Cosmic

The Soviet/Russian forays into space either by their own cosmonauts or astronauts hitching a lift on the Soyuz Rocket on their way to the International Space Station have a remarkable safety record. This is no more emphasised by the fact that about 600 individuals have been privileged to look down at planet earth from the outer atmosphere after the hazardous blasting off process has run to plan.

In the entire history of Soviet and Russian space flight only four cosmonauts have lost their lives during a mission: the Soyuz 1 pilot, Vladimir Komarov, in 1967 and the three man crew of Soyuz 11 in 1971. No other nation has such a remarkable safety record and the Russians are keen to maintain it. Nothing is left to chance but even so superstition is never far away. An example of this is that no launches are scheduled for any October 24th as there have been two fatal accidents on this day. In 1960 prototype R-16 missile was ignited accidentally killing 78 to 120 people. In 1963 an R-9 rocket caught fire and killed seven people.

Another logic of superstition follows that if something was done a particular way one mission and it was successful, then it should be kept that way for the next. Why risk change?

One of these traditions can be traced back to the very first cosmonaut, Yuri Gagarin and his pioneering flight.

In April 1961, Gagarin was strapped into his capsule on the launch pad; the hatch had been closed, checks had been completed and he was ready to fly. With nothing to do but stare at the instrument panel a few centimetres in front of his face, he must have been a bit bored because he requested that mission control play some loud  music over the intercom. They slapped on a record of Russian love songs.This began a custom for pre-launch love songs even though Astronauts are a highly disciplined, highly trained and intrinsically tough bunch.

Here is a list of some of the rituals you would need to follow before boarding a Russian rocket: Not all of them make sense but when you are about to sit on top of 274 tonnes of explosive rocket fuel then you could be forgiven for seeking comfort in anything.

One of the most poignant memorials to space flight is an avenue of trees at Baikonur, Kazakhstan which is the launch centre or Cosmodrome for the Soyuz programme.

Planted over the past 50 years, each tree represents a mission and the cosmonauts who flew it. They not only commemorate those who made it into space, they also provide a living memorial to those who failed to make it back. Today, it is traditional for each crew member to plant his or her own sapling, a task that is relatively straightforward in the balmy Kazakh spring but less so in the bitter winter when the ground is rock hard with the onset permafrost conditions.

The night before a launch a tradition has arisen to watch a specific movie. "The White Sun of the Desert" is a Russian twist on the American western. It has not been widely seen outside of  Russia but it is held to be a classic by a good proportion of the movie going public. . Every astronaut that has flown from Baikonur since the early 1970's has ritually watched this film before launch.

In Russia everything needs to be signed for and that includes the rocket. It is traditional for the crew to sign-off their spacecraft to indicate their approval that it is fit for flight.

On the day of the launch, it is customary for the crew to sign their name on the door of their bedroom at the hotel.

The crew also sign a wall in the museum at Baikonur.  Like the avenue  of trees, these traditions serve as a testament to the longevity of the Soviet and Russian space programmes. On their return, the crew also very often sign the charred outer casing of their space capsule.

As they exit the hotel on their way to the launch pad a song by Земляне (Earthlings) is played called Трава у дома (Grass near home).

As the only spacecraft that takes astronauts into space launches from Baikonur, getting on board involves routines that stretch all the way back to Yuri Gagarin.

The most immediate, and debilitating, effect of leaving the planet is space sickness – a common complaint among even the fittest astronauts. With flights to the International Space Station now taking only six hours, and with dozens of complex course corrections to coordinate along the way, a vomiting crew is the last thing you need. One of the solutions devised by Russian space physiologists is to attempt to deliberately disorientate the astronauts before they launch. A few hours before flight, each crew member is spun on swivel chairs and tilted upside down on special beds to prepare them for the zero-G experience. There is some debate in the space community about whether any of this is effective. However, as long as you have a sick bag handy, it is at least something you can try at home.

A small jet aircraft taxis to a halt and men smothered in thick fur-lined coats position steps at the doorway. Three figures descend onto the cracked concrete as piped music blasts from a Soviet-era sound system. Baikonur in winter is inhospitable as a piercing wind blows across the Kazakh Steppe lifting snow from the icy ground. The grey leaden sky blends into the grey of the airport runway. Icicles hang precariously from the broken guttering of the hangars.Then incongruously a line of women – also dressed in coats, hats and gloves – start waving glittering gold-coloured pom-poms in the air. This is the traditional welcome that greets astronauts and cosmonauts arriving at Baikonur Cosmodrome for their trip to space. Its origins are unclear but no flight is complete without a flurry of pom-poms.

It is considered bad luck for the crew to watch their rocket being rolled out to the launch pad, so they are kept away. But, just as the crew have traditions to maintain, so do the engineers, support staff and astronaut families.

The Soyuz is moved from its hangar on a railway line, pulled along agonisingly slowly over several hours by a diesel locomotive. As the train inches towards the pad, spectators place coins on the track to be flattened by the wheels. This is believed to bring luck to the mission and, so far, has not led to any derailments or injuries.

With Orthodox Christianity resurgent in Russia, rockets waiting on the launchpad are now given a blessing by a priest. Those boarding do not escape a bit of a ceremonial slap with brush and cross in a solemnised wetting ceremony.

Watch the capsule interior video during any Russian rocket launch and you will notice a cuddly toy hanging from the instrument panel. For the May 2014 launch of Expedition 40 to the ISS, the toy in question was a cute toy giraffe belonging to the daughter of NASA astronaut, Reid Wiseman. Not only do these toys serve as mascots for the mission, they also serve a serious purpose. When the rockets have finished burning and the Soyuz reaches orbit, the toys will float free to indicate to the crew that they are now in weightlessness.

Probably the most extraordinary tradition of the Russian space programme also goes back to Gagarin and 1961..

On his way to the launch pad Gagarin asked the crew bus to stop so he could relieve himself. He got out and urinated against the back right-hand tyre.

Perhaps pre-flight nerves were behind Yuri Gagarin’s last-minute toilet break; but now each mission begins with a call of nature.

In 1961 the world’s first spaceman did not want globules of urine floating around his capsule.

It makes less sense today when astronauts wear nappies and are strapped into their three layer spacesuits, which are then sealed and leak tested before they get on the bus.

Nevertheless, male astronauts are still expected to leave their bus, unzip their suits and urinate on the back right hand tyre.

Suit technicians then have to go through the lengthy process of zipping them all up again. Female astronauts have been known to bring vials of their urine to splash on the wheel.

There is value in the established traditions but with the increasing numbers of astronauts and space tourists other new space traditions are likely to emerge in the Yuri Gagarin style.  

Thanks to the late Douglas Adams’ hugely influential Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, alongside tens of thousands of others around the globe, some astronauts now commemorate Towel Day on 25 May.

It will be interesting to see what else forms part of the pre-flight protocols in the future.