Inside the Alaskan village where nature, faith, and community come together

Our mission, Bedein – Agents of Hope, had started there the previous summer, rooted in a simple question: How can wilderness and community help people regain strength in a world strained by trauma and uncertainty?

Over the following months, we carried those seeds across continents, documenting retreats and communities that use spirituality and the natural world as catalysts for renewal. From glaciers to deserts, rainforests to coastlines, we documented retreats and communities that use spirituality and the natural world as medicine.

Eleven months later, we went back to Alaska to close the circle, tracing the journey’s beginning to its deeper meaning.

This time, we journeyed deeper than before, to a village reachable only by small plane – Port Alsworth, on the southeastern edge of Lake Clark National Park. What awaited us was a living model of how faith, wilderness, and hospitality intertwine to create one of the most remarkable wellness destinations on Earth.

To understand Port Alsworth is to grasp how far vision, family, and flight can carry people.

The village is home to fewer than 200 residents yet serves as the human gateway to a wilderness the size of Switzerland. With no roads leading in or out, every arrival depends on the buzz of small aircraft skimming Hardenburg Bay.

The story began in 1944, when Leon “Babe” Alsworth Sr., a World War II veteran, and his wife, Mary, homesteaded this shore. With their bare hands, they cleared the forest, built cabins, and carved a landing strip. Babe became both a bush pilot and a missionary, ferrying mail, medicine, and hope across Alaska’s roadless expanse, while Mary opened their home to travelers. From their courage grew a settlement that still thrives on faith and self-reliance.

By 1951, the US Post Office recognized the growing community, and soon after, more cabins and gardens appeared along the lake. Aviation remained its lifeline. Without planes, the settlement could not exist; with them, it became a center of connection – linking distant villages, travelers, and eventually programs that changed lives far beyond Alaska.

The Alsworth legacy continues in flight. Today, Lake Clark Air, still family-run, links Port Alsworth with Anchorage, carrying supplies, mail, and visitors. Its red-and-white planes have become part of the landscape, as familiar as the surrounding peaks.

The pilots of Lake Clark Air are much more than transporters of people or cargo; they carry forward a legacy of responsibility and care. From their early teens, sons and grandsons begin their training, learning the craft of flight while inheriting a profound sense of duty toward both community and wilderness. Watching them navigate ridges and rivers, one senses that flying in these skies is both a skill and a legacy – a way to serve others while protecting the wilderness that sustains them.

Each flight feels like an act of trust – in the pilot’s instinct, the shifting weather, and the vastness of the wild below. From low altitude, passengers glimpse moose grazing in meadows, salmon flashing in rivers, and bears pacing the shoreline. Every landing of the seaplanes on Hardenburg Bay feels like a quiet miracle of coordination and calm.

A weekly rhythm of hope: Bible camps for village kids

Every summer, Port Alsworth bursts with youthful laughter. For eight weeks, Tanalian Bible Camp welcomes children flown in from remote Native villages scattered across Alaska’s farthest reaches. For many, this is their first journey beyond home.

Each week, about 60 children step off bush planes, clutching sleeping bags and wide-eyed with wonder. At the camp, they swim, hike, and learn – but more importantly, they build friendships and discover belonging.

Founded more than 60 years ago with Babe Alsworth’s blessing, the camp continues on land he leased to the organization for free – a legacy the family still upholds. Generations have since returned as counselors, paying forward the same gift of acceptance they once received.

Planes land, children spill out, laughter fills the air, and by week’s end they depart, replaced by new arrivals. What remains is a growing sense of confidence and community – a reminder that even in isolation, joy and purpose can take flight.

If the Bible camp nurtures the young, another initiative offers renewal for adults bearing unseen burdens. For 14 years, Samaritan’s Purse has hosted Operation Heal Our Patriots in Port Alsworth – a program dedicated to strengthening wounded veterans and their spouses.

For 14 weeks each summer, couples arrive on small planes, greeted by the entire town at the gravel airstrip. Children wave flags, elders offer blessings, and families line up to shake hands and say thank you. Long before any counseling begins, healing already stirs – through gratitude, community, and shared emotion.

The week that follows blends faith-based counseling with wilderness adventure: bear viewing, fishing on Lake Clark, hiking trails, paddling quiet coves, and evenings of reflection. These shared experiences rekindle communication, trust, and partnership. Many couples leave with restored connection, renewed purpose, and the courage to rebuild their lives together.

Standing on that airstrip, watching the town welcome each arrival, I realized this was not a ceremony – it was living empathy. Port Alsworth shows that recovery can begin not in clinics or classrooms but in the embrace of a community that truly cares.

The Farm Lodge: Where wilderness meets hospitality

At the center of the visitor experience stands The Farm Lodge, a family-run retreat that captures the essence of the region. From above, it looks like a watercolor – cabins lining Hardenburg Bay, docks stretching into still water, and floatplanes resting quietly at anchor.

Our cabin was simple but inviting, pine-scented, and steps away from from the lake. Mornings began with the hum of engines and the aroma of fresh-baked bread. Meals were shared in a communal hall, long tables filled with travelers, guides, and locals – a gathering of stories and gratitude.

Days followed a rhythm of exploration and rest: morning briefings with pilots, afternoon excursions to glacier-fed valleys or coastal flats, and evenings spent over hearty Alaskan fare, laughter, and reflection. The lodge’s warmth lay not just in comfort but in genuine care – an atmosphere where guests quickly felt part of a larger family.

The lodge’s defining experience is its bear-viewing expedition, less a tour than a passage into nature’s cathedral.

After breakfast, we boarded a floatplane that skimmed across the bay before lifting above ridges and braided rivers. From the air, the landscape pulsed with life: moose threading through forest, caribou tracing mountain paths, and salmon shimmering in the shallows.

As we descended toward the coast, dark forms appeared along the riverbanks – bears, dozens of them, fishing and moving through a soft veil of mist. When we landed, the world narrowed to the sound of water and the steady rhythm of wild lives unfolding.

For four hours, we witnessed nearly 20 brown bears enacting the timeless ritual of the salmon run. A mother guided her three cubs with calm precision, fishing while guarding them from curious males. A lanky juvenile hovered nearby, clumsy yet determined. Two giants clashed on a gravel bar, their thunderous roars echoing across the valley.

The scene overwhelmed the senses – the smell of fish, the splash of water against heavy paws, the sheer power unfolding within arm’s reach. At first, instinct whispered fear, the primal awareness of being so close to something untamed.

But fear softened into awe, and awe into reverence. Other guests spoke in hushed tones, as if inside a cathedral. Time seemed to pause; our breath moved with the current.

For me, it was one of the most profound wildlife encounters of my life. Studies show that awe reduces stress and cultivates emotional balance, and on that riverbank I felt it happen: adrenaline giving way to gratitude, fear dissolving into humility. This was not performance – it was perspective, a form of quiet therapy offered by the wild itself.

When we returned to the lodge that evening, dinner conversation sparkled with retellings: the cubs’ splashes, the clash of titans, the grace of the mother bear. Each family member had their own version, yet all agreed – the experience stays with you long after the roar fades.

Into the silence: Wilderness Pro Lodge

If The Farm Lodge celebrates togetherness, Wilderness Pro Lodge offers solitude. Accessible only by boat, it rests on the turquoise shore of Lake Clark, surrounded by mountains that seem to breathe with the wind.

Here, silence itself becomes a guide. Days unfold gently: fishing clear rivers, hiking to waterfalls, soaking in a wood-fired sauna beneath the stars. Evenings bring shared meals at long tables, where conversation softens and time seems to pause.

The simplicity of this place redefines comfort – not through luxury but through presence. Guests rediscover stillness, rediscover themselves, and leave carrying the memory of what quiet truly feels like.

Port Alsworth may appear as a dot on the map, yet it stands as proof of how faith, community, and wild beauty can shape a way of life.

Here, children arrive by plane with sleeping bags and leave with confidence. Veterans step onto gravel runways and depart with new strength. Travelers come seeking adventure and find reflection.

For us, after a year tracing wellness communities across the Americas, Port Alsworth became a compass – pointing toward what’s possible when people choose to live with purpose and care.

From the stillness of a remote lodge to the wonder of bear country, to the fellowship of Bible camps and army veteran programs, this Alaskan village has become one of the world’s most inspiring sanctuaries of renewal.

As our plane lifted above the lake and into the clouds, I knew this wasn’t the end of a journey. It was the quiet beginning of what must continue – bringing home the lessons of Alaska to Israel, to the Gaza border, and to every place still waiting for peace to take root.