Hiking Bob – Explore Colorado’s Dark Skies

By Bob Falcone

Welcome to Colorful Colorado,” greets everyone who enters the state on any of the major highways. The state’s colors inspired Katherine Lee Bates to write “America the Beautiful” after seeing the purple mountains majesty and amber waves of grain from the summit of Pikes Peak.

Colorado is indeed colorful, and likely much more than Bates even imagined after her visit to America’s Mountain. It is never truer than at this time of the year, when wildflowers are in bloom from the plains to the high mountains. Bates probably didn’t see the various colors – more than just the red/orange we are accustomed to seeing – of Indian Paintbrush that exist only in the high elevations, or the many varieties of blue, white, yellow, purple, red and everything in between of all the varieties of flora that proliferate throughout Colorado from spring through summer and then into fall when the aspens turn into quaking gold. As a photographer, I am in my element during this time of the year. Each hike I go on has the side goal of looking for colorful nature to shoot.

When the sun goes down and the heavens open up, there is a star-studded glory … – Bob Falcone

And as beautiful as Colorado is in full color, it is arguably more – or at least, just as – beautiful in black and white in the darkness of night. When the sun goes down and the heavens open up, there is a star-studded glory that people in many parts of the country, especially on either coast, don’t get to see. And, while the Milky Way is technically visible in the sky all year-round, its galactic core is only visible from late spring to early fall, and of course, the darker the sky, the more visible it is. Colorado’s dark skies make it a haven not only for people who just want to star-gaze, but also for photographers, either based here or who flock here, to capture images of the Milky Way over scenic spots.

According to Dark Sky Colorado, a branch of Dark Sky International, has awarded eighteen locations with “Dark Sky” certification. Of these, twelve are parks and six are small towns or communities. The closest Dark Sky Certified parks to Colorado Springs are Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument and Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, and the closest Dark Sky Certified towns are Westcliffe and Silvercliff. Currently, only one Colorado State Park, Jackson Lake, is certified, however earlier this year Colorado Parks and Wildlife and the Colorado Tourism Office announced they are working to certify 12 additional state parks, including the Pikes Peak region’s Mueller and Eleven Mile State Parks. Dark Sky certification means more than a place is dark; it also means that the park or town has taken measures to reduce light pollution and preserve the nighttime viewing environment.

Find out more at https://darkskycolorado.org/colorados-international-dark-sky-places/.

Of course, there are many dark places to take in the expansive night skies that have not achieved any kind of certification. So next time you are out and about in the darkness, whether hiking or camping, stop what you’re doing, turn off your head light and take a few minutes to look up. Take it in. Watch for passing satellites, imagine where the passengers in that passing airplane are going, look for a meteor sacrificing itself to the atmosphere, and the longer you look, the more stars you’ll see.

Maybe take a picture, too. It’s deceptively easy to shoot nice photos of the Milky Way, but you will need someone to show how. My recommendation is Mike Pach at 3PeaksPhoto.com, and one of his many nighttime photography workshops.

Be good. Do good things. Leave No Trace.

Why Stargazing Matters for Society

Bonding under a starry sky in an age of anxiety, hyperpartisanship, and the attention economy

If you’re debating whether to spend two months’ salary to go on a guided Ayahuasca retreat in Costa Rica, try just spending a couple of evenings stargazing at a Dark Sky site first.

The second annual Lake City Star Fest in June of 2024 was my first stargazing festival. Due to the constraints of driving an electric car, and my own very marginal travel planning skills, my girlfriend and I arrived at the campground at Lake Fork Earth and Sky Center well after midnight on Saturday. 

I woke up groggy, but over the ensuing 36 hours of fascinating astronomy presentations, camaraderie, and stargazing, my appreciation for the vastness of our universe would be greatly strengthened. 

The right to stargaze is only one reason our work at DarkSky Colorado matters. Yet nothing makes the importance of our work more clear than looking up at our beautiful and incomprehensibly vast home galaxy. 

The afterglow from an evening of stargazing leaves you feeling grounded in a way you might have forgotten was possible. 

“Oh, hello, Sanity. I didn’t realize you had left, and now I remember how much I like you.”

We spend a lot of our time stooped over tiny touchscreen devices we call “phones,” even though we rarely use them to make calls. We masochistically doomscroll, squabble with people on social media, and nervously perform menial tasks that could often be left undone without consequence to anyone. 

The massively profitable tech, news, and entertainment media companies that rely on us to behave this way don’t pay us dividends, salaries, or stipends. But we’re working for them all the same. We allow these companies to noodle with our dopamine, cortisol, and melatonin. And we worry. 

And we worry. 

But once in a while, we get the chance to look up at something that reminds us how inconsequential our worries are. And rather than tempting us towards nihilism, this makes us realize how precious our lives are, not in spite of, but because of the fact that they’re such a flash in the pan. In the grand scheme of things, we’re not that consequential. So we can worry less. The stars remind us that on this cosmic timeline, we’re only around for an inconceivably short time. It’s pretty important to spend that time loving each other, pursuing happiness, taking risks, nourishing our souls, and occasionally embracing boredom. 

We returned to Lake City for the third annual Lake City Star Fest last month. This time, we brought five children and stepchildren ranging in age from nine to sixteen. Not all of them were excited about camping. Sometimes the middle kids in particular can be really blasé. A couple of the kids were disappointed about spending the weekend away from their friends. 

But after Saturday’s events, including several astronomy presentations, solar telescope viewing, and particularly stargazing from Slumgullion Pass (!), they we

Photo credit: Mike Pach | 3 Peaks Photography (link in photo)

re like different people. 

They were totally enchanted. 

When one of the kids who had been least enthusiastic at the outset asked “We’re coming back every year, right?” I knew that the trip had been well worth it. I also gathered from the way the rest of them vigorously nodded their heads that we had a consensus. 

At the outset, I expected that the kids would return home a bit more aware of life’s wonders. I didn’t expect them to be outright enchanted—and yet, they were. I certainly didn’t expect them to philosophize about the universe and the meaning of life —and yet, they did, in their own way. 

We came home from Lake City at least subtly happier, better grounded emotionally, and more grateful for our lives and one another. And so, I presume, did a couple hundred other people.

If you spend an evening or two under a clear, starry sky—the skies we at DarkSky Colorado work to preserve—you will feel more at ease, and more aware of life’s wonders, than when you arrived.

I promise.