If you’re looking for the best locations for astrophotography and skywatching, look no further than the Florida Keys. A 125-mile string of tropical coral islands linked by bridges that stretches into the shallow waters of the Florida Straits and the Gulf of Mexico, it’s home to fishing, boating and snorkeling, but also stargazing.
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As well as some of the darkest skies on the U.S. East Coast, it’s also the nation’s southernmost point. At 24.5 degrees north, just above the Tropic of Cancer, it’s possible to see many stars and deep-sea objects usually only seen from the Southern Hemisphere. The perfect location for the only Winter Star Party in the U.S.
Full disclaimer: This article was made possible by travel provided by Florida Keys & Key West to experience its night skies and by the Southern Cross Astronomical Society to its Winter Star Party.
Winter Star Party
Price: From $205 per person.
Duration: 7 nights
The event takes place under Bortle 3 skies at the Camp Jackson Sawyer and Camp Wesumkee scout camps in the Florida Keys during the February new moon.
If you want to book the Winter Star Party, head to the Southern Cross Astronomical Society.
I was transfixed by Venus shining brilliantly in the west in deep twilight when I first noticed a bright star due south, just above the Florida Straits. There was no moon in the sky, and from West Summerland Key, the star was far too low to be Sirius — the brightest star in the sky — which was shining much higher in the sky close to Orion. What I was seeing was Canopus, the second-brightest star in the sky, glimmering over the open ocean.
In the Southern Hemisphere, Canopus and Sirius journey across the sky together, but in the Northern Hemisphere, only Sirius rises above the horizon. Canopus’ shine shimmered over the ocean like a path was being laid from the Florida Keys to Cuba just 90 miles across the water.
It was the peak way of a week-long road trip through the Florida Keys, chasing the southern stars from the best stargazing spots in this subtropical paradise.
How to plan a stargazing adventure
I get asked a lot about the best places to go stargazing. My reply is always the same. Firstly, find somewhere away from people you’ll enjoy visiting, regardless of whether the night skies are cloud-free. That way, you’ll have a good trip, whatever happens. Secondly, always go the week before the new moon when our satellite rises after midnight. With the moon phase perfect, locations checked on a light pollution map and an invite secured to the only winter star party in the U.S., my wife Gill and I set off on a starry-eyed road trip from Miami to Key West in the Florida Keys via some off-the-beaten-track places.
Islamorada and Marathon: sunsets and stars
Having landed in Miami, we drove south for two hours, but the real journey began at Fiesta Key RV Resort, a secluded retreat surrounded by the Gulf of Mexico. We watched the planets appear behind a “Warning: crocodiles” sign and got up early to watch a stunning sunrise before watching turtles and coral reefs from Transparensea’s glass-bottom boat.
Later that day, we checked into Grassy Flats Resort, Marathon, just in time to watch a sunset from a classic Florida Keys pier. Then the clouds rolled in. Gulp. Would we see any stars the next night at the star party?
Bahia Honda and Big Pine Key: kayaking and Cassiopeia jellyfish
From Marathon, we drove farther west, across the Seven Mile Bridge and into the Lower Keys, the darkest part of the Florida Keys. We couldn’t resist spending a few hours in Bahia Honda State Park — an ideal location for stargazing if you don’t mind camping at its wonderful, south-facing Sandspur campground (as the park is closed to visitors at night) — and home to both incredible white sand beaches and a photogenic derelict railroad bridge.
A few miles away was West Summerland Key — our location for the star party — but first, we had a date with Big Pine Kayak Adventures to explore one of the darkest areas, No Name Key, which is still predominantly native forest. After negotiating a tangle of mangrove roots in a tight channel, we emerged into a shallow lagoon. The mud beneath our kayaks was home to millions of tiny pulsing jellyfish that all appeared upside down.
“These are Cassiopeia jellyfish,” my guide Bill Keogh, who’s been running kayak tours since the 1980s, told me. “Whoever named them must have had an appreciation for astronomy.” The five bright stars of Cassiopeia, “the queen,” are seen low in the northern sky from here as a W or M-shape, depending on when it’s viewed. Since it’s circumpolar, it appears to revolve around Polaris, the North Star. Bill explains that Cassiopeia jellyfish host algae that live in their bodies, which photosynthesize and produce effortless food for the jellyfish. “It’s like having grapes dropped into your mouth, said Bill. “Cassiopeia jellyfish have a queen’s lifestyle.”
After smoked tuna, deep-fried conch and Key lime pie at No Name Pub, we see alligators at the Blue Hole Observation Platform and hike around the Fred C. Manillo Wildlife Trail — a perfect place for stargazing, albeit with the best views west and north. After checking in at the peaceful Parmer’s Resort — after some impromptu meetings with Key deer in Little Torch Key — we delighted in the clear skies, recharged our batteries and headed to the star party.
The Winter Star Party
The Winter Star Party is split into two camps owned by the Scouts of America — Camp Jackson Sawyer for campers and Camp Wesumkee for those in RVs. With its buildings badly damaged by Hurricane Irma in 2017, the latter has an apocalyptic look. Not that we could see the crumbling concrete for long; as the light faded, fat Dobsonian telescopes and long refractors were silhouetted against the deep blue twilight skies. As well as its Bortle 3 skies, this location is famous for its “steady air” beloved by astrophotographers, who finish setting up in the fading light, sorting out firmware updates and aligning motorized mounts. Intriguingly, countless Seestar S50 smart telescopes were perched alongside ridiculously large setups. I’d never seen so many giant telescopes.
I casually asked someone if there were places we should go, as visitors with no equipment, to look through others’ telescopes. “Just ask anyone with a Dob,” said one stargazer, referring to the behemoth Dobsonian telescopes around us. “They love showing the night sky to anyone passing by.” It’s true. Through a 16-inch Dob we saw Jupiter and its Great Red Spot, then Venus as a crescent shortly before it set. “Venus is rarely worth looking at — there’s usually nothing to see — but wow!” said one stargazer. Next up was Mars with a distinct whitish polar ice cap, then the Rosette Nebula in Monoceros and three open clusters — Caroline’s Rose cluster (NGC 7789) in Cassiopeia, M35 in Gemini and M46 in the southern constellation of Puppis.
Impressive, but I’m a naked-eye stargazer at heart, and I couldn’t take my eyes from Canopus out to sea, mainly because I wanted to find its companion to the southwest, Achernar in Eridanus. I finally glimpse it shining faintly in the horizon haze. I use it to make a triangle with Canopus and an imaginary point below the horizon — a stargazer’s way of finding due south.
Walking the site in the dark, only the occasional red light remains. We visit several groups, grabbing a few words and telescopic views with folks from as far away as California, Maine and Illinois, many of whom have driven across the U.S. with their giant telescopes.
Our host, Tim Khan at the Southern Cross Astronomical Society and organizer of the star party, aims his TEC 200mm refractor telescope — designed for planets — and shows us the shadow of Jupiter’s moon Ganymede crossing the clouds of the giant planet. A stunning sight!
We can’t stay up to see the Southern Cross rise — it’s not happening until just before dawn — so we take one last look at Canopus-shine on the ocean, before heading off to prepare for a big day and night tomorrow.
Dry Tortugas: the darkest place in the U.S.?
Dry Tortugas National Park is probably the darkest place in the U.S. About 70 miles (113 km) west of Key West, it’s a coral island home to the massive Fort Jefferson, which was once used as a prison during the Civil War. It’s possible to camp here in primitive style, but it sells out months in advance, so we settle for a day trip there with Key West Seaplane Adventures. It’s a wild ride in an aging DeHaviland Otter, with sharks, shipwrecks, and loggerhead turtles visible beneath us in the incredibly shallow coral sea.
While walking the sandy moat wall of Fort Jefferson, I start a conversation with a sailor moored offshore in a yacht, lamenting that I can’t stay overseas on the island. He says that while the night skies are stunningly dark, there is always a green glow on the horizon — squid boats using LED lights to attract plankton and the squid that feed on them. I’m sad to leave Dry Tortugas so soon, but we have a nocturnal adventure planned that will make up for it.
The Outpost: a stargazer’s dream destination
Minutes after landing back in Key West, we’re off again, this time by boat to the edge of what locals call the backcountry — the shallow coral sea we were recently flying over. The light fades fast as we zero in on The Outpost, a floating houseboat restyled as a mobile eco-retreat by Mellow Adventures. As we got closer, I suddenly realized that it was glowing red. “That’s no houseboat,” I think. “It’s a floating observatory.” It’s not fitted with any stargazing gear save for a pair of binoculars, but there are few better places to watch the night sky. The Outpost — which has two bedrooms, a kitchen and a bunch of kayaks strapped to an outside deck — constantly moves, so it isn’t good for astrophotography (though some one-second, high ISO images work fine). “We can take this thing anywhere a customer wants — even out to the Dry Tortugas,” says Captain Rob before he leaves us to watch Venus dazzle in the western sky before sinking into a small coral island. I wake up frequently all night and head out to the deck to stargaze — I see the Winter Milky Way stretched overhead in a ghostly arc and watch the island gobble up the stars of Taurus, then Orion, then Gemini. Solitude beneath the stars is broken by the chatter of brown pelicans, double-crested cormorants and frigate birds in the mangroves. We wrestle the kayaks from the deck and paddle around the island before Captain Rob arrives to take us back to civilization.
Everglades National Park: Chasing the final stars
We drive away from Key West, and eventually out of the Florida Keys, but there’s one final stargazing stop to make — an eco-tent at Flamingo Everglades, deep within Everglades National Park. Here, under a vast open sky, I take a last look at the southern stars, tracing out Eridanus down to a faintly visible Achernar. It’s our final celestial sight, the next day filled with views of crocodiles, alligators, manatees and even bottlenose dolphins in the waterways, before a late-night flight out of Miami.
With its dark skies and unique view of the southern stars, the Florida Keys delivered an unforgettable stargazing experience with plenty of unique adventures by day.
