Over the summer, my parents and I took a rousing vacation to Northern Alaska. As a young girl, I always yearned to visit Alaska and viewing its vast mountain range and nonpareil wildlife. As there wasn’t much opportunity to see that in the monotonous New Jersey. I have always considered hiking and viewing natural pulchritude as a form of merriment. Case in point, my father and I hiked in the Grand Canyon, approximately three years ago , feeling like diminutive ants astray in the colossal canyon. Likewise, last year my parents and I hiked the foothills of Yellow Stone National Park, our shoes strewed with desiccated sand that were deprived of water. We missed the gargantuan canyon and the repugnant odor of sulfur from the geysers. I immensely enjoyed the hiking we did in Alaska. Nevertheless, what caused me to be aghast in reverence occurred near the beginning of the 2nd day of my trip. As an illustration, my parents and I were traipsing in front of our cottage early…