a themed playground built to resemble some conceptual model of a colony on mars. On the wall, it was written, “Your future on Mars.”
“This is what your grandfathers achieved,” the center seemingly says. “Go forth. Build something greater. Go pack a rocket full of potatoes and Matt Damon.”
If stepping out onto the moon was “one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind,” as Neil Armstrong said, what would it mean to establish a colony on Mars?
Leaving the center, it felt like anything was possible. That man could build something that reached the heavens. And to think it started with kerosene, liquid oxygen and a bunch of mad scientists down in Alabama.
Daniel Jackson is an independent journalist working in the Chattanooga area. He studied Communications at Bryan College and covered national events at the Washington Times.