Early August – 2:30 am
Damn it – What am I doing wrong? I muttered to myself. Camera controls glowed as I struggled to adjust the settings to capture the view in front of me. The cold made my fingers stiff, and the tiny dials seemed more finicky than usual. Each adjustment felt like a gamble. I tried to balance the exposure without overexposing the stars or losing the Milky Way’s details. I cursed under my breath, as only a Marine can, fumbling to find the proper focus while the faint hum of mosquitoes amplified my frustration.
The Milky Way burst upward from the peak of Remmel Mountain, a fountain of stars billowing into the universe.
I had planned this trip into the Pasayten months prior, timed for a new moon and the best chance of clear skies. The Milky Way aligned perfectly from where I’d be camping on the edge of an alpine lake.
Remmel Lake is deep within a remote corner of the Okanogan National Forest, over 20 miles from the nearest gravel road. It wasn’t just any pack trip but a deliberate journey into one of the country’s most pristine dark sky areas.
Although I had practiced with the camera before the trip, I had not practiced nearly enough. Under the clear, cold, dark sky, my fingers fumbled with the settings, and the perfect shot remained elusive. In the middle of the night, I found that I couldn’t properly operate the camera and thus did not take the pictures that I had so meticulously planned for. Despite not getting the images that I wanted, the trip was still well worth the effort, as I’ll never forget the views that remain burned in my memories.
For me, seeking out dark skies has become something of a hobby—a way to connect with something timeless and vast. My fascination with the night sky began decades ago during an Arctic exercise while in the Marine Corps. Then the aurora borealis danced above me, ghostly greens and purples shifting across the heavens like living light. That experience was the start of an appreciation for the night skies. It wasn’t just the aurora but the sense of being a part of something infinitely larger that stayed with me, driving my search for dark skies even now.
Now, the night sky reminds us how much beauty and grandeur exists beyond the distractions of daily life. But that cold August night wasn’t just about stargazing. I wanted to capture the scene with my camera.
Why Dark Sky Areas Hold Such Importance
In a world of noise and artificial light, it’s easy to lose sight of how small we are. Standing beneath a dark sky, surrounded by wilderness, reminds me of the quiet rhythm of life beyond modern distractions. For me, wilderness pack trips are a way to remind me of the greatness that lies around us. Wilderness areas humble us and remind us of how we used to live in a world not that many decades ago when we lived by the sun and the stars. Our ancestors roamed beneath skies like this, guided by the same celestial patterns. When we camp in a dark sky area, we give ourselves a taste of those ancient rhythms.
The Pasayten and Bob Marshall Wilderness areas are two of my favorite dark sky destinations. In the Pasayten, the stars feel close enough to touch, their light reflecting off snow-capped peaks. The Bob Marshall, with its vast terrain, offers similar displays, where the Milky Way arches over sprawling meadows and valleys. These places remind me why I return repeatedly to capital-W Wilderness areas.
In the stillness of the night, beneath a sky older than memory, everything seems to fall into place. Each return to these special spaces helps to ground me and offers clarity, reminding me to focus on life’s simple joys. The stars remind me to prioritize what truly matters and to find peace in simplicity.
For more thoughts on horse camping, as well as the world’s largest guide to horse camps and trails, visit me at www.TrailMeister.com. Or pick up a copy of my best-selling book, The ABCs of Trail Riding and Horse Camping on Amazon.