When you think about venturing beyond our blue planet, the phrase 10 joys terrors instantly captures the roller‑coaster of emotions that spacefarers endure. From moments that make the heart race with pure delight to those that send a cold shiver down the spine, the cosmos offers a spectacular blend of wonder and danger. Below, we count down the most unforgettable experiences, each one a vivid illustration of why space remains humanity’s ultimate adventure.
10 joys terrors Overview
This list blends jaw‑dropping thrills with gut‑wrenching scares, proving that the final frontier is as much a psychological battlefield as a physical one. Strap in, because we’re about to orbit through ten unforgettable episodes.
10 Terror: Blinded During A Spacewalk
The very notion of a spacewalk, or EVA (extravehicular activity), is a terrifying one in which the astronaut leaves the confines and safety of his ship or station with only a tether to keep him from drifting into infinite nothingness. Particularly terrifying would be losing one of your most important senses during the venture. This is exactly what happened to Commander Chris Hadfield during a spacewalk in 2001.
During such a spacewalk, maintaining an uninterrupted view is crucial for efficiency. To keep the visor from fogging, an oil‑and‑soap solution coats its interior. In a twist of cruel irony, that same solution became the culprit that robbed Hadfield of his sight.
Sweat or tears made contact with the antifog coating and floated straight into his eye, causing instant blindness as his eye began to tear up. Hadfield recalled, “I thought, well, I—maybe that’s why we have two eyes. So I kept working.”
With one eye temporarily blinded, tears would normally be harmless, but in microgravity they refused to fall. Instead, they coalesced into a floating glob that grew until it enveloped his other eye, leaving him completely sightless while drifting outside his spacecraft.
Relying on rigorous training and the trust of his crew, Hadfield let his body produce enough tears to dilute the antifog solution, eventually seeing through the milky puddle. After negotiating with Houston, he managed to finish the task, illustrating how perception of danger versus actual risk can be the difference between panic and performance.
9 Joy: A Music Video In Space
Not all of Commander Hadfield’s experiences in space were harrowing ordeals. He also found the time to work on a “family project” with his son. Namely, they recorded footage of the commander singing and playing “Space Oddity” by David Bowie with the International Space Station’s own guitar and edited it into a music video, the first ever made in orbit.
The guitar arrived aboard the ISS aboard Space Shuttle Discovery in 2001. Over the years, the station’s musical arsenal grew to include a flute, a keyboard, a saxophone, and even an Australian didgeridoo.
Hadfield relayed David Bowie’s reaction, noting, “He described it as the most poignant version of the song ever done, which just floored me. I think, for him, he knew he was ill—it was getting to the end of his life. He wrote that song at the beginning, when he was still 19 or 20, before we had even walked on the Moon.”
He added, “He had always fantasized about flying in space—Starman and Mars and all that other stuff, and I think for him it was just like a gift, to have that song updated with the lyrics, performed actually in space, just a couple of years before he was taken. To me, that might be the best part—that he got delight out of my particular version of the song.”
8 Terror: Nearly Drowning In Space
Approximately 385 kilometers (240 miles) away from any ocean, lake, pond, creek, or pool, one might assume a fear of drowning could be safely ignored while serving aboard the International Space Station. Astronaut Luca Parmitano faced this danger during a July 2013 spacewalk when he began to feel liquid pooling at the back of his helmet.
He initially thought it was sweat, but the amount and taste—a metallic, icy droplet—didn’t match the station’s drinking water. After consulting his partner and mission control, the extravehicular activity was aborted, and a carefully choreographed withdrawal was ordered.
Both astronauts had to split routes back to the airlock to avoid tangled tethers. Parmitano, alone, trudged back while his helmet slowly filled with a mysterious fluid. A flip to avoid an obstacle sent the growing blob into his eyes and nostrils, blinding him and threatening his breath. Simultaneously, his headset failed, leaving him to shout, “I’ve been told that I was cool as a cucumber. The truth is that I was trying to talk.”
It took 24 minutes to re‑enter the airlock and another 11 minutes to strip the suit. While waiting for repressurization, Parmitano described his senses: “I was just waiting for the [repressurization] to end, taking it one second at a time. At that point, I’m virtually isolated from a sensory point of view. I can’t hear. I can’t really see. I can’t move. Every time I moved, the water sloshed around.”
His partner, Chris Cassidy, recalled the moment: “[The water was] sort of bouncing around his nostrils. That’s when my senses really got heightened. So I grabbed his hand, just kind of squeezing it. He squeezed it back, so I knew he was okay.”
After the helmet was removed, about 1.4 liters (1.5 qt) of water was mopped away. The culprit was a failed fan pump separator. Since then, a snorkel‑like addition has been fitted to spacesuits, granting astronauts a breathing path should their helmets flood again.
7 Joy: Smuggling Sandwiches Into Space
During the early NASA missions, food was bland and tasteless, leaving some astronauts yearning for something more flavorful. One such astronaut, John Young, decided to take matters into his own hands by sneaking a corned‑beef sandwich aboard the Gemini 3 mission.
Gemini 3 was the first American two‑man spaceflight, and Young naturally offered a bite to his crewmate, Gus Grissom. The mission transcript captured their brief exchange:
“What is it?” Grissom asked.
“Corned beef sandwich,” Young replied.
“Where did that come from?”
“I brought it with me. Let’s see how it tastes. Smells, doesn’t it?”
Grissom accepted the bite, but the rye bread crumbled quickly, sending crumbs scattering throughout the cabin. Young later admitted the sandwich was “a thought … not a very good one.” Grissom, however, stayed upbeat: “Pretty good, though, if it would just hold together.”
The conversation lasted under a minute, yet the incident attracted heat from the U.S. House Committee on Appropriations, dubbing it the $30 million sandwich. NASA’s associate administrator for manned flight, George Mueller, made the agency’s stance clear: “We have taken steps … to prevent recurrence of corned beef sandwiches in future flights.”
Ironically, corned‑beef sandwiches later appeared on the official menu in April 1981, first served on a shuttle mission commanded by Young himself, suggesting that the once‑taboo treat eventually earned a place in astronaut cuisine.
6 Terror: Ballistic Landings
You may have heard the term “controlled descent.” It describes a gentle, paper‑airplane‑like glide back to Earth, minimizing strain on both vehicle and crew. In contrast, a ballistic re‑entry is a harsh, steep plunge that subjects the capsule and its occupants to severe g‑forces—more akin to a falling rock than a feather‑light glide.
When Yi So‑yeon, the first Korean in space, returned from her inaugural ISS stay alongside Peggy Whitson and Yuri Malenchenko, her Soyuz capsule failed to execute a controlled descent. The reasons remain murky, but the vehicle entered a steep ballistic trajectory, landing nearly 480 kilometers (300 mi) off its intended zone in Kazakhstan.
Upon emergence, the trio was greeted by a startled group of nomads. Yi recalled, “The nomads were surprised when Yuri climbed out of the capsule. They very well would have been since a ball of fire fell from the sky and then a white object crawled out of it.”
All three astronauts emerged largely unharmed, yet the experience was undeniably terrifying. Yi described the high‑g descent: “I thought that this is how I might die.”
This incident underscores how even a routine return can transform into a pulse‑pounding ordeal when a ballistic re‑entry occurs, reminding us that space travel’s dangers linger right up to touchdown.
5 Joy: Peeing On The Whole World
During John Glenn’s five‑hour Mercury flight—the first American orbital mission—he was trained to report every observation, from constellations to his own bodily sensations. Among the unexpected phenomena he described were dazzling, glittering particles he dubbed “fireflies.”
Glenn radioed back to Earth: “This is Friendship Seven. I’ll try to describe what I’m in here. I am in a big mass of some very small particles that are brilliantly lit up like they’re luminescent. I never saw anything like it. They round a little. They’re coming by the capsule, and they look like little stars. A whole shower of them coming by.”
He continued, noting their brilliance and spacing: “They swirl around the capsule and go in front of the window, and they’re all brilliantly lighted. They probably average maybe [2.1 or 2.4 meters (7 or 8 ft) apart], but I can see them all down below me, also.”
Future missions were tasked with photographing these “fireflies.” The next Mercury astronaut, Scott Carpenter, concluded they were simply frost particles escaping the spacecraft and sparkling in sunlight. Yet the story didn’t end there.
Astronaut Walter “Wally” Schirra later reported that some of the fireflies originated from water released by the suit’s cooling system—and even from astronaut urine. He joked, “We peed all over the world,” and logged the resulting droplets as a new “constellation” called Urion. The images, mixed with other celestial photos, amused scientists, with Dr. Jocelyn Gill asking, “Wally, what constellation is this?” Schirra replied, “That’s the constellation Urion.”
4 Terror: Exposure To Toxic Gas
When the United States and the Soviet Union set aside Cold‑War rivalry for a joint venture in 1975, the Apollo‑Soyuz Test Project aimed to prove that two disparate spacecraft could dock safely in orbit. The mission succeeded, showcasing international cooperation.
However, the return leg delivered a chilling surprise. At roughly 7,000 meters (23,000 ft) altitude, the US crew’s capsule began filling with a brownish‑yellow vapor, later suspected to be nitrogen tetroxide—a toxic propellant used for maneuvering.
Deke Slayton downplayed the incident, saying, “We picked up a little smoke on the way, and we were coughing and hacking pretty good in there.” Yet the exposure lasted nine to eleven minutes, enough to render astronaut Vance Brand unconscious.
Upon splashdown, the crew scrambled for oxygen masks. Brand awoke after a quick adjustment, and the team received medical attention. Though the gas caused temporary irritation, there were no lasting health effects.
Despite the panic, the mission concluded successfully, paving the way for future cooperative ventures like the Shuttle‑Mir program two decades later.
3 Joy: Space Darts And Hide‑And‑Seek
Putting payloads into orbit costs about $4,500 per kilogram ($10,000 per pound), so luxuries are scarce aboard the International Space Station. Astronauts therefore improvise their own entertainment.
Hide‑and‑seek thrives on the ISS because the station, roughly the size of a football field, offers plenty of hiding spots despite its 18.6‑meter (61‑ft) narrower width than the Star Trek USS Enterprise.
Another creative pastime emerged when Chris Hadfield fashioned “space darts.” Normal high‑speed metal darts would be dangerous in microgravity, so he engineered a slow‑moving version using a battery for weight, Velcro, zip ties, and a paper feather. The darts adhered gently to a target, turning a simple game into a zero‑gravity pastime.
2 Terror: Stranded In Siberia
After performing the first ever spacewalk, Alexei Leonov’s suit ballooned in the vacuum, forcing him to bleed oxygen to shrink it enough to re‑enter the airlock. He survived that ordeal, only to face a second crisis on descent.
Leonov and his crewmate, Pavel Belyayev, experienced a guidance system failure, forcing them to manually pilot their Soyuz capsule. Complicating matters, a communication cable remained attached to the orbital module, twisting and subjecting them to severe g‑forces that even ruptured blood vessels in Leonov’s eyes.
The malfunction sent them wildly off‑course. Aiming for Perm, they instead landed roughly 2,000 kilometers (1,245 mi) beyond, deep within the Siberian taiga.
Leonov later wrote, “We were only too aware that the taiga where we had landed was the habitat of bears and wolves. It was spring, the mating season, when both animals are at their most aggressive. We had only one pistol aboard our spacecraft, but we had plenty of ammunition.”
Temperatures plunged to –30 °C (–22 °F) that first night. As darkness fell, the wind howled, and the snow‑filled suit swelled with sweat, Leonov described: “We stripped naked to rid ourselves of the moisture. The inner layers were soft; the outer ones were stiff and had to be discarded. We took refuge in the cracked capsule, which had a gaping hole where the hatch had been.”
After two frigid nights, rescue teams arrived. Though no predators attacked them, the experience prompted future cosmonauts to demand more powerful firearms for potential wilderness survival.
1 Joy: The Cupola Observational Module
The Cupola is a compact, dome‑shaped module attached to the International Space Station. Officially, it serves to observe external operations—robotic activities, vehicle approaches, and spacewalks.
Beyond its technical purpose, the Cupola offers a breathtaking gallery of Earth’s ever‑changing beauty. Chris Hadfield described it as “a self‑propelled art gallery of fantastic changing beauty that is the world itself.” Astronauts from around the globe have floated inside, mesmerized by the view.
Italian astronaut Paolo Nespoli reflected, “I felt like a scientist peering through a microscope, taking pictures of a small sphere rotating below, discovering microscopic things. I’d look at the pictures and realize those things were 20 kilometers (12.4 mi) in diameter.”
Even Alan Shepard, the first American in space, sensed something profound when gazing out of his own window: “Instead of an intellectual search, there was suddenly a very deep gut feeling that something was different… I saw this blue‑and‑white planet floating there, knowing it was orbiting the Sun, seeing the Sun set against a velvety black cosmos… I suddenly experienced the universe as intelligent, loving, harmonious.”
The Cupola thus stands as a reminder that amid the perils of space travel, moments of pure awe and joy can be found looking back at our home planet.