By Julia Ditto
In the Brooks Range, the landscape moved and breathed on a scale too slow to watch, as if time had stopped completely. Mountains weathered away, while spruce crept slowly up the rocky slopes, but I could not sense such motion. The sun never set. My 42-day trip was just a blink of an eye for the land I walked upon. I was seeing the Brooks Range as others had seen it years ago—an untouched, sacred piece of the world. May it always remain so.