Into the Heart of Darkness: Searching for the Stars In The Night Sky

From Scranton, I drove west. For an hour or so, I stuck to interstate highways. North central Pennsylvania is pretty and wild, with magnificent vistas of rolling hills and the gentle mountains of the Allegheny range.

But an interstate is an interstate, a slashing, wide ribbon of concrete streaming vehicles whose drivers jockey to get to where they are headed as fast as possible. I was in no such hurry.

Eventually, my GPS app took me onto a succession of state roads that wound north toward the New York state line. As I traveled, the roads narrowed, rose, dipped and turned. the traffic grew sparser, the towns grew smaller until there was no traffic and no towns, just a succession of rural houses and farms and campgrounds. I passed two restaurants, both closed. Above the entrance to one was a banner that read Fishermen Welcome. After that, there was pretty much nothing but forest.

I was heading to Cherry Springs State Park, to the darkness that was still at least a couple of hours away. The park has been recognized for the quality of its stargazing by the Arizona-based International Dark Sky Association (www.darksky.org). It's a closest IDA-certified site to New York City, about six-hour drive.

I was going there to look up.

Star light, star bright

The first star I see tonight;

I wish I may, I wish I might

Have the wish I wish tonight

-- Nursery rhyme

Nowadays, if you live in or even near a big city, that's a fanciful notion. In urban America, artificial light -- a symbol of progress and civilization -- has largely erased our view of nocturnal stars. What the IDA calls light pollution -- excessive, unnecessary illumination -- has dramatically markedly gotten worse in recent decades. The stars are still there, of course. It's just getting harder and harder to see them.

Ashley Wilson, IDA Director of Conservation, cited a study of satellite data from the 1990's that reported that two-thirds of the U.S. population and less than half of the population of Europe could no longer see the Milky Way at night from their homes.

Twenty years later, another study found that one-third of the world's population could no longer see the Milky Way, including 60 percent of Europeans and 80 percent of Americans.

If you're like me and believe you can remember living beneath a twinkling canopy of stars at night as a child, it's not just a nostalgic illusion. It's true.

"Arguably, the light bulb is the most transformative invention humans have introduced to this planet," wrote Nadia Drake in National Geographic in 2019. "But if light bulbs have a dark side, it's that they have stolen the night... In a primal sense, we've lost our connection to night time skies, the tapestries into which our ancestors wove their star-studded stories, timed the planting and harvesting of crops and deduced laws of physics governing the cosmos." It's a good thing Galileo didn't live in present-day Pisa.

One of the major culprits for light pollution is energy efficient LED -- light-emitting diodes -- lighting.

"LED's need less energy to produce the same amount of light hitting the surface (illuminance) than the fixtures they replaced," Wilson wrote me via email. "However, these new fixtures are often installed using a similar amount of energy and, as such, produce much more light. The increase in emitted light that is radiated toward the atmosphere and light that is reflected off of a surface like pavement both contribute to bright light domes, or skyglow."

The IDA says that not only does excessive light spoil our view of the stars, it can harm animals that depend on natural cycles of light and dark, and contributes to greenhouse gas emissions by homeowners "in the form of outdoor lighting that serves no useful purpose," according to Wilson. The association estimates that outdoor lighting makes up 30 percent of all energy use in the U.S.

The International Dark Sky Association has designated 197 locations worldwide as International Dark Sky Places (they choose from among locations that are nominated). At last count, there were 131 such locations in the U.S.

The park covers 82 acres and is surrounded by the 262,000 acres of the Susquehannock State Forest. Once, pine and hemlock grew here in abundance until the ineluctable forces of progress stepped in during the 19th century. The forest was denuded by the lumber industry which then departed when there was nothing left to cut down. In their place, hardwood trees grew -- sugar maple and black cherry trees that gave the park its name.

In the late 20th century, amateur stargazers figured out that the area, far from even a small city, had some of the darkest skies in the Northeast and started coming. In 2000, the state designated it a Dark Sky Park. Eight years later, it was awarded the Gold Tier International Dark Sky Park certification.

I parked in a sprawling grassy just off Route 44. It could hold hundreds of vehicles, but on this day -- it was Easter Sunday -- it was almost empty. Along side the lot was a manmade berm about 20 feet high and maybe 50 feet long. On the other side of it, protected from the headlights of arriving cars, was a large field flanked by towering trees. This was the Night Sky Public Viewing Area.

The sun slowly sank. It turned cold, the temperature just above freezing. A few cars arrived. Some of the people getting out had telescopes and marched around the berm to the viewing field.

Around 7:45 p.m., the sun set but it took nearly an hour for its orange-yellow glow to fully extinguish. Above, stars began to appear. At first, there were just a few isolated pinpricks of light, but more and more began to pop up, some bright, some dim; alone and in clusters.

The few visitors scattered about the viewing grew quiet, speaking softly, reverently as people do unconsciously when they enter a church or cathedral.

As I craned my neck to scan the darkening sky, I watched it become a velvet carpet pierced with studs of light. I thought: I have been missing this but I didn't when I know I was missing it until now.

Soon, there were a couple of dozen stars and the promise of more. But then, quite suddenly, they started to fade. The sky began to lighten as if bleached. In the east, a light that hadn't been there just minutes before now burned brightly behind the line of trees silhouetted along a distant ridge.

What was this?

"This" was full moon rising up to wash away the magic just as it had begun. I had failed to do my research. A full moon is the worst possible condition for stargazing of its brilliant luminescence. The show was over. That tantalizing glimpse of the cosmos was finished. It had been only a sample, a tease. Or maybe, I decided later, an invitation.

I went back to my car. A memory from years ago came rushing back. It had been 30 or even 40 years earlier. I was driving to Lake Tahoe, approaching from the south from Placerville. Somewhere near the crest of the Sierras, I pulled over. I got out and looked up. The sky was an explosion of stars and constellations, galaxies and probably planets. It was indescribably beautiful but also humbling. A work of car splashed upon nature's canvas. I hadn't thought about that in a long time.

Ashley Wilson of the IDA says satellite imagery data shows that "the land area of Earth illuminated by artificial light at night and the quantity of light emitted both grew at a global average of 2 percent per year."

"The global rate of growth of the human population during the same time was only about 1 percent a year (and declining), so it's fair to say that in most of the world, light pollution is increasing at a rate double that of the human population," she wrote to me. "That sets the stage for uncontrolled, exponential growth."

There is some good news. More and more states in the U.S. are becoming aware of the potential in stargazing tourism. Some are setting aside areas for stargazing and promoting them to tourists. In Nevada, a Sky Train traces a nighttime route through Great Basin National Park, one of two dark sky places in the state. Conde Nast Traveler magazine says the train in routinely sold out.

But, unless the global expansion of light pollution isn't reversed, the future for dark skies is not bright. Or rather, it's too bright. More and more abient light will make it harder and harder for people to experience the simple wonder of looking up and seeing what inspired the poet William Wordsworth to limn in poetry:

The stars are mansions built by Nature's hands

And, haply, there the spirits of the blest

Dwell, clothed in radiance, their immortal vest

Credit for cover photo: Getty Images

(*What can you do to fight light pollution? A lot. The IDA is a great resource for ways homeowners can help improve the nighttime environment, such as removing outdoor lighting that serves no purpose. You can also check to see if your lights are dark-sky friendly at: https://idsw.darksky.org/activities/dark-sky-friendly-home/)