HOPE, Alaska − Situated fifty miles away from the closest gas station, where the dirt road concludes at abandoned gold mining sites, soothing bluegrass tunes filled the night air.

The band Annie Bartholomew and the Sitka Roses, dressed in unique mosquito-net shirts adorned with purple fringes, entertained a small audience outside the Seaview Cafe, while people in lawn chairs enjoyed their beers. The sunset bathed the snow-capped mountains in a beautiful glow.

“Upon my first visit here, I thought it might just be the most romantic town in the universe,” remarked band member Kat Moore, 42, during an intermission. “Everything feels quaint and historic, surrounded by stunning mountains and incredible nature.”

Long after 10 p.m., the sun still lingered in the sky. Just a day past the summer solstice, daylight continued for nearly 20 hours. As melodies from the musicians floated above, newcomers arrived in campers and pickups, with rattling VW buses and Subaru vehicles ready for camping. On busy weekends, the town’s official population of 130 swells to over 1,000.

This charming location is a popular choice for weddings, as many couples prefer to begin their married life in a place named Hope. The town operates without a formal government; instead, many decisions are made by the nonprofit group Hope Inc., which anyone of voting age can join. The most bustling coffee shop is a cozy cabin whose patrons must navigate around a mother moose and her calf lounging nearby. A gourmet hot dog stand opens at 10 p.m., while the ice cream parlor delivers treats to campers until well after midnight.

Located a two-hour drive from Anchorage, this tiny community is one of 19 towns across the United States sharing the same name.

Throughout the first half of the year, YSL News reporters encountered feelings of frustration and a strong desire for better days during numerous interviews. This prompted a visit to six towns named Hope, spanning from Michigan to Arkansas, and from Maine to Alaska, in search of hope and the obstacles hindering progress.

Here’s what we discovered at the end of the road, nearly as far west as one can travel on the North American continent.

Community is Key in a Tiny Town

In a small town like Hope, residents are familiar with each other’s lives: from the trucks they drive to their new snow machines, and even their breakfast orders.

Although Alaskans tend to revel in their “Last Frontier” status and the freedoms of living in a state with a population comparable to that of Denver, there’s no way to blend into a crowd or avoid the watchful eye of neighbors.

Instead, the severe winter weather — with snowfall as high as three feet in one night being common — fosters a sense of community rarely found in larger cities. It’s wise to maintain good relations with those who control the snowplows.

During long winter nights, when only five hours of sunlight are available, residents of Hope utilize social media to discuss crucial topics, from noise complaints about summer concerts to addressing tourist-related parking and garbage issues. While these online discussions can become heated, community members often check themselves, recognizing they are confronting their neighbors, as mentioned by Barb Bureau, 58, a retired adventure tourism guide who volunteers at the library.

“We must confront each other directly,” she stated. “Communicating face-to-face is far more productive than venting online.”

That said, small-town disagreements can quickly turn personal, particularly over issues like parking, noise, and proper etiquette regarding the community’s “Hope Mall”—the local Dumpsters where residents dispose of garbage and leave unwanted items like bicycles, appliances, or furniture.

Dealing with these minor grievances is “far more stressful and complicated” than addressing broader national issues, according to Jeannine Jabaay, 47, a lifelong Alaskan resident.

Scotty Smith, who many consider the town’s informal leader, arrived in Hope as a river guide two decades ago and went on to start his own rafting company. During summer, thousands flock to Hope to experience the thrilling rapids of Six Mile Creek, which flows into a narrow bay called Turnagain Arm, where the powerful tide attracts surfers.

Anchorage, Alaska’s largest city, lies about 15 miles from Hope as the eagle flies, but no bridge or boat connects the two across the deep, sticky glacial silt of Turnagain.

Smith, 44, mentioned that it was Hope’s seclusion that attracted him. Raised in the Atlanta area, he felt disheartened by the overwhelming politics of it all. He remarked that the situation has worsened, becoming emotional as he remembered harsh social media remarks made by a loving family member.

Planning to homeschool his two children, Smith expressed his desire to teach them the same kindness he sees embodied in his community. He is not in favor of the traditional “red versus blue” politics, opting instead for consensus within the community, though he acknowledges that this can be challenging when longtime locals become annoyed with newcomers.

“When I arrived here 20 years ago, it was quite peaceful,” Smith reflected. “While tourism is beneficial, we currently face a town with minimal infrastructure and high tourist influence.”

Similar to Bureau, Smith noted that minor disputes over parking, waste, and restroom facilities often stir debate on the town’s message board but tend to resolve once residents engage in face-to-face discussions. Due to the town’s limited facilities, the volunteer-run library serves as a favored spot for locals to access a clean restroom rather than relying on pit toilets and Porta Potties scattered throughout Hope.

“You can enter a room and have conversations,” said Smith while collecting raffle tickets to support the library and the volunteer fire department.

Grounds for Hope

Traditionally seen as a hidden retreat for residents fleeing Anchorage, Hope is now becoming a trendy live music hub with three venues. During the solstice weekend, the Creekbend Café, the Dirty Skillet, and the Seaview hosted a continuous series of musical acts, as well as camping and wedding events. Cyclists gathered for a 250-mile mountain bike race, with the fastest riders finishing in under 30 hours, thanks to the nearly endless daylight.

At Grounds For Hope Espresso, owner Samantha Brown, 49, hurried between the espresso machine and the panini press, whipping up homemade burritos, oat milk lattes, and lavender muffins. Most summer mornings, this small cabin serves as an unofficial gathering spot for the community. Smith picked up coffee and breakfast for his family, while a friend sneakily slipped in to pay his tab.

Jack the golden retriever roamed from group to group, greeting visitors and their pets, sniffing around customers’ footwear, which ranged from flip-flops to running shoes, as well as the ever-popular Xtratuf rubber boots, often worn with the tops casually rolled down to showcase bright sea creature linings.

Brown, a retired nurse, acquired the coffee cabin 12 years ago. At that time, her husband was bartending, and they aspired for a quieter way of life, which they found living in a cabin without running water. Now, she and her husband manage the coffee hut five days a week, along with several seasonal vacation cabins for visitors.

“It’s actually a decent setup,” she noted. “The downside is our location; we are quite remote.”

Once a week, Brown drives her Toyota Prius to Anchorage for supplies for both the cabins and the coffee shop. She has observed a steady increase in food prices, particularly eggs, and has adjusted her burrito prices accordingly. Although she believes she leads a low-impact lifestyle, she also mentions taking many flights during her six-month offseason.

Like many in the U.S., she is concerned about her daughter’s future, particularly regarding housing costs and climate change. Brown, like many in Hope, does not have a mortgage. Many homes here are modest, and some of the handcrafted cabins from the early gold rush period still stand strong.

Due to Alaska’s harsh temperatures, particularly in winter, scientists believe it is more susceptible to climate change than other areas in the United States.

Certain coastal Alaska Native villages are facing erosion from rising waters, new plant and insect species are appearing as extensive wildfires ravage the landscape, and experts warn that significant portions of the permafrost are melting, releasing greenhouse gases like methane. The warming waters along the coast are also impacting critical commercial fisheries for crab, cod, and salmon.

Hope is not separate from these issues. It lies along the Turnagain Arm, which leads to the Gulf of Alaska. Locals still recall the aftermath of the 2019 Swan Lake Fire, which devastated 265 square miles on the opposite mountains, blanketing the area with smoke for days. Many residents depend on catching salmon for sustenance, and nearby glaciers retreating can cause rivers to become muddied.

“We witness the changes all around us, so many instances in my time here,” explained Bureau, the retired tour guide. “We are going to face some significant challenges before obliging ourselves to take action.”

It’s becoming clear that many aspects of our lives aren’t sustainable. For instance, driving two hours in gas-powered cars to reach a grocery store might not be the best choice for sustainability.

Isolation as a Unique Feature

The solitude found in Hope is exactly what many visitors are looking for.

Just a short distance from the historic center, Jabaay and her spouse own and operate the Dirty Skillet restaurant along with Bear Creek Lodge Cabins. Previously, they owned a construction business in Anchorage. Although they acquired their home in Hope back in 2007, it wasn’t until 2018, after purchasing the lodge and restaurant, that they fully transitioned to life in Hope. Jabaay felt the environment in Anchorage had become somewhat “icky” and unsafe.

Like many major cities in the U.S., Anchorage has battled issues like homelessness, drug abuse, and crime linked to addiction. With almost 300,000 residents, Anchorage is home to nearly 40% of Alaska’s overall population, despite being the 74th largest city nationwide.

“I was aware of what we were sacrificing—leaving behind that big-city atmosphere. Our move to Hope was about prioritizing lifestyle and the well-being of our children,” Jabaay stated, noting that she and her husband opt to homeschool their six kids. “Honestly, it could have been daunting. We were making a lifestyle change, swapping one way of living for another.”

Now, she wouldn’t change a thing. As the summer solstice approached, staff members buzzed around the Dirty Skillet, serving Anchorage-made beers, burgers, and cherry cheesecake topped with chocolate.

Jabaay and her family are supported by around 14 workers who help run the lodge and restaurant. Out of 700 applicants eager for a summer adventure in Alaska—complete with free housing—those 14 were selected. Several employees mentioned that housing was a crucial factor for their choice since such options are hard to find in the lower 48 states.

“At first glance, it seems like there’s not much to do here,” Jabaay remarked. “It feels like ‘Little House on the Prairie,’ but with subpar Wi-Fi.”

With less reliable internet and long summer days, both residents and tourists find all the reasons to unplug and enjoy activities like hiking or mountain biking. Wildlife photographers venture out to capture images of bears and moose, while anglers search for salmon and halibut in Whittier. Others make the scenic 70-mile drive to Seward to witness how much the Exit Glacier has shrunk over the last 200 years.

Wider afield, visitors are drawn to the Russian Orthodox churches scattered throughout Homer, reminders of Alaska’s Russian history until it was purchased by the U.S. in 1867 for $7.2 million—equivalent to about $120 million today—negotiated by William Seward, Abraham Lincoln’s secretary of state.

The gold rush that attracted settlers to Alaska began shortly after the controversial “Seward’s Folly” purchase, with Hope being established just before 1900. Local lore claims that Hope, named after a prospector, once boasted a population of around 3,000 during its gold rush peak, highlighted by a record of one individual panning 385 ounces of gold in a mere two months—worth over $800,000 in today’s money.

Gold mining in Hope has mostly disappeared, but a local artist creates earrings from gold flakes found in the river.

While relaxing at the bar in the Dirty Skillet as her team served drinks and received praise from guests, Jabaay chuckled, recalling how some tourists end up arriving in Hope searching for a well-known hotel chain that doesn’t exist here. Often, they mistakenly reserve a room in Hope, Arkansas instead. Typically, they take it in stride and find a workaround to enjoy their stay.

“Hope has a unique way of drawing people in,” Jabaay noted. “No one accidentally ends up in Hope. It has to be a deliberate choice.”

Local Politics Matter

Most residents of Hope approach national politics with caution, but Dru Sorenson is not one to hold back. While her neighbors aren’t known for displaying Trump or Biden campaign signs, her “world’s greatest gift shop” is adorned with various political posters, many of which critique both major parties.

Sorenson, affectionately called “Sourdough Dru,” recounted being advised to tone down her political discussions at the Seaview Café. Among her signage are slogans like “Make America Happy Again,” and, “It’s funny until someone files a lawsuit. Be Nice, Hope Alaska.”

Having moved to Hope in 1981 after using her retirement funds to buy land, Sorenson had been camping here since she was a child and jumped at the chance to settle down after living in various places throughout Alaska.

“What drew me here was the freedom to be myself without judgement,” she shared over a breakfast pint of Guinness. “We’re at the end of the road, which adds to its uniqueness. People need to come here intentionally. I promise anyone who visits Hope— you’ll want to return.”

This sentiment was echoed by tourists who visited during the solstice weekend from Anchorage, appreciating the reprieve from the everyday political atmosphere in modern America.

“This never gets old: opening up the camper door to see all of this, watching the kids play in the river while I enjoy a cold Coors for breakfast,” said Ariane Aramburo, 42, an Anchorage news anchor, enjoying the getaway with friends and kids. “Here, there are no sides. It gives you hope that, despite everything, there is still hope for our country.”