I never can sleep the night before a trip. Although I had an alarm set, not to mention a codependent cat reliably yowling for breakfast, anxiety dictated that 6:45 AM was the new 8:00 AM. I lay in bed, scrolling aimlessly, trying to convince myself to focus less on whether we would remember everything we needed and more on the fact that, finally, after a four-year wait, Brian and I were going to Cherry Springs.

It was Christmas Day, 2019. Brian had asked me to marry him a few months earlier, and I wanted to give him something special. He has always been fascinated by the stars, so I ordered a star map print showing the orientation of the planets in our solar system as they were on June 4, 2019, over St. Goar, Germany—the date and location of our engagement. With it, I included a card with a booking confirmation for a campsite in Lyman Run State Park, Galeton, PA. Cherry Springs doesn't have campsites to rent, but Lyman Run is only a short drive away.

Cherry Springs is a Dark Sky Park, an accolade that indicates the distinct lack of light pollution in the region. Without excess light, the views of the night sky are about as pure as it's possible to see. Cherry Springs is the only such park on the East Coast. Sadly, the COVID-19 pandemic forced us to cancel the trip. Each year after that, it was postponed due either to the ongoing pandemic or budgeting priorities. This year we were able to make it happen. Merry Christmas, Brian!

After an A+ game of Tetris in the back of the RAV4, we hit the road for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Lyman Run. It was a scenic route offering breathtaking mountain views, glittering lakes and rivers, and vibrant bursts of violet and radiant white wildflowers clustering along every roadway. We jammed out to the new Avenged Sevenfold album, "Life is but a Dream...," and several of our favorite tracks from Ghost, Simple Plan, Beartooth, and Shinedown. We made good time and arrived a few minutes early.

We checked in at the park office and took a moment outside to appreciate the flower bushes growing there. They were bustling with honeybees, hummingbirds, and butterflies. Our campsite was just down a short dirt road from the office, and we found it easily. We pitched our tent and set out our chairs, tables, cooler, and various other small comforts. Then, it was time to find firewood. The staff person at the office directed us to the gas station in town, which was perfect because we had hoped to fuel up before morning anyway. After running this quick errand, we returned to camp for a cozy night in.

Last year, on our maiden camping voyage, we stayed at Selkirk Shores State Park. We attempted to make our first fire, but it was evident that our many years of mooching off my cousin, Sierra, and her Boy Scout husband, Brian, had spoiled us. A kind woman from a neighboring campsite noticed our struggle and brought us more wood and kindling. She showed us how to build a proper fire and gave us a tip about making our own fire starter packets using dryer lint and spent toilet paper rolls. The very next day, Brian and I went out to stock up on fire-making supplies, including a fire poker which we christened "Sue Ellen," after the woman who aided us the night before.

Tonight we honored Sue Ellen and built a very successful campfire all on our own! I cooked up some burgers over it while Brian prepped the bread, cheese, and condiments. For dessert, we roasted marshmallows and made s'mores.

As we settled down for the evening, we packed away everything that contained food, or looked like it may contain food, in the car and pulled a retractable canvas cover over it in case of curious bears. Black bears are incredibly intelligent, and they will look for coolers, totes, boxes, and anything else that might have food inside. They're known to peer into car windows and will even recognize the shape of a cooler under a tarp or blanket.

Brian and I gazed upward more and more frequently as the daylight faded and the sky darkened. There was scarcely a cloud overhead. Tomorrow night the moon will be full, but already it shone as bright as dawn. We wandered down to the aqueduct here in the park to get an unhindered view of it. Smartphone cameras have not yet evolved to capture clear images of the moon, but with very minimal assistance from a button battery-powered flashlight, we were able to snap a few selfies almost exclusively by moonlight. Suffice it to say that four years is a long time to wait. But for a view like this? It's worth every second.

I cracked one eye open this morning to find Brian shuffling around. Soft mid-morning light set the tent aglow.

"Our lighter battery died," he said. "So I'm running to town to get us some more."

I nodded and let my head drop onto the pillow again. As the sun's rays steadily warmed the tent, I snoozed blissfully in those perfect cozy moments just before the heat became too stifling. When it did inevitably grow uncomfortable, I decided I'd better start my day.

While I waited for Brian to return from his errand, I grabbed a shower and got ready for our afternoon excursion. I stoked the fire and warmed up some pork sausage egg bites for breakfast. A single monarch butterfly flitted through our site while we ate. Soon after, it was time to be on our way to Coudersport.

On the docket for today: Cream 'n Sugar, a local cafe with rave reviews; the Potter County Artisan Co-op, a gallery of local artists' and crafters' work; the Moon Tree, a sycamore with an intriguing story; and the Coudersport Ice Mine, an environmental wonder with a fascinating history.

We began at Cream 'n Sugar in downtown Coudersport. Inside, the vibe is vintage chic. The walls are decorated with rehabbed salvage store rescues, and the tables and chairs are a hodgepodge of farmhouse finds. A number of handmade soaps, candles, and bath bombs are available for purchase. We snagged a few stocking stuffers and ordered a couple of coffees and some sweet treats. For Brian: an iced mocha frappe and a raspberry coffee cake. For myself: an iced mocha and a fruit pie consisting of blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries over sweet cream and a sugar cookie crust. The berries were crisp and juicy; the cream was sweet, but not overwhelmingly so; and the crust was the perfect consistency.

I enthusiastically endorse every five-star review about this place.

Brian and I settled at a table and hopped online for a little while to catch up with friends and assure a certain doting mother-in-law that we survived the night. Our timing was perfect, as no sooner had we sat down than a flood of eager patrons formed a line to the door.

"I got a couple live ones for ya!" joked one of the cafe staff to her coworkers as the customers poured inside.

We fired off the last of our messages and social media posts and set off down the street for the Potter County Artisan Co-op. Inside were photo prints, paintings, pottery, macrame pieces, tapestries, and all manner of handmade goods and artwork from local creators. A staff member informed us that over 50 artisans actively contribute to the co-op. Brian and I picked out a stunning photo print of the Milky Way over Cherry Springs State Park, taken by photographer Curt Weinhold.

From there, we were off to the Coudersport Moon Tree. This sycamore tree was grown from a seed that was taken to the moon on the Apollo 14 mission in 1971. As a sapling, the tree was afflicted with a fungal anthracnose infection and had to be nursed back to health. It now stands around 40 feet tall (Williams). Brian and I sat in the shade beneath it and sipped our coffees, appreciating the day and all the cool things we'd seen so far.

Lastly, we drove a winding seasonal road to reach the Coudersport Ice Mine. Visitors are greeted by a kind elderly couple who welcome you to peruse the gift shop and report to the front when you're ready to enter the mine.

The story goes that sometime around 1894, there was a small general store in Coudersport that frequently did business with the indigenous tribes of the region. Possessing no currency of their own, the tribesfolk would instead pay in silver. Occasionally, they wouldn't bring enough to cover their purchases. In these instances, they would assure the shopkeeper that they'd return a little while later with the remainder of what was owed. Eventually, the shopkeeper grew curious about where the silver came from. It must be nearby, he surmised, otherwise, how would the tribesfolk be able to return with it only hours later? He resolved to follow them and find out how they got their silver. The investigation revealed a natural vein of silver in what is now the ice mine. In time, the silver became less and less accessible until finally, mining efforts were abandoned altogether.

From the late '90s to about 2014, the mine was closed to the public as it had fallen into disrepair. A new owner took over and spent a year revitalizing the whole operation. While the initial impression suggests that one could enter the mine like a cavern, that isn't the case. The ice mine is actually a 40-foot-deep shaft and is only about eight feet wide ("Coudersport"). The hunk of ice and snow mushrooming over its opening at the surface is only a teaser for what hides beneath. Peering into the shaft, icicle stalactites, thick and dense as the towering white pines surrounding the mouth of the mine, plunge endlessly down. The mine and the area around it maintain a steady 32°F at this time of year.

I was fascinated by the juxtaposition of opposing seasons in this singular place. Winter surges up from the depths as summer heat bakes everything above ground. When winter arrives in the forest, the ice mine becomes little more than an exceptionally deep hole in the ground. Penn State has conducted studies to measure the temperature and investigate how the mine works.

The going theory is that warm air builds up in the shaft over the summer, slowly rising and displacing the cool air that allows for the formation of ice. By winter, that warm air has overtaken the shaft, and the ice stops forming until March in the following spring. At that point, just the opposite process occurs. The cool air that has accumulated over the winter sinks, displacing the warm air until the shaft is cold enough to produce ice again.

Brian and I swapped phones with the others in our tour group, a small family from Hackettstown, NJ, so that we all could get pictures in front of the summer snowbank spilling over the mouth of the mine. We concluded our tour, signed the guestbook, and completed our purchase of an official Coudersport Ice Mine champagne flute for our glassware collection. Then, it was back to Lyman Run to relax the afternoon away.

Evening settled over the campgrounds. With pastel skies overhead, it was time for the main event. We drove the short 10 minutes to Cherry Springs and reported to the Night Sky Viewing Area. There, we met our guide for the night.

She led us on a short walk around the viewing area, narrating stories about the constellations and pointing out particular stars and planets. She showed us the astronomy domes that dot the sprawling stargazing fields. These structures are no longer utilized, but in the 1960s, they sheltered astronomers and their telescopes, smothering all external light sources to ensure the best possible focus for studying the cosmos.

A blazing full Strawberry Moon chased the sun from the sky, stealing some of its colors as it peeked over the horizon, rising red. It ascended orange, perfectly complementing its blue backdrop. The sky grew darker and darker. The moon shone brighter and brighter. Though its light overpowered many of the stars, our view was still freckled with more celestial bodies than could ever be picked out in the diluted skies at home.

We spotted Venus, haloed in a corona of reflected light, and its crimson companion trailing behind. We picked out Ursa Major and her tumbling cub, and we listened to stories of how the man in the moon ever got up there. If this is how indigenous cultures saw the sky throughout history, is it any wonder that the moon became a god?

We have been incredibly lucky with the weather this weekend. Though the days were hot, there was usually a breeze, and we enjoyed perfect campfire cozy nights with that wonderful, "hood-up" chill that almost makes you forget it's summertime. Last night was particularly cold, so when we returned from Cherry Springs, we struck up a late-night fire and warmed ourselves by the light of multicolored flames (thanks to my lovely mother-in-law for the color-changing packets).

This morning, Brian and I slept in and took our time packing up camp. Though I fared much better physically than I thought I would, it can still be quite costly for me to engage in too much repetitive motion. I handled the organizing and packing of bags and totes while Brian did the heavy lifting of loading the car. We formed our own little two-person assembly line and had the car packed up in record time. I am so grateful to have an understanding partner who works to my strengths and focuses on what I can contribute without pitying me or making me feel weak.

As we departed from Lyman Run, it would be several miles before either of us had any cell service to bring up Google Maps. Anyone who has ever had the special privilege of riding with me knows that, if I am driving, there is a significantly increased risk of getting lost. While I will always argue that getting lost is half the adventure, my friends and family will be glad to know that Brian was at the wheel. His superior sense of direction guided us safely along the mountain roads until our phones began to rattle with an onslaught of delayed notifications. Once the buzzing had calmed, we set a course for Colton Point State Park.

On the way to Colton Point, we doubled back to stop at an overlook we'd nearly missed as we drove by. A display at the pull-off explained that we were looking out across new growth forests which had reclaimed the land from logging operations in the decades since this area's incorporation into PA's protected lands. The display did not explain why this overlook is called Longtoe Vista. I suspect that Longtoe is perhaps Big Foot's estranged brother.

We carried on to our intended destination. Colton Point is home to a beautiful river gorge known as the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon. Another day, I would love to book a tour with Ole Covered Wagon Tours and see Pine Creek from the rail trail. For now, these gorgeous viewfinder sneak peeks will have to tide me over.

Satisfied with our pit stop, it was time to begin the trip home in earnest. We drove the remaining three hours back to Syracuse, breaking for lunch at Arby's in Corning. Our cat, Bean, scolded us for leaving her with only a daily visit from one of her favorite people (thank you, Liz!), at least 15 of her best toys, and the entire queen bed and sectional couch to herself. Truly, we are some of the worst cat staff ever. To underscore her point, Bean has not left my side for a second since we returned. I do hope she can forgive us one day.