I’ve taken a few people along on trips into the wild. When I plan a group trip, I try to have it during the full moon. I think it is much easier for urban light adapted people to connect with the darkness when it isn’t so dark. Seeing the moonlight shine from the grass of an alpine meadow or experiencing the glint of the moon on an alpine lake is a beauty that most everyone appreciates. However, given the tight schedules currently favored, this isn’t always possible. On a recent trip, the couple I was escorting were surprised at just how dark the forest is on an overcast, moonless night.
They had only a single flashlight to share between them. The first night was fine, the clouds were clear and the stars provided a good light across the meadow in which we were camped. However, the second night was different, much darker. Clouds from an approaching storm front blotted out the stars and it was difficult to see anything. It was so dark that neither wanted to be without a light.
Neither could remember ever being outside when it was so dark; there were always lights from homes and businesses. They put on a good front, but it was clear they were uncomfortable with the darkness. I don’t think that their fear was of some monster coming at them out of the darkness, but of the darkness itself. Perhaps it was just the unfamiliarity, the not knowing.
Since there was no cell service, they had put away their phones the first day. But as the sun set on the second day, they found the darkness too intense. They needed some light, almost frantically. We talked about it and agreed that while it was interesting to experience the darkness it was time for some light. They retrieved their phones for the glow of the screen. I started a campfire and their attitudes improved. The phones were pocketed and we shared a bottle of wine talking about the mountains. The firelight was calming; but both found comfort in having their little boxes of familiarity next to them.
We sat around the fire chatting of their previous camping trips. After a bit, she asked, “How can you live with this?” I didn’t understand the question, the evening, while a bit cool, was otherwise perfect. “The darkness, how can you stand the dark?” “I can’t see anything, not even what I’m holding; it’s driving me crazy!”
I replied that over time, I had gotten used to it. Which, while it is true, is horribly uninformative. Exactly what does it mean to get used to living in darkness?
Physiology
We, as humans, are not totally inferior to the forest dwellers in the dark. Sure, many animals can see much better in the dark than we can, but it’s still dark to them. They still have to deal with the same challenges as do we. No light, is still no light to them.
Most nocturnal mammals have a reflective membrane in their eye the tapetum lucidum. This membrane greatly enhances their night vision by reflecting light back to their eye’s photo-receptors. It also causes a distinctive eye-shine visible when light is shined into their dilated pupils. Humans don’t have one, they rely the abilities of their rod cells expose through a wide-open pupil.
Three physiologic processes contribute to the increased light sensitivity of the human retina in darkness. They are dilatation of the pupil, synaptic adaptation of retinal neurons, and increase in the concentration of rhodopsin available in the outer segments. These processes reduce color discernment and visual acuity. Things are perceived more fuzzily, in gray-scale. However, together they increase light sensitivity at least 10,000 times.
It’s easy to see that this process is not instantaneous, enter a dark room from a bright one and try to pick things out, it takes a while. The dark adaptation process starts as soon as you enter the room but takes from 45 minutes to an hour to reach full operating levels. Amazingly the rate of dark adaptation seems to be very constant between individuals.
Animals undergo the same dark adaptation process. In some species dark adaptation is accomplished in as little as a half hour.
A more complete description of the dark adaptation process can be found here.
Learning to see
It’s not enough to dark adapt one’s eyes. To see better in the dark requires taking cues from a different portion of your retina-the center of which is covered densely in cones.
Visual cues must be taken from the edges more than the center. So, looking slightly to the side of the object in focus will give a better picture of it. Doing so, takes practice.
Tom Brown Jr. teaches a technique he calls splatter vision. Here is his description of the technique from Tom Brown’s Field Guide to Wilderness Survival.
“Splatter vision is the practice of unfocusing your eyes so that they take in a panoramic view instead of a single object. It allows you to detect any movement that occurs within your field of vision. Just to show you what it will do, look straight ahead and spread your arms out wide so you can’t see your hands. Then, wiggling your fingers, slowly bring your hands forward until you notice the first finger movements out of the corner of your eyes.”
In his book We Are Nature, Ray Mears advocates for a similar technique both during the day and at night. I have also found that using one’s peripheral vision works much better than central focused vision in darkness. It does take practice and concentration at first.
It really works, be careful to dark adapt and then allow your peripheral vision to guide your motions. It is less precise to you will have to focus on things when you need to guide your hands to a specific point. However general observation is enhanced with these techniques.
One last point. Ray Mears claims that some members of pre-technological societies have better dark-adapted eyes. I wonder if they are simply more adept at using the rod dense regions of their retinas. Regardless, if you train your eyes in these techniques you may get better results. Personally, I don’t feel that I’m there yet.
Physical hazards
During the new moon I tend to select a more open campsite, ideally on the edge of a meadow. This lets more starlight into the area where I work and reduces the number of small branches that might damage my eyes. I remove as many tree branches below head height in my camp area as possible.
Also, don’t leave the ends of tent or tarp guy lines dangling for the same reason—they will do damage if they get into your eyes. Tuck the ends up against the tarp or coil them against a stake.
The same is true of trip hazards. Try to remove the majority of sticks and stones that might bring you down with a fall. I find this to be more difficult than removing eye pokers. Remember that guy stakes can take you down as fast as an ill located rock. Also look out for small holes, they will grab passing feet when you least expect it.
Routines
At least as important as hazard mitigation, is routine. I try to put my things in a consistent place. Given my discipline issues, it doesn’t always happen. However, if things are in the same place, they tend to be easier to find in the dark. That applies to as many of your possessions as possible.
I have arranged my gear into categorized boxes and bags. I did this to reduce trip packing time—pile them into the truck and go. However, this also makes things easier to find while in the field—especially at night.
When I get to camp, I set up the boxes; kitchen box on the passenger seat, camp box in camp, duffel in the truck bed, and the backpack clipped to the truck’s roof rack.
Inside of the containers things are located in the same place, sorted in the same order. I admit that it’s work to put things back after use, but I intend to do that—how often I follow through is another story. But the follow-through determines success.
These are the ways I’ve found to live with the darkness: cultivating dark adaptation of the eyes, using peripheral vision instead of focused vision, clearing hazards from your living space, and knowing where needed things are located. The rest is psychological and I’ll admit that I don’t have any answers for dealing with a fear of the dark.