Photographs by Linda Popovich

The small town of Haines nestles peacefully overlooking the remote shores of Alaska’s pristine, 90-mile Lynn Canal—the longest Fjord in America. Haines lies at the base of the fog shrouded Takshanuk and Chilkat Mountains, glistening glaciers crawling down their steep black granite canyons. A belt of foothills covered in Pacific Northwest evergreens is all that separates the town from these towering massifs.

Haines is a quiet little harbor town of 2,400 souls. They’re mostly flannel-shirted fishermen, loggers, artists, retirees, and a sprinkle of gold miners, all sharing two things in common. They love the spectacular natural vista of fjord, forest, and mountain that greets them each morning when they open their curtains, and they have no desire to live the city life anymore. They’re here to get away from it all. Some might call them reclusive, and they’d be proud of this.

There’s no rush hour traffic in this isolated village and the residents all know each other, perhaps too well. But they’re genuine and friendly and look you in the face when they talk to you. Their hands are calloused hands from hours of hauling in heavy gillnets laden with struggling salmon, or working outdoors. Bears scavenge through garbage cans in back yards, and the occasional moose strolls through the streets. Visiting Haines is like time traveling back to the 1950’s, and, sadly, it’s not something you’re likely to see in the lower 48 anymore—it’s a remnant of America that has been lost to iPhones, MTV and urban sprawls.

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