COUDERSPORT, Pa. - Cherry Springs State Park is known for some of the best views in the eastern United States. But you have to wait until dark to see them. And you have to look up.

COUDERSPORT, Pa. - Cherry Springs State Park is known for some of the best views in the eastern United States.

But you have to wait until dark to see them.

And you have to look up.

Forget Waldo. Where's the Milky Way? It should be overhead, its dim radiance comprising the sparkle of innumerable suns, marking the center of our entire galaxy.

But according to the National Park Service, the nighttime lights of civilization keep 80 percent of Americans from seeing that delicate spill of galaxy glow.

Granted, civilization is a good thing. But light pollution, not so much.

Beams that light up the night sky waste energy and money, interfere with the migration of birds and the nesting of turtles and wash out the beautiful, mysterious celestial patterns that inspired the earliest myths and stories.

Cygnus the swan, for example, a bright and regal constellation even in light-polluted skies, once swam contentedly in the Milky Way. But now, with no galactic stream in which to float, she just sort of irritably plucks at Lyra the lyre as she flies by. At least that's my story.

For travelers who make the trek to Cherry Springs in north-central Pennsylvania, though, the Milky Way again becomes a spangled river of radiant specks, a sight that's all the more impressive to modern observers who realize that each of those uncountable specks is a star, perhaps with planets of its own.

On a map of light-pollution levels, Cherry Springs is one small circle of darkness floating in a bright sea of white and yellow.

The 82-acre park lies within the 262,000-acre Susquehannock State Forest. Cherry Springs also benefits from topography, with ridges blocking the light from the picturesque town of Coudersport and all the other small valley settlements nearby.

The International Dark-Sky Association, which works to promote dark skies and reduce light pollution, certified Cherry Springs in 2008 as one of the world's first "Dark Sky" parks. (There are now more than three dozen Dark Sky-certified parks around the world.)

All lighting in the park is specially shielded, with lighting in red, a color that doesn't harm the night vision of humans.

For serious astronomers, the park has an Astronomy Observation Field, where observers with their own equipment can set up for the night on grass, concrete pads or in one of four small observatories - viewing sheds with rotating domes or retractable roofs - available to rent for $25 a night. Access and lights are strictly limited after dark.

The rules aren't as strict at the Night Sky Public Viewing Area, which offers a variety of public astronomy programs throughout the year. The viewing area offers expansive views of the horizon in all directions and has an amphitheater with plenty of seats for guests to get a pre-dark preview from one of the park's astronomy rangers.

Red-light flashlights are the polite lighting choice. Rangers hand out red cellophane and rubber bands that visitors can use to wrap their own flashlight lenses.

On the evening I visited, a group of Boy Scouts was getting a solar astronomy lesson before the sunset. (Looking at the sun through a telescope can be very dangerous, so don't try it if you don't know what you're doing and don't have the proper protective filter or projector.)

Families and children started to pour in well before dark for a sunset program about fireflies. Fireflies, aka lightning bugs, which use their bioluminescent flashes to attract mates, are also hurt by light pollution. But they thrive in a setting like Cherry Springs.

As the kids learned about the bugs and engaged in a frolicking firefly hunt, rangers began to set up a variety of telescopes for the following program.

The glow in the western sky began to slowly fade as a ranger told us about the celestial gems we were about to see - perhaps.

Unfortunately, the sky had clouded up just before sunset. Cloudy skies mean no stars, no matter how dark the skies.

But as the sky grew darker and darker, small glints began to flicker through patches above.

Suddenly, a bright reddish point appeared above the southern horizon.

"Mars!" someone exclaimed. And then "Saturn!" and "Jupiter!"

And just like that, three of the "wandering stars," Earth's sister planets, were shining for all to see.

Almost 100 visitors lined up at telescopes trained on the planets for delightful views of Saturn's rings, the four large inner moons of Jupiter and the mysterious patchy face of Mars.

The waits were short, and everyone seemed to have plenty of time to look through whichever telescope they wanted. I enjoyed the views, too. But I was waiting until the very last bit of glow was gone from the sky, when Cygnus, already shining brightly, would be surrounded by the Milky Way.

And sure enough, before too long the great sky swan was splashing around contentedly in 100 million stars.

sstephens@dispatch.com

@SteveStephens