Imagine orbiting the moon, alone and cut off from all communication with Earth. For hours at a time, you’re surrounded by nothing but the silent void of space. This was the reality for Michael Collins, the oft-overlooked third member of the Apollo 11 crew—the man who made history but spent much of his mission in solitude. Yet, before his death in 2021, Collins hinted at a mystery that has left the world wondering: what did he see on the far side of the moon?

The Journey to Apollo

Michael Collins’ path to the stars began long before Apollo 11. Born in Rome, Italy, in 1930 to a family steeped in military tradition, Collins grew up with values of duty and discipline. His fascination with aviation was sparked by the exploits of Charles Lindbergh and stories from his uncle, General J. Lawton Collins, a World War II veteran. After excelling at St. Alban’s School in Washington, D.C., Collins followed his father’s footsteps to West Point, graduating in 1952.

But Collins’ true passion lay in flight. He joined the U.S. Air Force, trained at Columbus Air Force Base, and quickly distinguished himself as a skilled fighter pilot. Flying the F-86 Sabre, he learned the risks and rewards of high-performance aviation, losing friends in training accidents but earning respect for his calm under pressure.

In 1960, Collins attended the elite Air Force Experimental Flight Test Pilot School at Edwards Air Force Base, where he flew cutting-edge aircraft like the rocket-powered X-15. It was here that Collins first considered becoming an astronaut, drawn by the allure of space as the next great frontier.

NASA and the Space Race

The early 1960s were a time of intense competition between the United States and the Soviet Union. Collins applied to NASA’s astronaut corps in 1962 but was not selected on his first try. Undeterred, he reapplied in 1963 and was accepted into the “New Nine”—a group that included legends like Buzz Aldrin and Gene Cernan.

Collins’ first spaceflight came with Gemini 10 in 1966, where he became the first person to perform two spacewalks in a single mission. The skills he honed—docking, rendezvous, and extravehicular activity—were crucial for the upcoming Apollo missions.

Originally slated for Apollo 8, Collins was sidelined by a herniated disc but recovered in time to be named Command Module Pilot for Apollo 11. His role would be both technically demanding and psychologically taxing: while Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the lunar surface, Collins would orbit the moon alone, responsible for the command module and the safe return of his crew.

Training for the Unknown

Apollo 11’s training was legendary for its rigor. Collins, Armstrong, and Aldrin spent countless hours in simulators, rehearsing every scenario from launch to lunar landing to re-entry. Collins’ background as a test pilot served him well; he practiced solo orbits, docking maneuvers, and emergency repairs, all while maintaining his physical and psychological fitness.

NASA psychologists prepared Collins for the isolation he would face, out of radio contact with Earth for nearly an hour during each lunar orbit. But Collins approached the challenge with philosophical calm, viewing his solitude as a chance for reflection.

The Mission That Changed History

On July 16, 1969, Apollo 11 launched from Kennedy Space Center atop the Saturn V rocket. Collins, strapped into the command module Columbia, felt the immense power of the vehicle as it thundered toward space. After reaching Earth orbit and executing the trans-lunar injection, the crew coasted through the vacuum of space for three days.

Upon entering lunar orbit, Armstrong and Aldrin prepared the lunar module Eagle for descent. Collins remained in Columbia, orbiting the moon alone. For hours, he monitored systems, maintained communication, and prepared for the critical rendezvous after the moonwalk.

The docking was flawless, and the trio began their journey home. As Earth grew larger in their viewports, Collins continued his duties, but those who saw him noticed a quiet intensity—a man changed by what he had experienced.

Life After Apollo

After Apollo 11, Collins returned to Earth a hero, but unlike Armstrong and Aldrin, he shunned the spotlight. He left NASA in 1970, briefly served as Assistant Secretary of State for Public Affairs, and then became director of the National Air and Space Museum, overseeing its opening in 1976. Collins’ leadership helped shape the museum into one of the world’s most visited, celebrating the history of flight and space exploration.

He later worked as an aerospace consultant and authored several books, including his acclaimed autobiography Carrying the Fire. Known for his intellect and introspection, Collins preferred a private life, enjoying time with his wife Patricia and their three children, fishing and hiking in nature.

Collins remained an advocate for space exploration, mentoring younger astronauts and speaking at events. He believed in the power of human spaceflight to inspire and unite, and he kept up with advancements in technology, especially the prospect of missions to Mars.

The Mystery of the Far Side

Throughout his life, Collins was often asked about his experience orbiting the moon alone, especially those moments when he was out of contact with Earth. He became the first human to see the moon’s far side up close, passing over its mysterious terrain.

For years, Collins described his time alone as peaceful and contemplative. But in his later years, he began to hint at something more—an experience he had never shared. Before his death in April 2021, Collins reportedly broke his silence:

“I’m sorry we lied,” he said, his voice heavy with decades of secrecy. “There is something on the far side of the moon. They told me I couldn’t talk to anyone about what I saw, but there was something—something none of us could have ever expected.”

When asked if he felt lonely, Collins replied, “I felt anything but lonely.” Yet, he never revealed the details of what he encountered, taking the secret to his grave. His cryptic admission has left the world in suspense, fueling speculation and intrigue.

Was it a strange structure? An unknown phenomenon? Something beyond our current understanding of science? The truth remains shrouded in mystery.

Legacy and Unanswered Questions

Michael Collins leaves behind a legacy of exploration, courage, and quiet dignity. His contributions to aviation and spaceflight continue to inspire, and his mysterious statement about the far side of the moon has become part of the legend of Apollo 11.

Did Collins confide in someone—family, a trusted colleague, or friend—who might one day reveal the full story? The possibility lingers, and the unanswered question continues to intrigue and perplex.

The Power of Wonder

As we look back on the Apollo era, Michael Collins reminds us that exploration is not just about answers—it’s about wonder, curiosity, and the willingness to confront the unknown. His story challenges us to keep searching, keep questioning, and keep reaching for the stars.