Swan Quarter, North Carolina, stayed relatively dry in the wake of Hurricane Florence.

While many parts of the state suffered immensely, Swan Quarter, which used to flood regularly and was fully drenched by 2003's hurricane Isabel, remained relatively unscathed.

This was possible because of the community's ability to aside its differences over politics and global warming and build a dike to protect from flooding.

Neighbors J.W. Raburn and Henry Williams are political polar opposites. Mr. Raburn says he may have been the only one in this sound-side hamlet to have voted for Hillary Clinton in 2016. Mr. Williams voted for President Trump.

But the two lifelong friends — along with about 300 or so other North Carolinians who call Swan Quarter home — stood united this weekend against hurricane Florence.

Nearby Oriental, New Bern, and large parts of central North Carolina were devastated when up to 40 inches of rain fell, swelling rivers that are expected to crest later this week. Tens of thousands of residents were displaced, and at least 23 people died.

Yet Swan Quarter, which used to flood regularly and was fully drenched by 2003's hurricane Isabel, stayed largely dry. Sure, Raburn had readied his sailboat, Blue Heaven, as a possible escape. And Williams rued the loss of his beets.

Swan Quarter was flooded in Hurricane Isabelle - so they built a dike 5' high made of steel, earthen berms, and concrete. Courtesy of FEMA Both men cite a remarkable piece of engineering as the town's savior: An 18-mile-long, $13.2 million dike built over 25 years of floods to protect Swan Quarter, the ferry-bound seat of Hyde County, which includes historic Ocracoke Island.

"There is no doubt that dike has saved us. It gives us a little bit of hope," says Raburn. His friend nods.

The dike, completed in 2010, is a piece of political pragmatism that has gained stature as it held up well against during hurricanes Irene and Matthew, superstorm Sandy, and so far, Florence. Another town in Hyde County, Engelhard, faced substantial flooding over the weekend. Discussions about a dike had already begun there before the storm.

The ideological divide over the cause of climate change may have hampered flood preparations in some communities. But there is also growing evidence that mounting property losses, declines in property values, and threatened historical landmarks are wearing away resistance to preparedness. That common purpose might sometimes be hard to see on the national stage. But locally, people are putting aside politics in favor of practical solutions.

"Working in Swan Quarter, flooding is not an ideological issue there. It is a way of life. Same with sea level rise. People have watched it happen within that lived environment. If you watch forests turn to marshland and the roads flood, the politics fade away," says Jason Evans, an environmentalist from Stetson University in DeLand, Florida, who worked on the dike project.

Raburn and Williams, former bandmates, show the human side of the debate. Raburn believes that finding solutions to manmade climate change is vital. Williams, a farmer and volunteer firefighter, does not believe that humans are altering the temperature of the planet, calling it "a phase we are going through." But he is the one who cares for and maintains the dike — a job he takes very seriously.

Floodwater from Hurricane Florence threatens homes in Dillon, S.C. Gerald Herbert/AP Across the Southern coast, such sentiments have begun to bubble up from vulnerable island towns and sound-side communities. Tybee Island, Georgia, has become a leader in developing sea-level adaptation plans now being used from Key West, Florida, to St. Mary's, Georgia.

"The bottom line is we need to assess what we do with property and insurance based on facts and science rather than wishful thinking," says former lawmaker Deborah Ross, now a Raleigh attorney. "And I think we are at a place now where people are more interested in doing that."

Tybee Island is heavily Republican, "but they were willing to hire a long-haired politician like myself at the local level," says Paul Wolff, a former city council member who has worked to depoliticize climate change and sea-level rise. Improvements put into place from the 2012 plan have resulted in lowered flood-insurance premiums.

"The question for people here on the island was for a long time: Why should we [be studying sea level rise] when nobody else is?" says Mr. Wolff. "My answer has been, because we are on the front lines. If we don't deal with it, who will?"

That sense of what Swan Quarter resident Walt Cahoon calls "an intimacy with the land" has put both resort towns and hardscrabble hamlets on the leading edge of climate change adaptation, sometimes at odds with state and federal attention.

"Many people go back six or seven generations. The sense of place is incredibly important," says Professor Evans. "People there have their own brogue. And if you have your own accent, that should tell you something about the place."