The Return of the Night Sky

On a clear evening in the coastal town of Marren, residents now gather on the sea wall not to watch the sunset but to wait for what follows it. As the last light fades, the sky gradually fills with thousands of stars, and the faint band of the Milky Way stretches overhead. Five years ago, hardly anybody here had seen it.

On a clear evening in the coastal town of Marren, residents now gather on the sea wall not to watch the sunset but to wait for what follows it. As the last light fades, the sky gradually fills with thousands of stars, and the faint band of the Milky Way stretches overhead. Five years ago, hardly anybody here had seen it.

The transformation began with a modest complaint. A retired teacher, Ms Ingrid Solberg, wrote to the council, pointing out that the town’s street lamps shone upwards as much as downwards and that the glow was visible from the hills ten kilometres away. Her letter was initially filed away. But it caught the attention of a young councillor, Mr Rafael Duarte, who happened to be a keen amateur astronomer.

The transformation began with a modest complaint. A retired teacher, Ms Ingrid Solberg, wrote to the council, pointing out that the town’s street lamps shone upwards as much as downwards and that the glow was visible from the hills ten kilometres away. Her letter was initially filed away. But it caught the attention of a young councillor, Mr Rafael Duarte, who happened to be a keen amateur astronomer.

"We were wasting energy on lighting the clouds," he said. "Roughly a third of our street lighting escaped upwards, serving no purpose whatsoever." The council agreed to a pilot scheme: replacing the old lamps with fixtures that direct light downwards, using warmer tones and lower brightness, and dimming them in the small hours when the streets are empty.

"We were wasting energy on lighting the clouds," he said. "Roughly a third of our street lighting escaped upwards, serving no purpose whatsoever." The council agreed to a pilot scheme: replacing the old lamps with fixtures that direct light downwards, using warmer tones and lower brightness, and dimming them in the small hours when the streets are empty.

The initial reaction was mixed. Some residents feared that darker streets would encourage crime, while shopkeepers worried that tourists would stay away. Yet the data told a different story. Police records showed no rise in incidents, and several studies suggest that well-aimed lighting can improve visibility more effectively than glare. Meanwhile, the town’s electricity bill fell by almost forty percent, enough to pay for the new fixtures within six years.

The initial reaction was mixed. Some residents feared that darker streets would encourage crime, while shopkeepers worried that tourists would stay away. Yet the data told a different story. Police records showed no rise in incidents, and several studies suggest that well-aimed lighting can improve visibility more effectively than glare. Meanwhile, the town’s electricity bill fell by almost forty percent, enough to pay for the new fixtures within six years.

The ecological benefits proved equally striking. Local naturalists report that moths, which are drawn to artificial light and often die circling lamps, have returned in larger numbers. Bats, which depend on those insects, are now regularly seen along the harbour. Even the nesting patterns of certain seabirds, which had been confused by bright streets, appear to have stabilised.

The ecological benefits proved equally striking. Local naturalists report that moths, which are drawn to artificial light and often die circling lamps, have returned in larger numbers. Bats, which depend on those insects, are now regularly seen along the harbour. Even the nesting patterns of certain seabirds, which had been confused by bright streets, appear to have stabilised.

The most unexpected consequence, however, has been economic. Marren has been officially recognised as a dark-sky community, and visitors now travel considerable distances to experience the night. Guesthouses that once emptied after August are fully booked in the autumn, when the nights are long and the skies are clear. A local café has introduced a menu of hot drinks timed to the rising of constellations, and the amateur astronomy society has grown from seven members to more than ninety.

The most unexpected consequence, however, has been economic. Marren has been officially recognised as a dark-sky community, and visitors now travel considerable distances to experience the night. Guesthouses that once emptied after August are fully booked in the autumn, when the nights are long and the skies are clear. A local café has introduced a menu of hot drinks timed to the rising of constellations, and the amateur astronomy society has grown from seven members to more than ninety.

Not everything has gone smoothly. A few residents still complain that certain alleys are too dim, and the council has agreed to install motion-activated lights in those areas. Ms Solberg, now in her seventies, regards such adjustments as healthy. "No solution is perfect," she says. "What matters is that people are willing to look up and ask whether things could be done differently."

Not everything has gone smoothly. A few residents still complain that certain alleys are too dim, and the council has agreed to install motion-activated lights in those areas. Ms Solberg, now in her seventies, regards such adjustments as healthy. "No solution is perfect," she says. "What matters is that people are willing to look up and ask whether things could be done differently."

Other towns have taken notice. Delegations from three neighbouring regions have visited Marren this year to study the scheme. As for Ms Solberg, she spends most clear evenings on the sea wall with a flask of tea, a blanket and a pair of binoculars. "I used to think the night was something to be switched off," she says. "It turns out it was waiting for us all along."

Other towns have taken notice. Delegations from three neighbouring regions have visited Marren this year to study the scheme. As for Ms Solberg, she spends most clear evenings on the sea wall with a flask of tea, a blanket and a pair of binoculars. "I used to think the night was something to be switched off," she says. "It turns out it was waiting for us all along."