A couple of summers ago I did a week on the Grand Staircase. Some of the stuff that truly astounded me, even after spending a lot of time in the rural midwest as child:
* Lying on my back and looking straight up presented more stars than I usually see in the entire sky.
* When the moon rose, it woke me up with the brightness of it. The first night I thought it was morning for a moment.
* Watching satellites go overhead wasn't reserved for just the very reflective ones.
* I thought I'd seen the milky way before. I was very wrong.
* The sparks and tiny flame from a cigarette lighter were painfully bright. The glow of a cigarette lit my companions' faces when they had one (dimly but noticably).
* Staying one night at a motel in the tiny town of Kanab before heading back to civilization, I had trouble sleeping because it was so bright. Staying the next night in Vegas was even worse.
* Lying on my back and looking straight up presented more stars than I usually see in the entire sky.
* When the moon rose, it woke me up with the brightness of it. The first night I thought it was morning for a moment.
* Watching satellites go overhead wasn't reserved for just the very reflective ones.
* I thought I'd seen the milky way before. I was very wrong.
* The sparks and tiny flame from a cigarette lighter were painfully bright. The glow of a cigarette lit my companions' faces when they had one (dimly but noticably).
* Staying one night at a motel in the tiny town of Kanab before heading back to civilization, I had trouble sleeping because it was so bright. Staying the next night in Vegas was even worse.