Creek Running North

In elementary school and junior high I was a rather avid backyard astronomer. This was back in the early- to mid-70’s in suburban Detroit. I was frustrated at my repeated inability to find Andromeda, Mercury (too many trees and buildings along the horizon), or, worst of all, the Milky Way.

In the summer of 1978 my uncle took me white water rafting along the Green River in Utah. The outfitters did not provide tents—you either brought one or slept outside. My uncle quickly teamed up with a cute brunette and was able to share her tent. I, at a very awkward 16 years of age, wasn’t teaming up with anyone and, come evening, looked for rock overhangs under which I could spread my sleeping bag.

One evening the lead guide told me about an old Indian granary just a bit up the cliff from the campsite. I found the cleft in the rock, partially blocked with a who-knows-how-old rock wall, just as the clouds were rolling in. I crawled into the granary, rolled out my sleeping bag, snuggled in, and went to sleep.

That night I had some of the worst nightmares of my life. There seemed to be little difference between the storm outside and what was happening in my head. In a relatively lucid moment I decided it would be better to be wet, even in a down-filled bag, than to sleep any longer in that granary. The rain had stopped so I grabbed my sleeping bag, stumbled down to the canyon floor in the dark, rolled out my bag on the wet ground, and tried again to go to sleep.

When I next opened my eyes I was looking straight up. I could hear the river. The left and right third of my field of vision were pitch black—the canyon walls. The center third was filled with, what? Clouds? No. Clouds didn’t glow. It took some time to realize I was looking—for the first time—at the Milky Way.

In 29 years I have subsequently never, ever failed to be awed by the sight of the Milky Way. Friends of mine and I camp at least once a year along the banks of the Yuba River. I sleep alongside the river with a pair of binoculars by my side. As I wake up during the night I note how the canyon has rotated beneath the Milky Way. And I remember that night many years ago in Utah.

I’ve seen the Milky Way a few times, always away from home (Bremerton, Bellingham and Seattle WA.  I’ll be 41 in October, for my temporal location). 
I believe the first time I saw it was from my cousin’s farm in Dubois, ID.  Us kids would end up sleeping out on their trampoline in a big puppy-pile, and I remember being amazed at the difference in the sky, and delighted to finallly see the Milky Way.
I was probably 8 yrs old at the time, already a big SF reader, and definitely considered myself deprived in not being able to see it regularly.

Wow.  Thanks, Chris.  The responses here will be great fodder for my next three decades of lectures.

My experience?  As you know, my sky background is also one of rural and small-town landscapes of Central New York, but perhaps even more be-nighted than yours (Chenango vs. Buffalo).  My finest view of the Milky Way, though, was far, far afield from the Tug Hill Pleateau: central Australia, near Uluru and the Olgas, in April of 1986.  While I should have been scrutinizing Comet Halley, I was agog instead at the glory of the starcouds of Sagittarius.  My main memory of my trip South to, putatively, see this little comet is instead the arch of wonder from horizon to horizon afforded by the Milky Way.

If someone had asked me in 1984 if I had ever seen the Milky Way, I would have answered, “of course.” I hadn’t, though; one doesn’t really see the Milky Way until it’s seen from a dark, dark, Southern station.

I saw the Milky Way a number of times in my youth on various camping and country vacations, but cannot recall the first. But I do remember the first time I really saw it. I was drving west with a friend the summer after graduating from college (1972) when we stopped to sleep in a roadside park outside of Kimball, Nebraska. The combination of lack of lights, no moon, dry air and 360-degree horizon view all combined to make for an incredible display that I recall to this day. (About a month later driving back east, I had a similar experience with the Perseids - I was driving in the western Dakotas when I kept seeing what I first thought were insects crossing in front of the windshield - turned out it was the Perseids, frequent enough and bright enough to see through the windshield while heading north and east. Barely got any sleep that night enjoyng the show.)

See it all too infrequently anymore, but this weekend I happened to be on a quick loop that encompassed central PA and Southern tier of New York which took us very close to Cherry Springs State Park in PA, which per this NY Times article has become an East Coast mecca for stargazing. (It is in the middle of one of the “darker” areas in the east and they have set up a stargazing field.) Unfortunately we were busy in town Saturday night when conditions were ideal - and found myself too sedentary and lacking in imagination to at least do a quick pop out to the countryside to take a look.

That part of Nebraska is one of my favorite places.

I don’t think I’ve used that sentence before, but it’s true.

Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free,
That’s a place where I think you ought to go
Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky,
On the great plains of Old Nebrasky–O.

Have you heard about a country where the rivers run free,
That’s a place where I think you ought to go
Where the corn stands high, tall as the sky,
On the great plains of Old Nebrasky–O.

Eric Anderson
who has spent far more time in Amsterdam than in Lincoln, but the song is okay, anyway.

Well, I am not exactly a LURKER, but you KNOW I never shut up!

I was born with my nose in a book, and in addition, without my glasses I can only see about five inches. Add to that, I am NOTORIOUSLY oblivious to the world around me. PLUS, I live in a city.

So I KNEW there was this THING called the Milky Way (because I read about it in books), and it was supposed to be spectacular. But I never actually SAW it until I drove across New Mexico and stopped the car and looked at the sky, at around 19 years of age.

The first time I really saw it was in France, in the Normandy, while on a holiday with my parents, I think I was 14 or so. I climbed on the roof of the RV to watch the stars and there it was - much clearer that I had seen it before.
The last time I saw it was when I watched the Perseid meteor shower. I live in Hamburg (Germany) now and there’s usually too much light pollution to see it clearly or at all. But that night is was pretty visible.
The best view I ever got of the Milky Way was in Austin, Nevada. A short walk and climb from the campground on top of a hill gave me an awesome view of the night sky.

I think the first time I *really* saw it was in the desert when I was about 15. We were visiting my uncle who lives in Los Angeles, and we took a trip around California, Arizone, Nevada and Utah as part of the visit. We were staying for one night in Furnace Creek in Death Valley, and when we arrived the power had gone down for 50 miles around. So the place was pitch dark apart from candles in jars placed around the paths and the most spectacular stars I had ever seen. It was the first time I realised how majestic the Milky Way is - from a city street in the UK it’s just a paler part of the sky, like a drop of milk in a cup of black coffee, but with no light pollution in the middle of the desert, it’s spectacular. Everyone was amazed by how beautiful it was and I still remember it now - groups of strangers standing around gazing up at the stars and talking to each other about how incredible they were.

Since then I’ve been lucky enough to see the Milky Way from New Zealand earlier this year, on a dark night in Fox Glacier towards the beginning of autumn - the stars were so amazing that my boyfriend and I couldn’t stop looking at them despite the chill in the air.

Slightly off-topic, I saw Orion from the Wadi Rum desert in Jordan last year; getting out of the tent in the middle of the night to stumble across to the toilet, I was amazed by how much the constellation really did look like a man when you could see all of it, not just the stars bright enough to be visible through the usual background light pollution.

Hmm, I seem to be amazed a lot in the above comment. Must remember to proofread before posting…

I spent two weeks in the Utah desert with Boulder Outdoor Survival School when I was 21, and that was the first time in my life I discovered what the night sky really looked like. I miss that a lot when I look up at night now and the stars seem so weak and dim.

I first saw thew Milky Way while camping with my friends out west of Pike’s Peak, kind of between Florissant and Cripple Creek, CO. It was the early 80s, and I was eleven or twelve years old.

I had heard of the Milky Way before that, and had seen pictures in books, but I wasn’t really prepared for what I saw.

I grew up in the suburbs, but every couple months or so we would go spend the weekend at grandmom’s place in the country, where it was really dark.  I never was very good at finding many of the stars, but at least I grew up knowing about the milky way.

Actually, I just wanted to comment here because I haven’t - at least not for a year or so.

I grew up seeing the Milky Way from a hilltop in rural western Pennsylvania. We saw Bootes and Ursa Major from one bedroom window and Cassiopeia and the Charioteer from the other.

I haven’t seen the Charioteer for about 15 years. Where I live now, Orion’s barely bright enough to shine through the light pollution.

I can’t remember the first time I saw the Milky Way. My mother taught me the stars when I was a kid, and we occasionally had dark enough skies to see the Milky Way.

I can remember the last time fairly well, though. That would be last night! I was awakened in the wee hours by a noise that made me think that perhaps my horse had gotten out, so I had to go out and check. Just some deer under the apple trees enjoying some windfalls.

I looked up to see an exceptionally clear sky, and a blazing Milky Way. And Winter stars rising.

I live in rural central NH, and see the Milky Way every clear night, no problem, but last night was really something special. Reminded me of my years poking around the canyon country in AZ/UT back in the day… those were some clear skies…

- Steve

never seen it in my life. but then i’m only 30 and have just recently begun to feel the urge to take my eyes off the urban lifestyle and look around at nature. on the positive side this urge seems to be growing by the day

Don’t remember the first first time, though it may have been when I got to Arizona in ‘04 - that was the first time I saw it and thought, “oh, that’s why they call it the Milky Way.” The best time was hanging out the window of a stalled bus in middle-of-nowhere Bolivia. The last time was biking home from the bar a few nights ago, when we almost crashed from the looking.

I’ve seen it a couple of times, but it doesn’t compare with a sunrise over Lake Ontario on a clear morn from the end of the Leslie Street spit, for sheer awe-making. I imagine sunrise in the desert is much the same.

I don’t know that I’ve seen it yet, in its full glory.

The first time I was out of the city was for a few days, sometime in my mid teens. I was visiting a friend’s family up in the Palmdale area, I think it was (of CA) which, at that time at least, was not very built up.

I was pretty freaked out anyway by all the vegetation and dirt, not to mention the darkness and the silence, but I got the shock of my life when I ventured outside one night and looked up and saw a sky absolutely littered with stars. I had no idea so many stars even still existed, having only seen - at the most - maybe 40 or so in the sky on a clear, fairly dark city night. It had been my belief that - like clear blue skies, every day - skies full of stars were just something in the books about Way Back When.

Over the years I’ve had different constellations and such pointed out to me, including the Milky Way, but I don’t believe I’ve yet been in full darkness (after the Northridge quake it didn’t occur to me to look up and besides, generators all over the place kicked in), so I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the full effect.

I too have been thinking about your picture since I first saw it, though.

Nice to read all of the comments written so far.

I grew up spending summers at our family cottage northwest of Ottawa.  The stars were always wonderful up there.  We had a diving raft anchored in front of the cottage. That was the best spot to lie on the canvas deck, the waves lapping against the raft as the anchor chain gently clanked.  The Milk Way was spectacular at that location back then (c. early 1960s).  A marina was built nearby a few years later and that sort of ruined the night sky around there. 

I still see the Milky Way here at my farm which is southwest of Ottawa.  In fact, I saw it a couple of nights ago.  It’s not quite as good as when we moved here 32 years ago, but it’s still impressive.

Best night sky view here is of Orion on very cold, clear, winter nights—the kind of night when you go for a late evening walk and the snow crunches like you’re walking on a big sheet of styrofoam.  Looking up at Orion can practically send you into a swoon.

Well.  Just last week I changed my desktop background to this photo from NASA: the Milky Way viewed from Death Valley. (Warning: addictive site!)

Lovely post and responses, y’all.  I don’t recall the first time I saw it (possibly along with the northern lights, in Alaska), but most recently we went out for the Perseids in August, and the Way was gorgeous from atop the ridge in the Santa Cruz Mountains.

As soitnly points out:Friends of mine and I camp at least once a year along the banks of the Yuba River; it is remarkable how one can still see the beautiful night skies in the Gold Country of the Sierra.  Prior to my retirement four years ago, i had lived in Nevada City (and on the Ridge) for the previous fifteen years, and the decade before that i lived in Alpine County (above 6500’).  I grew accustomed to constantly seeing the clear night skies, with the Milky Way and billions of stars (thanks Chris for the Sagan referent). 
Now i realize that only when i return to the Ridge each summer do i get to experience those wonders on a regular basis.  And i actually look forward to doing that, spending hours sitting under the dome of points of lights and smeared wonder of the galaxy to which we are appended.  I even remember to put on my glasses, saddened a little that i need to do that.

It was also great to see it on tour this summer on the “floor of the sky,” the great plains and in the Ozarks.  But the traveling across this nation, especially from the air, revealed why so many can’t.  There is hardly any place left in the great western part of the US that is without some night-lighted paths or townscapes.  Even that most remote of states, Nevada, is beginning to fill with lighted lines. 

Oh, and my first experience that i remember, with the billions and billions, was as a young child in 1950 (BADC?) on the beach in Playa del Rey. After that we lived on the top of the Santa Monica Mtns where it can still be experienced on clear nights.  There is a reason they originally built Griffith Park, Mt Wilson, Mt Palomar et all down in SoCal once upon a time.  Sad that....

I grew up 35 miles from downtown Chicago—bright skies.

I went to college in southern Minnesota, where I saw a lot more stars in the sky and, on rare occasion, the northern lights. I didn’t hang out with an astronomically oriented crowd, though, and never looked for anything in particular in the sky other than the couple of constellations I can recognize.

Now I live in the heart of Chicago, and there’s not much to see up there. Maybe if I had a boat and could get out into the lake, I’d see more.

embee, I just dropped dead of longing with that Racetrack Playa photo.

The sun and you and me and all the stars that we can see,
Are moving at a million miles a day
In an outer spiral arm, at 40,000 miles an hour
Of the Galaxy we call the Milky Way.

Our Galaxy itself contains 100 billion stars
It’s 100,000 light years side to side
It bulges in the middle, 16,000 light years thick
But out by us it’s just 3,000 light years wide

We’re 30,000 light years from galactic central point,
We go round every 200 million years
And our Galaxy is only one of millions and billions
In this amazing and expanding Universe.

The Universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding in all of the directions it can whizz.
As fast as it can go, at the speed of light you know,
12 million miles a minute, and that’s the fastest speed there is.

So remember when you’re feeling very small and insecure
How amazingly unlikely is your birth
And pray that there’s intelligent life somewhere up in space,
Because there’s bugger all down here on Earth.

- Galaxy Song, Idle & Du Prez

Galactic feelings when gazing at that spurt of milk.
It’s a sheltering sky indeed, our universe/ mother’s arms like a vault holding us here at the edge of darkness as we whirl into eternity.
Me and my sisters understood this when we bedded down outside on the lawn in heatwave summers.  Can’t remember whether the Phillips Atlas reading came first or whether we had already felt the spin/comfort you feel when looking up from lying down.
My sisters are all 3 dead now, but we’re all still together here on this rock, still whizzing out to infinity.