Stargazing in Texas: Where the Sky Does Most of the Talking
- Rob Sherrard

- Feb 1
- 5 min read

A Quick Note About the Photo Above
The photo at the top of this post was taken a few years back, right here in Marfa, using an iPhone.
No telescope. No tracking mount. No fancy camera setup. Just a phone, a steady hand, and a very dark sky.
What’s wild is that while the photo clearly shows the Milky Way, it still doesn’t do it justice. The iPhone couldn’t fully capture the depth, brightness, or texture of what was actually overhead. The camera tried—but it couldn’t keep up with what the human eye was seeing in real time.
And that’s the important part.
In this region of West Texas, on a clear, moonless night, you can see the Milky Way with your naked eye. Not as a faint suggestion. Not as something you have to imagine. But as a visible band of light stretching across the sky, with structure and presence.
The photo is impressive.
The real thing is better.
Texas has a reputation for doing things loudly.
Big trucks. Big skies. Big opinions about chili.
But out here in West Texas, something unexpected happens after dark.
It gets… quiet.
The kind of quiet where the stars feel comfortable showing off. And they do, enthusiastically.
Between Marfa, the Davis Mountains, and Big Bend, Texas quietly becomes one of the best places in the country to look up and forget what time it is.
What Actually Makes a Place Good for Stargazing?
(Hint: it’s not just “being remote”)
A great night sky depends on a few non-negotiables:
Low light pollution
Dry air
Elevation
Wide, uninterrupted horizons
And often overlooked, the moon
West Texas checks all of these boxes casually, without making a fuss about it.
Marfa: Stargazing at Nearly 4,800 Feet
Marfa sits at roughly 4,800 feet above sea level, which means thinner air, clearer views, and less atmosphere between you and whatever’s happening up there.
It also means:
Fewer streetlights
Fewer obstructions
Fewer reasons to go back inside once you step out
Marfa doesn’t advertise itself as a stargazing destination, and that’s very Marfa of it. If the town is known for anything celestial, it’s the Marfa Mystery Lights, those unexplained orbs that have been confusing scientists, skeptics, and late-night observers for decades.
Call them folklore. Call them physics. Call them a long-running West Texas inside joke.
Either way, they’re a kind of cosmic cousin to stargazing, another reminder that out here, people already spend a lot of time looking up and wondering what they’re seeing.
Spend one clear night here, though, and you’ll realize the stars didn’t need marketing. They already knew where to show up.
This is stargazing without ceremony. No gates. No tickets. No signs telling you what to feel.
Just you, the desert, and the quiet understanding that the universe is doing just fine without us.
Why the Lunar Calendar Matters (More Than You Think) 🌙
Here’s the part that surprises most people:
Moonlight is light pollution, just the natural kind.
The moon reflects sunlight back toward Earth, and when it’s bright, it raises the background brightness of the sky. That reduces contrast, and without contrast, faint stars and the Milky Way disappear first.
Some fun, slightly mind-bending numbers:
🌕 Full Moon
Sky brightness increases by ~10–25× compared to a moonless night
You can lose 50–90% of visible stars, depending on conditions
The Milky Way is usually washed out or gone entirely
A full moon is essentially the sun’s loud cousin, showing up uninvited.
🌖 Half Moon (First or Last Quarter)
Sky brightness increases ~3–7×
Bright stars and planets remain visible
The Milky Way becomes faint or patchy
Good for casual stargazing.
Not ideal for existential moments.
🌑 New Moon
Darkest possible skies
Maximum contrast
The Milky Way shows structure, texture, and depth
Thousands more stars become visible to the naked eye
On a truly dark, moonless night in West Texas, the human eye can see 2,500–3,000 stars.
Under a full moon, that number can drop below 300.
Same sky. Same place.Completely different experience.
The Heavy Hitters Nearby (With Receipts)
McDonald Observatory
McDonald Observatory exists here for one simple reason: the sky earned it.
Perched in the Davis Mountains, it’s one of the premier observatories in the world—and its public star parties are a big part of why people fall hard for West Texas skies.
What the Star Parties Are Actually Like
They aren’t flashy. And that’s the point.
Star parties typically begin with a short outdoor talk where astronomers help orient everyone, what’s visible tonight, what’s overhead, and why certain objects matter. Constellations get traced. Planets get context. The Milky Way stops being “that hazy thing” and starts making sense.
Then you rotate through multiple telescopes, each aimed at something different:
Saturn (which almost always steals the show)
Star clusters
Nebulae
Distant galaxies that quietly recalibrate your sense of scale
Some views hit instantly. Others take a moment. When they land, they really land.
The experience is intentionally quiet. No music. No hype voice. Just whispers, soft gasps, and the occasional “oh wow” that slips out before someone remembers to keep their voice down.
You won’t see Hubble-level color explosions through the eyepiece. What you will see is real, ancient light, unfiltered, landing directly in your eye.
And somehow, that’s better.
Star parties are ticketed and align best with the new moon, for reasons that should now be very clear.
Big Bend: Scale Changes Everything
At over 800,000 acres, Big Bend National Park is larger than the state of Rhode Island and one of the least-visited national parks in the Lower 48.
Big Bend isn’t just dark, it’s vast. There’s simply nowhere for light to hide.
Three Ecosystems, One Ridiculously Big Sky
Chihuahuan Desert: Wide basins and long sightlines where the sky stretches edge to edge.
Chisos Mountains: Cooler, forested elevations rising straight out of the desert, creating a dome-like night sky.
Rio Grande River CorridorDeep canyons that frame the stars in a way that feels cinematic and intimate.
Each landscape offers a different relationship with the sky. All of them benefit from the same thing: profound darkness.
This is why Big Bend earned its International Dark Sky designation, and why, on clear, moonless nights, the Milky Way doesn’t politely appear.
It announces itself.
A Quietly Bold Claim: Top Five in the Lower 48
There are a handful of places serious stargazers talk about: Southern Utah. Northern Arizona. Remote Nevada.
West Texas belongs on that list.
What makes it special isn’t just darkness, it’s concentration. Marfa, McDonald Observatory, and Big Bend sit close enough together to create a rare cluster of elite night skies, without crowds or spectacle.
No hype. No lines. Just stars doing star things.
Why Your Basecamp Changes Everything
Here’s the underrated part of stargazing: The best moments usually happen after you stop trying.
Driving to an overlook is great. But stepping outside where you’re staying, late at night, wrapped in a blanket, with no plan at all, that’s when it really lands.
When you stay with us at The Milky WayFarer, stargazing isn’t scheduled. You don’t have to go anywhere special or wait for an event.
You just step outside.
We keep lighting low and distractions minimal on purpose, because the sky is already doing the heavy lifting. Our place simply gets out of the way.
How to Stargaze Like a Local (Or at Least Pretend To)
Go out after 10pm
Give your eyes 20 minutes to adjust
Skip white flashlights—red light only
Bring layers (the desert enjoys humbling people)
Put your phone away (it will survive without you)
Stillness isn’t optional here. It’s part of the deal.
One Last Marfa Thought
In West Texas, the sky isn’t an attraction.
It’s the backdrop.
And if you’ve planned your visit around the moon—and chosen a basecamp that respects the dark—the best stargazing won’t require a drive, a schedule, or a plan.
Sometimes, it’s just a few steps outside. No tickets. No commentary. No rush.
Just stars doing what they’ve always done.
Until next time, Rob and Becca!



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