Nasa's Artemis II mission thundered away from Florida's coast, taking its four crew members on their historic journey to circle the Moon.

There was a deep rumbling as a sheet of brilliant white flame suddenly erupted, momentarily engulfing the whole launch pad as the mightiest rocket Nasa has ever built rose into the sky.

Nasa's Space Launch System (SLS) majestically crept upwards - slow at first, then gathering pace, riding on two blinding pillars of flame that crackled and roared with increasing volume until the rumbling was almost deafening, a sound we could feel in our bodies as we watched on in amazement, three miles (4.8km) away from the launch pad.

There were small cheers from those in the know as the rocket past the moment of maximum danger - one minute and 10 seconds into the launch. This is where the pressure hits the rocket the hardest, and when engineers know that even a small structural weakness can be disastrous.

There was no weakness, and SLS arced out over the Atlantic like a fiery white angel, leaving a white smoky trail as the sound subsided and the spacecraft disappeared from view, shrinking to a single bright star as it chased the Moon.

One person told me they felt quite emotional and another said they wanted to cry – no doubt a release of tension built up over the past few months when Artemis II came close to launch, but ended up being scrubbed for various reasons.

Tonight, though, Nasa employees were laughing and clapping - this is the moment that they have spent years working towards. There is still work to do, but for now they are bathing in the moment of triumph.

They concerned the launch abort system, which enables Nasa engineers to eject the astronauts and blow up the rocket if there is a malfunction.

The countdown clock was held at 10 minutes while engineers resolved the problem. They worked quickly, but it was an agonising wait to see if the launch could still go ahead.

Then came the staccato rhythm of the calls by each engineer responsible for the rocket's critical systems: "booster, go", "GNC, go", "range, go" – each reply, a tiny release of tension and a build-up of expectation.

"Artemis II, this is launch director," said Charlie Blackwell-Thompson, the first woman to hold the position at Nasa.

"You are go for launch," she told the crew. "We go for all humanity", Commander Reid Wiseman responded.

Cheesy words in normal circumstances, but that was the moment our spines began to tingle and we knew we were about to witness history.

The press corps headed outside, where clouds that had threatened to cancel the launch had evaporated.

As the countdown clock restarted, the atmosphere turned to electric anticipation.

The four RS 25 engines and twin solid rocket boosters lit up, driving more than 8.8 million pounds of thrust into the Florida evening sky.

"God Speed Artemis II" Blackwell-Thompson said in another echo from the past. The same words were used in a launch from here in 1962 to send John Glenn, the first American to orbit the Earth, on his way.

I have been lucky enough to see launches of the Space Shuttle to the International Space Station from the Kennedy Space Center. Those launches are almost as impressive in flight, surging into space with an enormous bang and rising at the speed of a bullet.

But the SLS launch was not only more beautiful, it meant much more: a moment full of emotion for all those who saw it, perhaps because it reminded us of what humanity can do when it comes together, or perhaps because we may be entering a new era of space travel.

In the 1990s, I had the opportunity to speak to Neil Armstrong, who, in 1969, became the first person to ever walk on the moon.

Our discussion came at a time when the dream of human space travel seemed to be over. I asked him whatever happened to that dream? He smiled and said "the reality may have faded but the dream is still there and it will come back in time".

Today was the day the dream returned. (BBC)

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