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Reflections from a Week as an Analog Astronaut at the Mars Desert Research Station

  • Writer: Alex Kroll
    Alex Kroll
  • Nov 23
  • 3 min read

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I recently spent a week at the Mars Desert Research Station (MDRS) in Utah, serving as an Analog Astronaut in a full Martian mission simulation. Hosted by the University of Colorado Boulder’s Astronautics Department, the mission focused on researching human teaming dynamics in isolated and confined environments—an essential area of study for long duration human spaceflight.

Our six-person crew lived for six nights in a self-contained habitat complete with scientific workspaces, limited exercise equipment, individual bunks, and just enough comforts to stay functional without falling out of simulation. We conducted remote medical drills, VR-based operational tasks, and multiple scientific EVAs in the Utah desert - standing in as the red planet. I served as co-commander, and the experience was not only rewarding but also a powerful reminder of key principles central to safe, efficient flight test operations. I’d recommend the opportunity to anyone who gets the chance.

Forming a High Performance Team - Fast

Every crew member brought deep expertise: advanced degrees, years of professional experience, and specialized technical skills, as would be expected of real interplanetary crews. But unlike real astronaut teams, we had minimal prior interaction. Within 24 hours, though, we were solving operational problems, dividing responsibilities in the Hab(itat), and executing against mission objectives.

The mission forced us to move through the “forming, storming, norming, performing” arc at high speed. Two mindsets made that possible, and both map directly to real-world flight test:

  1. Trust people based on their experience.

  2. Define roles and communication standards immediately.

For flight test professionals, this is familiar: the commander or test director has to set the objectives and the boundaries, then rely on the team to do their jobs without micromanagement. A test pilot rarely sees every discussion in the control room, yet the system works because the team is trusted to execute. The same dynamic played out at MDRS. My own leadership mantra—Set the mission, enable people to do what they do best, and I’ll clean the floors—proved itself over and over.

Communication Is a Safety Mechanism

Unlike military or long-standing teams with shared training pipelines, our crew didn’t have a common formative background. That meant communication couldn't be left to chance. We quickly established daily briefs and debriefs, standardized our gesture and callout system for EVAs, and aligned on how we interfaced with Mission Control.

The experience reinforced a universal truth in flight test: meaning is not universal. Words, signals, even assumptions differ across disciplines. Without clarity, risk grows. With clarity, even a newly formed crew can operate safely in a dynamic, high-stakes environment.

Knowing When to Stop

Some tasks in the simulation were intentionally designed to be unsolvable within the available time, tools, or constraints. The lesson was straightforward: every mission—whether on Mars or in a flight test program—needs well-defined continuation criteria. Not every objective warrants pushing to the edge. Establish your aborts, bingos, and knock-it-offs early, and use them.

The instinct to “just push through” can be strong, especially in high-performing teams. But most things aren’t life-or-death, and unnecessary risk is rarely justified. There’s almost always another day to gather the data.

Getting Comfortable Being Uncomfortable

Many elements of the mission were designed specifically to generate uncertainty—minimal preparation before tasks, tight timelines, and unfamiliar equipment. That discomfort was intentional. We had to make the best decisions possible with limited information, which naturally created some apprehension.

But this is also where disciplined planning and training shine. Our crew stayed rational, calm, and methodical. We avoided second-guessing in the moment and respected the safety rules we had agreed on at the outset. When situations drifted toward personal or operational red lines, we recognized it early and corrected course. The first rule of any test remains unchanged: you need to be able to come back tomorrow.

A Final Takeaway

My week at MDRS was an unforgettable mix of research, exploration, leadership growth, and personal challenge. It expanded my appreciation for the complexities of human spaceflight and highlighted just how much high-reliability operations depend on trust, communication, and disciplined decision-making. I walked away with new insights, new skills, and a renewed sense of why flight testing (and interplanetary travel!) is both demanding and deeply rewarding.

And I learned a little more about what it might take for humans to work—and thrive—on another planet.

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