An astronaut's guide to life on earth. Summary What we learned from the book “An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth. The benefits of negative thinking

Six seconds to go. The engines started, and we were pushed forward by this new powerful force applied to the ship, which first tilted a little to the side, and then again stretched vertically into a string. At this moment there is powerful vibration and loud noise in the cabin. The feeling was as if a huge dog had grabbed us with its jaws and was shaking us, and then, subdued by a giant invisible owner, it spat us straight into the sky, away from the Earth. The feeling of magic, victory, dreams.

And there is also the feeling that a huge truck at maximum speed has just crashed into our side. But this is normal, expected, we were warned that this would happen. I just kept my ears open, running through my spreadsheets and checklists in my head, keeping my eyes on the buttons and lights above my head, glancing at the computer monitors for signs of trouble, trying not to blink. The launch tower was long behind us, and we were roaring upward, pressed into our seats with increasing force,
while the fuel of our rocket burned and it became lighter. After 45 seconds, the rocket exceeded the speed of sound. After another 30, we were flying higher and faster than the Concorde: we reached a Mach number of two and continued to gain momentum. Like a racing car, only many times cooler.

I'm in space, weightless, and to get here it took only 8 minutes and 42 seconds. Well, plus several thousand days of preparation

Two minutes after the launch, we were rushing at a speed approximately six times the speed of sound, and when the first stage of the accelerator departed, we rushed upward with renewed vigor. I was completely focused on controlling the parameters, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed how the color of the sky changed from light blue to dark blue, and then black.

Then suddenly there was silence: we reached Mach 25, the orbital speed, the engines gradually died down, and I noticed a few dust particles float slowly upward. Up. I looked away from my checklists for a few seconds and watched as they floated in the air and then froze instead of crashing to the floor. I felt like a little child, a wizard, the happiest person. I'm in space, weightless, and it only took 8 minutes and 42 seconds to get here. Well, plus several thousand days of preparation.

Preparation

Sometimes when people find out that I'm an astronaut, they ask, “What do you do when you're not flying in space?” They were under the impression that between launches we spent most of our time in the waiting rooms in Houston catching our breath before the next launch. Usually you hear about astronauts when they are already in space or about to go there, so this impression is not without foundation. I always feel like I disappoint people when I tell them the truth: we spend almost our entire working lives training on Earth.

Over the years, I have had to perform many roles, ranging from a member of various commissions to the head of the control center of the International Space Station in Houston. The longest job in ground services that I had to do and in which, it seems to me, I brought a lot of benefit was as a communications operator - an employee of the ground space service, conducting negotiations with astronauts in orbit from the mission control center. The communications operator acts as the main channel of information between the control center and the astronauts in orbit, and his job is a never-ending challenge, like a crossword puzzle that grows as fast as you complete it.

When I flew into space again in April 2011 as part of the STS-100 mission, I had a much more complete understanding of the entire complex mosaic of space flight, and not just my small role in it. I won’t lie that I wouldn’t have rejoiced at the chance to go into space earlier (it is clear that American astronauts had priority in the distribution of shuttle flights, because these spacecraft were manufactured in the USA and belonged to the American state).

Open space

Going into outer space is almost like climbing a mountain, lifting a barbell, fixing a small machine and performing an intricate ballet step,
and all this at the same time, while being packed in a bulky spacesuit that peels off fingers and collarbones. In zero gravity, many simple tasks become incredibly difficult. Even just turning a wrench to tighten a bolt can be as difficult as changing a tire on a car while standing on skates with goalie gloves on.

Go into outer space- it's almost like climbing a mountain, lifting a barbell, fixing a small machine and performing an intricate ballet step, and all this at the same time

Therefore, every spacewalk is the result of many years of carefully coordinated efforts by hundreds of people and unnoticed hard work spent to make sure that all the details are provided for and accidents are excluded. Overplanning is necessary here because working outside the ship is always dangerous. You risk being in a vacuum that is completely incompatible with life. If trouble happens, you can't just rush back to the ship.

I literally spent years practicing in zero gravity at the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, which is essentially a huge swimming pool at the Johnson Space Center. The experiences I had on my first space flight and while working at Mission Control taught me how to better prioritize, how to determine what was truly important and what would just be nice to know. What does it mean to be outside the ISS, how to move around the station without breaking anything, how to repair and configure equipment in real time - these are the main things that I needed to understand. During training in the pool, I had to practice every step and every action until it became automatic. This was my task.

Russia

In 2001, I became director of NASA operations in Russia. In those days, most American astronauts did not covet such a job. Some were embarrassed by the past contradictions and tensions between the two countries, others were not happy about the fact that they would have to deal with a foreign culture (where even the alphabet is completely different), severe winters and the lack of modern devices that make life more comfortable, such as dishwashers or dryers for clothes. But for a Canadian who has successfully adapted to the slowness of Texas speech and humidity
in the northern Gulf of Mexico, the opportunity to live in yet another foreign country for a few years seemed very exciting, so I was happy to receive this assignment. I wanted to make the most of my time there, so Helen and I took additional Russian language courses (our three children were studying in Canadian boarding schools and universities at the time). Helen switched to working remotely in Houston, so she could spend almost every month with me in Zvyozdny Gorodok, a training center for astronauts located about an hour's drive from Moscow. In Starry NASA built several individual townhouses for the Americans, and we could move into one of them. But instead we settled in an ordinary Russian apartment building, deciding that this way we would have more opportunities to get to know the country and its people.

While Volodya and I were watching football, we cut up 70 kilograms of meat, took a bag of onions and tomatoes for salads and drank everything that was in the house

And so it happened. We had to speak a lot of Russian. My neighbors and I had great parties with music, dancing and cooking shashlik together - a very tasty Russian version of barbecue. I remember how one of the local drivers, Volodya, decided to initiate me into the mystical process of choosing, cutting and preparing meat for barbecue. It took half a day, and then it took me another two days to come to my senses. We blessed the meat with vodka, raised a toast to the whole
pedigree of the pig, sipped Russian beer while the half-thawed pork was cut into pieces, red wine was poured into the marinade and into ourselves, and by the end of the day we made emotional speeches about the beauty of raw meat and the bonds of male friendship. While Volodya and I watched football on a grainy 10-inch TV screen, we cut up 70 kilograms of meat, used a bag of onions and tomatoes for salads, to which we added several bunches of various chopped herbs and seasonings, and drank everything that was in the house. By the end of the evening, five overflowing buckets of sliced pork were ready, which
it was supposed to be fried over the fire the next day. We became almost one family (which turned out to be very useful, because I forgot all my things at Volodya’s house: coat, hat, camera and keys). And I was also proud of myself, because on the bus that took me home, I was able to hold it in and didn’t vomit. Well, the best, time-tested recipe for making shish kebab, which we followed so carefully, remained a secret for me, because I don’t remember at all what and how exactly we did.

Skills

Many of the techniques I mastered were quite simple, but at the same time unexpected and illogical, in some cases similar to a witty aphorism turned upside down. Astronauts are taught that the best way to reduce stress is to worry about the little things. We are taught to look at the worst side of everything and imagine the worst that can happen. In fact, in simulator training, the most common question we learn to ask ourselves is, “Well, what's the next reason I might die?” We also learn that acting as an astronaut means, among other things, helping each other's families during launch: bringing them food, running errands for them, holding handbags and running for napkins. Of course, we mostly study complex technical things, but some of them turn out to be surprisingly down to earth. Every astronaut can fix a clogged toilet - something we have to do all the time in space. And each of us knows how to carefully and meticulously pack things - the Soyuz taught us this, where every single piece of luggage must be secured in a strictly defined way, otherwise the weight distribution and balancing of the ship will be disrupted.

Fear

People have the idea that it must be very scary to be in a rocket with engines roaring and spitting fire. Of course, if you
they will pull you out of the street, push you into a rocket and say that there are four minutes left before the launch, and so, among other things, they will warn that one wrong move of yours will destroy both you and everyone else - yes, it will be very scary. But I was prepared for years, numerous groups of experts helped me think through
how to handle almost any conceivable situation that could happen between takeoff and landing, so I'm not scared. Like any astronaut, I had participated in so many highly realistic spaceflight simulations that when the engines finally started and roared for real, my main emotion was not fear. I felt relieved - finally.

I'm still afraid to stand on the edge of the abyss. However, on an airplane or
in a spaceship I'm sure,
that I won't fall down

In my experience, fear arises when you don’t know what to expect and doubt that you can control what is happening. If you understand what to fear, then you no longer feel helpless and are much less afraid. But when there is not enough information, everything seems dangerous. I know this feeling very well, because I am afraid of heights. When I stand on the edge of a cliff or look down from the balcony of a high-rise building, my stomach begins to churn, my palms sweat, and my legs refuse to move despite the growing panic that demands that I return to safety immediately. However, this physiological reaction does not bother me at all. I think everyone should be afraid of heights. This is just a common sense of self-preservation, just like the fear of pythons or mad bulls.

But I admit that for an astronaut or pilot, a fear of heights is somehow inappropriate and even ridiculous. How will I work if even climbing to heights evokes primal fear in me? And the answer is simple: I learned not to pay attention to my own fears.
attention. I'm still afraid to stand on the edge of the abyss. However, on an airplane or in a spaceship, I am sure that I will not fall down, although I know that I am at a high altitude. The wings, the design of the aircraft, the engines, the speed - all this keeps me at a height in the same way as the earth's surface keeps me down on Earth. Knowledge and experience allow me to feel relatively comfortable at altitude.

The book is provided by Alpina Publisher

I haven’t shared my book finds for a long time. These are the ones that will hook you and take pride of place among the books that you want to read again and again, if not re-read, then at least leaf through.
I'm sharing.

Christopher Hadfield. An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth. What 4000 hours in orbit taught me.

Among my favorite books, autobiographies are extremely rare, and even more rare are motivational books like “Twenty-five tips on how to change the world” or “If I did it, you can do it too.”

Honestly, until recently there was only one book - Haruki Murakami's "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running." A story written by a famous writer about how he came to marathons and how it changed his life.
I don’t know why, but it was she who caught my attention at the time, she is the one who inspires me to put on my sneakers again and run when I don’t particularly want to run anywhere.

So here it is. Now I have a second such book. But in the ranking of my personal preferences, I will probably put it in first place.

How did she hook me personally?

Initially, of course, space.

But in reality, this is not at all the case.
Probably because in it I found either a lot of consonance with what I am doing or what I am trying to achieve. I found something that was swirling around in my head at the level of intuition, but was never fully formed.
And the fact that I, like the hero of the book, have been solving the problem all my life: how can a square astronaut get through a round hatch.

The story is about how to make a dream come true, why a person who has flown into space is not yet an astronaut (by the way, it is very similar to our situation, why a person climbing with us is not a mountaineer) and how to become a real astronaut, and also about the fact that the path to goals are more important than the goal itself.

And all this through the prism of interesting stories about the training of astronauts, about expeditions, about space, starting from the most global things and ending with everyday little things: how they brush their teeth in space, how they eat, sleep and go to the toilet.

Quote 1.

Ever since I became an astronaut, I've imagined spacewalks like a scene from a movie: solemn music plays, the volume rises, I gracefully push off from the spacecraft and step out into the pitch-black, endless space. But everything was not very romantic. I was forced to be patient and clumsily squeeze through the hatch, abandon the sublime feelings and concentrate on the routine: try not to strip my spacesuit and not get tangled in the safety cord, so as not to appear before the Universe hobbled like a calf.

I timidly pushed myself out of the hatch head first to see the world as only a few dozen people saw it. Behind my back I had a large backpack with a system of engines controlled by a joystick. Using these engines, powered by compressed nitrogen, I could return to the ship if there were no other options. The pinnacle of skill in an emergency situation.

Square astronaut, round hatch. This is the story of my whole life. The eternal quest to figure out how to get where I want to go when the door is impossible to get through. On paper, my career seems predetermined: engineer, fighter pilot, test pilot, astronaut. The typical path for anyone who has embarked on these professional tracks is as straight as a ruler. But in life everything is not as it is on paper. There have been sharp turns and dead ends in life. I was not destined to become an astronaut. I had to make myself an astronaut.

I have never felt the feeling that life would fail if I never went into space.
Since the chance to become an astronaut was not great, it seemed to me that it would be very stupid to rely completely on it and lose self-respect if this chance never comes. My attitude was: “It may never happen, but just in case, I must do whatever is necessary to move towards my chosen goal; I have to be sure that the things I do are interesting to me. Then, no matter what happens, I will be happy.”

Translator Dmitry Lazarev

Editor Anton Nikolsky

Project Manager I. Seregina

Proofreaders M. Milovidova, E. Aksenova

Computer layout A. Fominov

Cover design O. Sidorenko

Photo of the astronaut on the cover Hello Lovely/Corbis/All Over Press

Photo of the Earth and the starry sky on the cover Shutterstock

All rights reserved. The work is intended exclusively for private use. No part of the electronic copy of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet or corporate networks, for public or collective use without the written permission of the copyright owner. For violation of copyright, the law provides for payment of compensation to the copyright holder in the amount of up to 5 million rubles (Article 49 of the Code of Administrative Offenses), as well as criminal liability in the form of imprisonment for up to 6 years (Article 146 of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation).

* * *

Dedicated to my beloved Helen.

My dreams became reality thanks to your faith, support and invaluable help.

Photo: Chris Hadfield's spacewalk - NASA

Preface
mission Impossible

Through the windows of a spaceship you watch wonders in passing. Every 92 minutes there is a new dawn, which looks like a layer cake: the first layer is orange, then blue wedges in and finally rich, dark blue, decorated with stars. The hidden patterns of our planet are clearly visible from here: awkward mountains rising among neat plains; green spots of forests framed by snow; rivers sparkling in the sun, twisting and wriggling like silver worms; sprawling continents surrounded by islands scattered across the ocean, like fragile pieces of broken eggshells.

As I floated weightless in the airlock before my first spacewalk, I knew I was one step away from even greater beauty. All you have to do is swim outside to find yourself in the middle of the grandiose scenery of the Universe, while being tied to a ship that revolves around the Earth at a speed of 28,000 km/h. I dreamed about this moment, I worked for it almost all my life. But just one step away from the great accomplishment, I was faced with a ridiculous problem: how to take the last step and get out of the airlock? The hatch is small and round, but I, with all my tools strapped to my chest, and a huge backpack with oxygen tanks and electronics on my back, are square. Square astronaut, round hatch.

* * *

It all started when I was 9 years old. My family spent the summer at our cottage on Stag Island in Ontario. My father worked as a civil aviation pilot, and due to frequent flights, he was almost never at home. But my mother was always there. She spent every minute free from running after the five of us in the shade of a tall oak tree reading. My older brother Dave and I were real restless people. In the mornings we went water skiing, and in the afternoon we avoided homework and, secretly making our way to a canoe, swam along the river. There was no TV in the house, but our neighbors had one. Late in the evening of July 20, 1969, my brother and I walked across the large field that separated us from the neighbor’s house and squeezed into the living room, in which almost all the inhabitants of the island had already gathered. Dave and I sat higher up on the back of the sofa, craning our necks to see something, staring at the screen. The man slowly, methodically descended the support of the spacecraft and carefully stepped onto the surface of the Moon. The image on the screen was unclear, but I clearly understood what exactly we saw: the impossible became possible. The room was filled with jubilation. The adults shook hands and the children squealed and screamed with joy. Somehow we all felt like we were with Neil Armstrong and changing the world together.

Later, on my way home, I looked at the moon. She was no longer a distant, unknown celestial body. The moon became a place where people walked, talked, worked and even slept. At that moment I realized what I wanted to devote my life to. I decided to follow the tracks that the man had so bravely left just a few minutes ago. Traveling on a rocket with roaring jet engines, exploring space, expanding the boundaries of human knowledge and capabilities - I realized with absolute clarity that I wanted to become an astronaut.

However, like every child in Canada, I knew this was impossible. The astronauts were Americans. NASA only accepted applications from US citizens, and Canada didn't even have its own space agency. But... just yesterday it was impossible to walk on the surface of the Moon, but this did not stop Neil Armstrong. Maybe someday I will have the chance to walk on the moon, and when that day comes, I must be ready.

I was old enough to understand that astronaut training had nothing in common with the space flight games I played with my brothers on our bunk bed under a huge poster. National Geographic with the image of the Moon. But at that time there was no educational program that I could get into, there was no manual that I could read, and there was no one I could even turn to with questions. I decided there was only one way. I had to imagine, come up with what a future astronaut should do when he is only 9 years old, and do the same, then I could start training immediately. What would an astronaut choose: fresh vegetables or potato chips? Would a future astronaut sleep late or get up early to read a book?

I did not announce my desire to become an astronaut to my parents or siblings. I thought that my idea would be received in much the same way as if I said that I wanted to become a movie star. But from that very evening my dream led me all my life. Even as a nine-year-old boy, I recognized that I would have to make many choices in life and that my decisions would matter. How I live every day, what activities I spend my time on, will determine what kind of person I become.

I liked going to school, but with the arrival of autumn I returned there with a new feeling. Now I had a specific goal. I started studying in an in-depth program. We were taught not just to think, but to analyze and critically approach any problem, ask questions and set tasks, and not just try to get the right answers. We memorized the poems of Robert Service, rattled off the French alphabet, solved abstruse puzzles, imitated a game on the stock exchange (I bought shares of a grain company on a whim, not very profitable, as it turned out). In fact, we learned to learn.

It's not hard to force yourself to work hard if you want to achieve something as much as I wanted to be an astronaut, but the experience of living on a corn farm also helps. When I was seven, my family moved from Sarnia to Milton, closer to the Toronto airport where my father flew from. My parents bought a farm. They both grew up on a farm, so breaks in their father's flying schedule were seen as an excellent opportunity to work until exhaustion on the land, thus maintaining the family tradition. Torn between working the land and looking after five children, they were too busy to care for any of us personally. They believed that if we really want something, we should make the appropriate effort on our own and only after we have completed our household responsibilities.

It goes without saying that responsibility for the consequences of our actions lay entirely with ourselves - it was a given. Once, when I was still a teenager, I was driving a tractor and did it too self-confidently, showing off to myself. And at that moment, when I felt like the best tractor driver in the whole area, I hit a fence post with the tractor’s coupling device. The hitch rod has broken. I was furious and confused, and my father was not the type to calm down, “It's okay, son, you can go play. I'll fix everything." He said in a stern voice that now I must weld the broken rod myself, and if I don’t know how to do this, then I will have to learn, and then return to the field and finish my job. He helped me with the welding, I attached the rod back and continued working. Later that day I broke the craving again in the same way, but no one had to yell at me anymore. I was so upset at my own stupidity that I started yelling at myself. I asked my father to help me with the repairs again, after which I went into the field for the third time, only with more caution.

Life on a farm is great for developing patience, which is so necessary in our rural conditions. To study at school in an in-depth program, I had to spend four hours a day on bus rides to and from school. When I started spending just two hours a day on the bus in high school, I considered myself lucky. The positive side of these trips was that even in those early days I was accustomed to using the time on the road to read and study - I continued to adhere to the strategy of “do like an astronaut”, while trying not to take my actions to the point of absurdity. I was determined that I would be ready for spaceflight if the opportunity ever presented itself, but I was almost as determined to enjoy the preparation itself. If my decisions made me unhappy, it wouldn't be worth continuing. I don't have the martyrdom gene.

Fortunately, my interests coincided perfectly with what would have interested an astronaut in the era when they flew into space on Apollo. Most of the astronauts were fighter pilots or test pilots, and I loved airplanes, too. When I was 13 years old, I followed Dave into becoming an “air cadet,” a cross between a Boy Scout and a military one. By the way, my younger brother and sisters also became cadets when they reached the required age. We were taught military science and command, and we were also taught to fly. At the age of 15 I received my first license to fly a glider, and at 16 I began learning to fly an airplane. I liked the feeling of flying, its speed. I liked to overcome the difficulties that arose when performing maneuvers with some elegance. I wanted to be the best pilot possible, not just because it fit into my “do like an astronaut” strategy, but because I just loved flying.

Of course, I also had other hobbies. I loved reading science fiction, playing the guitar, and water skiing. I took part in downhill skiing competitions. I liked cross-country skiing for the same reasons I liked flying. By doing them, I learned to curb the speed, the energy of movement, when you rush headlong, concentrating on performing the next turn or trick, and at the same time maintaining sufficient control so as not to fall. In my youth I even worked as a ski instructor. But while it was fun to make money skiing all day, I knew the few years I would spend hitting the slopes would only take me further away from my lifelong goal of becoming an astronaut.

Thanks to all these hobbies, I never felt like life would fail if I never went into space. Since the chance to become an astronaut was not great, it seemed to me that it would be very stupid to rely completely on it and lose self-respect if this chance never comes. My attitude was: “It may never happen, but just in case, I must do whatever is necessary to move towards my chosen goal; I have to be sure that the things I do are interesting to me. Then, no matter what happens, I will be happy.”

In those days, the path to NASA was primarily through military service, so after graduating from high school, I decided to enter military school. I thought that at least I would get a good education and be able to serve my country, and among other things, I would be able to receive a scholarship. At school, mechanics became my specialty. I thought that even if I didn’t make a career as a military pilot, I could become an engineer. I have always been interested in how different mechanisms work. I hung a poster with a picture of the shuttle above my desk, and when I read textbooks or did calculations, I often glanced at it.

* * *

On Christmas Day 1981, six months before I graduated from college, I did something that impacted my life more than anything else I've ever done. I got married. Helen and I have been dating since school. By the time of our wedding, she had already graduated from university and was working in an insurance agency, where she became a real rising star in the insurance business. Her business was so successful that we were able to buy a house in Kitchener, Ontario before we got married. We spent almost eighteen months of the first two years of our happily married life apart. I went to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, where I began my basic flying training with the Canadian Air Force and Helen gave birth to our first child, Kyle. She had to raise him alone in Kitchener because the recession meant we couldn't sell our house and were very close to bankruptcy. Helen left her job and moved with Kyle to Moose Jaw, where we lived on a military base. And soon I was sent to Cold Lake (Alberta) to learn to fly CF-5S and then CF-18S fighters. In other words, this was the very beginning chapter of our life together in which a marriage either grows stronger or falls apart. When the Canadian government held its first astronaut recruitment in 1983, which included six, the tension did not subside at all. On the contrary, it seemed that the fulfillment of my dream became a little closer to reality. From that moment on, I received additional incentive to concentrate on my career. Helen enthusiastically supported the idea of overcoming all difficulties in pursuit of a goal, and this was one of the reasons for the success of our marriage.

Many of our friends have noticed that being married to an easy-going, proactive and high-standard woman who treats constant moving as a sport is certainly not easy. And I must admit that this is true - at times it was quite difficult to be Helen's husband. She is frighteningly active. Drop her in any city in the world, and in 24 hours she will select an apartment, furnish it with furniture from IKEA, which she herself will happily assemble, and even book tickets for a concert for which all tickets, in fact, have long been sold out. She raised three children, often serving as both parents as I spent a lot of time on the road. At the same time, she managed to simultaneously perform various responsible jobs, from managing the electronic document management system of a large enterprise to working as a professional chef. She's an example of a super-performing person, the type you want to have around when you're pursuing a high goal but don't want to miss out on the joys of ordinary human life. It may not require the help of the whole world, but it certainly does require a team.

This became abundantly clear to me when I was finishing my fighter pilot training and learned that I was being sent to Germany. Helen was heavily pregnant and we were expecting our second child. The prospect of moving to Europe was exciting. We were already mentally spending a vacation in Paris with our beautiful, obedient children who had mastered a third language, when we learned that plans had changed - we were moving to Bagoville (Quebec). I would become a CF-18S fighter pilot for NORAD (North American Aerospace Defense Command) and intercept Soviet aircraft straying into Canadian airspace. An excellent opportunity presented itself to join a new squadron, and Bagoville was a fairly attractive place. True, it is very cold there in winter, and in summer it’s still not Europe.

The next three years were quite difficult for my family. We were still making ends meet somehow. I was flying fighter jets (not for the faint of heart), and Helen, with no career in sight and no prospects for a good job, was sitting at home with two small boys: Evan, our second son, had been born just a few days before we moved to Bagoville. When he was seven months old, Helen became pregnant again. For us, this was not so much a happy event as the last straw. I imagined what our life would be like at 45, and I realized that if I didn’t leave fighter aviation, it would be very difficult for us. The squadron commander did not earn much more than me, while the workload was enormous, and there was no recognition; in general, the position of commander did not even come close to being a warm place. Among other things, the profession of a fighter pilot is life-threatening. Every year we lost at least one of our close friends.

So when I heard about Air Canada's hiring, I decided it was time to get realistic. Working for civil airlines was supposed to make our lives easier, and I was very familiar with the rhythm of life of a civil aviation pilot. I had already started taking the first classes to get my pilot's license when Helen intervened. She said: “You don’t really want to be a pilot and work for civil airlines. You will be unhappy in this job, which means I will be unhappy too. I can't let you and us do this. Don't give up on your dream of becoming an astronaut. Let's just wait a little longer and see how things work out."

So I stayed in the squadron and accidentally gained some experience as a test pilot: when the planes returned from repairs, I conducted test flights. And I, as they say, got hooked. Fighter pilots live to fly. Although I loved flying, I lived to study airplanes. I wanted to know why they behave the way they do in flight, and how to improve their design. My squadron colleagues were genuinely puzzled when I announced that I wanted to study to become a test pilot. In fact, is a person really ready to give up the glory of a fighter pilot in order to become an engineer? However, I was really drawn to the engineering side of my job and the opportunity to improve the efficiency of the aircraft and make it safer.

Canada did not have its own test pilot school, so usually each year two pilots were sent to France, Great Britain or the United States to study. In 1987, I pulled out a lucky ticket - I was sent to study in the Mediterranean, in France. We rented a beautiful house that came with a car. We packed our suitcases. We had a farewell party. And then, just two weeks before we had to put our three children on the plane (Christine was already about 9 months old), some disagreements arose between the governments of France and Canada at the highest level. France gave my seat to a pilot from another country. To say that this was a huge personal disappointment and a powerful setback professionally is an understatement. We were shocked. It looked like a dead end.

* * *

I have repeatedly discovered that things are never as bad (or as good) as they seem at first glance. Looking back, you realize that the most heartbreaking disaster can turn out to be a fortunate twist of fate. This time that is exactly what happened. A few months after France refused to accept me for training, I was selected to be sent to test pilot school at Edwards Air Force Base. The year we spent there changed our whole lives. It all started out great: we arrived in sunny Southern California in December, just as winter was closing in on Bagoville. Unfortunately, we could not settle into the base itself until the truck carrying our furniture arrived. This fortunately took a few weeks, but in the meantime we spent the Christmas holidays at a hotel in Disneyland.

The next year, 1988, was one of the busiest and best years of my life. Going to flight school was like getting a degree in flight. In one year we flew 32 different types of aircraft and were tested daily. It was incredibly difficult, but also incredibly fun: all of us, school cadets, lived on the same street, we were all about 30 years old, and, of course, we loved to have a good time. The training program was a perfect fit, as it emphasized the theoretical foundations of flight, mathematics, science, as well as friendly, even fraternal relationships. For the first time in my life, I was actually part of a group where every person was a lot like me. Many of us wanted to become astronauts, and there was no need to hide it. The test pilot school I ended up in was a direct route to NASA. Two of my classmates and close friends, Susan Helms and Rick Husband, followed this path and became astronauts.

However, it was completely unclear whether graduation from this school would be a ticket to the Canadian Space Agency (CSA). One could only guess when the CSA would announce a new set of astronauts, if at all. Only one fact was obvious: the first Canadian astronauts were excellent specialists, but they were passengers; scientists, but not pilots. By that time, I had almost completely decided that I would try to follow the path that future astronauts in the United States usually take. I might end up learning the wrong things to end up at the only space agency I had the right passport to work for, but it was too late to go any other way. The positive side of this decision was the fact that even if I never became an astronaut and remained a test pilot for the rest of my life, I would be confident that I had spent my life doing something worthwhile.

An excursion to the Space Center was organized for our class. Lyndon Johnson in Houston. We visited other flight test centers, such as Cold Lake, Alberta, and Patuxent River Naval Air Station in Maryland, where I ran into a Canadian test pilot who was there as part of another exchange program. Quite by chance, it turned out that his time at the air base was coming to an end and he would soon have to return to Cold Lake, so he assumed that someone would be sent to replace him, but he did not yet know who exactly. I told Helen about this, and in her gaze I read the question: “Are you thinking about the same thing I’m thinking about?”

That's exactly what I was thinking. Pax River is one of the largest testing centers in the world. The resources it has enable it to conduct cutting-edge research, such as testing new engines and new military aircraft designs, not only for the benefit of the United States, but also for many other countries, from Australia to Kuwait. Given the relatively small size of the Canadian Armed Forces, it is not surprising that far fewer aircraft are being tested at Cold Lake, and these are mostly modifications of existing models rather than aircraft with fundamentally new capabilities and characteristics. We enjoyed living in Cold Lake while I was learning to fly fighters, but we would be there for many years after I finished test pilot school, so we decided to try to find work in Pax River first. Besides, there was another reason to try: we were already used to warm winters. So I called my personnel manager (an officer whose job it was to understand all the forms and orders and fill them out better than anyone else) and said, “You know, the Army could save almost $50,000 if instead to transport my family back to Cold Lake and the other pilot's family to Pax River would simply send us straight to Maryland." The answer was very clear: “No way. You're going back." Well, it was worth a try. Yet the undeniable fact was that the Canadian government spent almost a million dollars on my training at test pilot school. So they had every right to tell me where to go.

We started preparing for the move again. But a month later the HR manager called me: “We have a great idea. What if we send you straight to Pax River?” My placement at Pax River seemed to have been helped by the fact that I was the top graduate of this year's test pilot school and led a team whose research project received top honors. For me, this was an important event, in which I found a reason for some national pride - a Canadian became the best graduate of the American Air Force flight school! I was even interviewed for a local newspaper in Cold Lake. However, the publishing house had a problem with the title for the article, so they called my school, where someone answered them: “Just call it “Canadian became the best graduate of the test pilot school” or something like that.” My friend sent me a copy of the article, which became not only a memento for me, but also a kind of test for my pride. You may ask, what title did you choose? And this one: “The Canadian became the best graduate of the Test Pilot School or something like that.”

Helen and I decided to combine our move to Pax River with a family vacation, so in December 1988, we loaded our stuff into our lightweight blue station wagon with fake wood paneling—a scary-looking car we nicknamed “The Limo”—and took a trip from California to Maryland. We were a young family with three children who went on our first trip to the southern states: we visited SeaWorld, climbed caves, celebrated Christmas in Baton Rouge - in short, we had a great time.

Our stay in Pax River turned out to be just as wonderful. We rented a house on a farm instead of living on base, which was a nice change for all of us. A short time later, Helen got a job as a realtor with a fairly flexible schedule. Kyle, Evan and Christine eventually went to school. And I was testing the F-18S fighter. Lifting a plane into the sky to the very limit until it lost control, and then trying to figure out how to restore it when the fighter fell to the ground. At first I was very cautious, because all my life I had been learning to fly airplanes, not tear them apart, but as I gained confidence, I began to experiment. In the end, I was caught up in curiosity: how far could I fly the plane out of control? In this test program, we developed several good methods for restoring controllability, sometimes quite unexpected, which in extreme conditions could save not only the aircraft, but also the life of the pilot.

Meanwhile, I couldn't help but think about what skills I would need if the CCA ever announced recruitment again. An advanced degree seemed to be a prerequisite, so I worked evenings and weekends to obtain a master's degree in aviation systems from the University of Tennessee, which had an excellent distance learning program. I only needed to appear there to defend my master's thesis. Although my most important achievement at Pax River was probably the first test flights of a hydrogen jet-powered aircraft, which could reach speeds well above the speed of sound. A paper we wrote with test engineer Sharon Hook based on our research received the Society of Test Pilots' highest award. For us, it was like winning an Oscar, no less, if only because the ceremony took place in Beverly Hills, and the audience consisted of such legendary pilots as Scott Crossfield - the first person in the world to fly at Mach number two, that is, at a speed twice the speed of sound.

To wrap up this topic, I was named 1991 US Navy Pilot of the Year. My “assignment” was coming to an end, and I had achieved the American dream, despite my citizenship. My plans were to relax a little and enjoy my last year in Maryland, spend more time with my kids, and play guitar more often. And then the Canadian Space Agency published an advertisement in the newspaper: astronauts are needed.

An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth Christopher Hadfield

(No ratings yet)

Title: An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth

About the book "An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth" by Christopher Hadfield

Who isn’t interested in learning how the ISS habitable modules are designed, how they brush their teeth in space, how they eat, sleep and go to the toilet? What are astronauts trained before a flight and what are they guided by when recruiting a team? What skills are needed in orbit and why are they useful in everyday life on Earth? Chris Hadfield has logged nearly 4,000 hours in space and is considered one of the most experienced and popular astronauts in the world. His knowledge of space flight and his ability to talk about it is interesting and unique. However, this book is not only about what space flight and life in orbit are like.

This is the story of a man who dreamed of space from the age of nine - and was able to realize his dream, although, it would seem, there was no chance of this. This is a real textbook of life for those who have a dream and the desire to realize it.

On our website about books lifeinbooks.net you can download for free without registration or read online the book “An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth” by Christopher Hadfield in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.

Christopher Hadfield is a true astronaut of our time. He not only fulfilled his dream and spent six months in orbit, but also did a lot to popularize space exploration. Christopher actively covered his flight on social networks and made videos for YouTube, which became incredibly popular. It was Hadfield who recorded the same cover of Bowie's song in space that took the Internet by storm. And, in addition, he wrote the book “An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth. What 4,000 hours in orbit taught me.” It has become one of the few bestsellers that seriously motivates and forces you to do something to move forward.

For 20 years now, children have not dreamed of becoming astronauts. The romance of space conquest, launches of Soyuz, shuttles and work on the orbital station have become routine and are featured in the news stories of central television channels somewhere between the increase in milk production and the chronicle of the next military conflict. Half a century ago everything was completely different. The smiling faces of space explorers looked at us from the covers of glossy magazines, each spacecraft launch became a global event, and the first cosmonauts and astronauts were real role models for millions of boys around the world.

One of these boys was 9-year-old Christopher Austin Hadfield from Canada. On July 21, 1969, he and his family went to a neighbor's house to watch the evening news. That evening, a great thing came from the TV: “This is one small step for a man, but a giant leap for all mankind,” Neil Armstrong, the first man to set foot on the surface of the Moon, said in a trembling voice live. That evening, Chris Hadfield left the house and looked into the night sky full of stars: “I will become an astronaut!” He decided, and his entire future life was devoted to achieving this goal.

As a result, Chris Hadfield became a real astronaut, and at the end of his career he wrote the book “An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth. What 4,000 hours in orbit taught me.” And we strongly recommend that you read it.

Hadfield talks in detail about his life's journey, his family and career, and the principles of life that he formed for himself and which, ultimately, allowed him to achieve impressive success. This book is about willpower, about the difficulties that need to be overcome to achieve your goal, and about the person who can do it.

At some point, you begin to catch yourself thinking that Hadfield’s book is reminiscent of such hacks as “5 ways to make a million,” “How to make 100,500 friends,” “An easy way to seduce a beauty,” and so on. But with every chapter you read, you realize that this is not at all the case. The author, who has made a successful career in the most closed profession, the best pilot, the best astronaut, the best of the best in everything, simply shares the story of his life and the principles by which he tried to build it. And the first lesson he gives is that you really must have principles and a plan for the future - only then can you achieve something on this planet and beyond.

Unlike other "motivational" books, Hadfield won't call you a failure if your plans go to hell one after another. Several times he makes an important caveat: even if you did not achieve the planned maximum, learn to enjoy what you have. A career as an astronaut is a one in a million goal, so you always need to have a backup plan and not rely entirely on your dream, the failure of which will completely devalue your life.

Among the useful moral teachings and valuable life advice, there is a place for all sorts of funny moments from the life of astronauts in space and on Earth. Yes, from this book you will also learn how space explorers go to the toilet on the ISS (both in small and large ways), what will happen if you scatter your cut nails in zero gravity and how to put out a fire on the ISS. But don’t expect the author to entertain you with all sorts of tales and anecdotes - that’s not what the book is about. This is a real “guide” that should help you become a strong-willed and successful person in any area of life.

Hadfield also tells in some detail the story of the very video for David Bowie's song Space Oddity, which brought him worldwide fame. Moreover, you will learn that Hadfield was a member of the world's only musical group, Max Q, consisting entirely of astronauts. The book is generally replete with various examples from the musical world, which sometimes turn out to be very suitable. Music for Chris Hadfield is still more than just a hobby.

Christopher Hadfield has come a long way from flight school cadet to test pilot to becoming an astronaut. He is one of the first Canadians to join NASA's space program and the first Canadian to perform a spacewalk. Hadfield completed three space flights: two under the Space Shuttle program with a total duration of 20 days 2 hours 00 minutes 44 seconds (during the first he was able to visit the Mir station) and one as part of the long-term expeditions ISS-34 and ISS-35, which he led (also the first Canadian commander on the ISS).

Hadfield's third flight lasted almost six months. Hadfield is one of the most successful popularizers of space exploration, he shot dozens of videos about the daily life of astronauts, which are still a huge hit with the public, gave dozens of lectures in a variety of audiences, and finally wrote this wonderful autobiographical book.

Here are some “life” tips from Hadfield, the rest will be found in his fascinating book:

Striving to be nothing

In spaceflight, the crew must act as a cohesive team, where everyone is responsible for their share of the work. This interaction sometimes takes years to develop, and is not limited to space flight alone: on Earth, astronauts support each other; NASA even has the “replacement husband” principle, when astronauts who are free from flights on an ongoing basis help the families of their comrades who are in this situation. time frolicking in zero gravity.

But the principles of a unified team and “expeditionary thinking” are by no means limited to the space industry; on Earth we are constantly involved in some common affairs - be it your routine work or organizing a family holiday. Hadfield offers his own model of behavior within the framework of such an expedition. Conventionally, he divides all people into three types: “-1”, “0” and “+1”. In the first case, a person interferes with the completion of a common task, messes up and makes mistakes; in the second, he listens more and speaks less, acting strictly within the limits of his authority; Well, in the third he goes beyond them and takes on part of the work of his colleagues. According to Hadfield, the most winning strategy seems to be to be a “zero.” At least when you find yourself in a new team or start a new job: listen, remember and try not to make fatal mistakes. Only by becoming 100% stronger in this position can you move on and earn authority by shifting some of the responsibilities of others onto yourself.

The benefits of negative thinking

Astronauts spend most of their time, of course, on Earth, and it is devoted to endless training. Over and over again, thousands of times, they practice all their actions during the flight of a spacecraft, and most of this training consists of practicing various emergency situations and accidents. Inventive instructors provide critical input one after another, which ultimately turns the failure of some innocuous switch into a failure of the life support system, a fire on board and an uncontrolled fall of the ship.

Astronauts are taught to always be alert and prepare for the worst-case scenario. Hadfield also encourages his readers to do the same. He gives several everyday examples: for example, when you are driving a car on a busy highway, watch out for that strange truck ahead, as it is capable of an inappropriate maneuver that can cause a fatal accident. Don't be a pessimist, but always be prepared for the worst case scenario and prepare your reaction to them - this will allow you to save your life and succeed. Simulate a disaster every minute and figure out how to avoid it.

Attention to details

The first time Hadfield worked in outer space, he encountered a serious problem: something got into his eye and he began to hurt unbearably. As you understand, it is impossible to reach under the helmet visor in outer space and remove a speck, and it is also impossible to wash it away with a tear, as we do at home on Earth - since in zero gravity tears do not drip anywhere, but simply collect in a uniform film on the eyeball. For several hours Hadfield suffered from terrible pain in his eyes, barely maintaining the ability to continue working. If he needed medical attention, the work would have to be curtailed, and this would jeopardize the entire space flight mission. In the end, it turned out that the cause was droplets of detergent, with which he carefully wiped the helmet visor from the inside before going into outer space. Since then, an important warning has appeared in the “red book” - a manual for all operations during space flight: paragraph 11.23 Thoroughly wipe the helmet visor from the inside with a dry rag before going into outer space.

The safety of space flights depends on a million of the most insignificant little things, which, when accumulated, can lead to truly catastrophic consequences. Exactly the same scheme operates on Earth. Hadfield calls for thinking through some important work in advance and preparing for significant events in your life more carefully. Choose your anniversary gifts a month in advance, prepare for your mother-in-law’s arrival a week in advance, write a good resume now - and then you won’t be caught off guard. When you have run through the entire procedure in your head several times, it will be much easier to complete the job. And yes, this also applies to exams at your university - preparation, that is preparation.

If anyone is worthy of listening to his advice, it is someone who has actually managed to achieve his dream through hard work and persistent pursuit of the goal. Christopher Austin Hadfield is one of those few whose instructions cause not rejection, but curiosity and acceptance - this guy clearly knows what he's talking about.