I saw an ad in the paper that led me to become the first Canadian in space. My journey took me to mission control, to space on the Challenger and to Ottawa's halls of power. This is my story

Marc Garneau never expected to become an astronaut. But he became the first Canadian in space, had an inside role in Canada's space program, was the voice of mission control, sailed across the Atlantic and back, and pursued a life in politics, becoming a Canadian government minister. His memoir "A Most Extraordinary Ride" comes out in October 2024. Here's an exclusive sneak peek. 

On an evening in June 1983, I was sitting at home after work, reading the Ottawa Citizen, when I stumbled on an ad from the National Research Council, or NRC, saying that Canada was, of all things, looking for astronauts. My first thought was why would Canada be looking for astronauts when we didn’t even have a rocket to launch them into space? Intrigued, I learned that NASA had invited two Canadians to fly on its space shuttle as a way of thanking us for having designed and built the Canadarm, the shuttle’s robotic arm.

The ad appeared in newspapers across the country for several weeks and, as you can imagine, it was a much-discussed topic on talk radio and in newspaper opinion pages. Canadians, of course, were thrilled about the possibility of one of us flying in space. How could we not be?

The possibility of becoming an astronaut awakened something in me, and I couldn’t brush it off. I felt myself vacillating between restrained excitement and the cold hard truth of how slim the odds were of being chosen. On top of that, I had just begun a new job, a job I loved and had worked hard to get. So why, I thought, would I want to throw a wrench in that, not to mention subject myself to the nearly sure risk of being rejected? Still, I could not shake the thought of being a pioneer on the frontier of space. I had watched the space program over the years and marvelled at the feats of astronauts and the incredible technology that took them into space and brought them back, but I had never for a second imagined myself in their place. What an extraordinary experience that would be, and not exactly an opportunity that comes along every day. 

Had the path I had chosen in my life prepared me for this moment? Did I have what it took? Although I was competitive by nature and tended to grab the bull by the horns, applying to become an astronaut was so extraordinary (and perhaps absurd) that I hesitated. Fear of failure can often hold us back.

I was also conscious that my wife Jacqueline had been through a very rough patch, and as her situation appeared to be improving, I did not want to add new stress to her life. With that in mind, I approached her in a lighthearted manner, treating the ad almost like a joke. When I showed it to her, I made sure not to come across as seriously intent on applying. I asked her what she thought. She smiled as she read it and, without the slightest hesitation, told me I should apply.

When I awoke the next morning, my mind was made up. I would apply, although I promised myself I would not get upset if I was turned down, by far the most probable outcome. Jacqueline and I had planned to go camping with the twins and I was resolved to forget the whole thing for a while and get on with my life. Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth. Having sent in my application, I could hardly wait for a reply and thought about it constantly.

Some time later, an envelope arrived in the mail and I opened it with trepidation. The news was good. I had made the first cut and would be considered in the next phase of the selection process. Although I did not know it at the time, over 4,300 people had applied, and they were now down to about 2,400. Most applicants were serious candidates, while a few less qualified but undeniably enthusiastic people had also applied, including a seventy-eight-year-old grandmother! Astronaut fever was clearly gripping the country, but I tried not to allow myself to get too excited. There was still a long way to go and the odds were still much against me. At least that’s how I saw it.