written by Marla Lynn Welsch

Nine analog astronauts. One underground bunker in Switzerland. Fourteen days in isolation. What can an analog Moon or Mars mission teach us about how humans function when they cannot simply walk away?

When you picture an astronaut, you might imagine spacesuits, rockets, and spectacular missions in space. What is less obvious is that future exploration will also require something much more human: living together, working together, communicating, and learning how to regulate yourself.

During Asclepios VI, I had the chance to experience exactly that. After a year of training, including several in-person sessions and countless online trainings, it was finally time: our nine-person crew moved into an underground habitat in Switzerland for 14 days.

My first impression was surprisingly positive. The bunker was much bigger than I had expected. At the same time, it felt cold, bare, and not particularly homely. We quickly started decorating it with personal belongings and flags. We wanted to turn a technical habitat into a place where we could actually live.

The first days were difficult nonetheless. I was incredibly excited to finally see my crew again, but suddenly my phone was gone. No messages. No quick check of what was happening outside the habitat. On top of that, our daily rhythm was completely shifted: waking up around 10 p.m., going to sleep around 2 p.m., and dealing with exhaustion and jet lag.

Four people slept right next to each other on camp beds while the base continued operating around us and different shifts were active.

And then there was time.

It simply did not seem to pass.

One of the biggest surprises of the mission was how difficult boredom could be. When you cannot simply go outside, meet friends, or spontaneously do something different, you have to learn how to deal with yourself and your environment.

At the same time, our perception of what was “special” changed.

A Sudoku could suddenly become a genuine highlight. A downloaded movie became an event. We even had a “premium movie night” watching Pirates of the Caribbean – although it was simply a film we had downloaded before entering isolation.

Without a phone, television, game console, or the endless entertainment options of everyday life, ordinary things suddenly became valuable.

That shift in perspective also followed me beyond the small everyday moments.

I wrote a lot during the mission, and I thought a lot. Being removed from everyday life created a strange feeling of distance, almost as if I had actually left for a while. It gave me a much clearer perspective on my own life: my relationships, my goals, my everyday routine, and the things I actually want to spend my time and energy on.

Isolation Does Not Mean Being Alone

What stayed with me most from Asclepios VI is therefore not a single piece of technology or experiment.

It is my crew.

We had deep conversations, listened to music, danced, laughed, and supported each other. There were moments when we shared very personal things and suddenly found ourselves all becoming emotional together. Those moments made something very clear to me: human connection is not a luxury in an isolated environment. It is part of what allows a crew to function.

Astronauts are not superhuman.

They function fundamentally like other people. We get tired. We experience stress. We miss people. We need conversations. We have bad days.

The difference is that a mission leaves very little room to simply ignore these things.

You cannot just withdraw and hope a problem disappears. You cannot stop communicating. And you cannot deal with everything on your own.

This is especially important when it comes to medical situations.

As Crew Medical Officer, I had to learn to stay alert and not dismiss things too quickly. My medical training had taught me to think in terms of green, yellow, and red situations. In an analog mission, however, this also means communicating what is happening. Mission Control and the medical team need to know. You cannot simply decide to deal with everything yourself.

That was one of my most important personal lessons: being a Medical Officer does not mean being able to solve everything yourself. It also means communicating early, taking responsibility, and standing up for your crew.

Small Problems Can Become Big Problems

Isolation also makes you realise how strongly everyday things can affect performance.

For example, our food was freeze-dried and had to be rehydrated with water. If you drink less and move less than usual, something as ordinary as digestion can become a problem. On top of that, we had sleep disruptions, changing shifts, and the fact that there was almost always another expedition or task waiting for us.

None of these things sound particularly spectacular.

But when you cannot sleep properly or your digestion is not working, it can affect you significantly – and therefore also affect your ability to function reliably as a crew member.

This is one of the reasons analog missions are so valuable. They allow us to investigate not only spectacular emergencies, but also the small factors that accumulate over days and influence health, motivation, and performance.

Dieser Artikel ist auch verfügbar auf: