I’m in a small town north of Boston and can see the Milky Way well enough on a very clear night with no moon. But there is a lot of ambient light – enough so that I never have bothered getting into astronomy or astrophotography. I always get rather envious when some astral visitor comes around and I see pictures of comets floating above a mountain background in some Western desert state.
On the East Coast, winter is probably the best time for star gazing because of the low humidity; however the low temperatures can be a problem.
Yeah, it’s degraded over the southern half of Lake Michigan, but still far better/darker than anyplace else in the lower midwest. Look northeast from the lake’s western shore, and it’s pretty damn dark in that direction. Granted, general air pollution and low elevation keeps the sky less good than other western locations though.
Even so, I’ve seen not just the Milky Way, but the Northern Lights too, as recently as 10 years ago on the shores of the lake.
And when I was young and dumb, I did go out onto the lake at night, to stargaze, and to smooch with my sweetie (aka the Mrs.) We had a hell of a time finding our house back on shore, as we’d drifted quite a few miles north.
I’ve seen the night skies from east of Copper Harbor, too. Amazing. But not as amazing as seeing them on a moonless night in southern Utah, at Bryce Canyon. The Mrs. and I smooched there too, and avoided falling into the canyon.
I’ve heard that one good indicator of light pollution is whether you can see all seven stars in the Little Dipper. I can’t see all seven in the city I live in, but no problem at the lake cabin in rural Minnesota. The Milky Way looks great there, but even better at my parents’ farm in eastern South Dakota.
Clear skies are also good for meteor watching and northern lights too, so you don’t need to wait until summer to see interesting stuff in the sky. Right now you might also be interested in trying to see zodiacal light, which Astro Bob describes nicely. I’ve never had any luck at that though.
I was 18 when I first saw the Milky Way, visiting my cousins who live in Tasmania. I still remember that moment, looking up, and see what looked like the whole sky. Here in the Chicago area, I’m lucky if I can see more than a few dozen stars at night. If I head out to the suburbs and places that “seem” dark, I can bump this up to maybe a couple hundred. When I was in Tasmania, the sky looked infinite. Tens of thousands of stars. And for the first time, I realized why it was called the Milky Way. That was one of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life (also, coupled with looking at an unfamiliar, Southern Hemisphere sky.)
The first time you see a truly dark sky, it’ll look unfamiliar even if it’s at your accustomed latitude. There are just So. Many. Stars. that it’s difficult to pick out the familiar ones.
They constellations, they just disappear into a vast glittering pool of stars.
Bring along a pair of binoculars and you’ll see some spectacular clusters too.