Canopies of refuge

Canopies of refuge


Rachel Pritchett
Sun Staff


A woman's terrifying shriek pierces the still woods along Highway 303 near Bremerton one recent frigid morning. The voice seethes with rage. It comes closer and closer. Suddenly, a woman with flashing eyes and wild black hair appears. She's stabbing a sharp, 4-foot-long tree limb at the air in front of her. She finds her target. It's Adam, a young homeless man living in the woods.
"Who took our tent?" she screams. In a white-hot fury, the woman, perhaps in her 40s, swings her weapon full force at Adam. Adam dodges, then reaches out, trying to calm her. She swings again.

Her husband, Bob, wearing an eye patch and appearing worn and disjointed, catches up to the struggling pair. He, too, tries to calm her. Carol, also known as Heather, relinquishes her tree limb. She and Adam embrace.

Her breath is pungent with alcohol.

Carol and Bob have been gone for some time in Seattle.

Adam, 24, tall and slender, assures her in a gentle tenor voice that he didn't steal her tent. He's hidden it, and the three leave to find it.

Kitsap County does a pretty good job of feeding its population of 800 homeless people, but social service providers have not been able to solve the problem of finding adequate shelter to meet the need.

Many say the county has never seen the current level of demand for sheltering the homeless. They say the dearth of housing for the homeless is at a crisis level. As a result, informal tent cities have sprouted up in several spots in Kitsap.

An October 2003 study by the Kitsap Continuum of Care Coalition comprised of food banks, shelters and social-service agencies counted 19 individuals and 16 households living in tents or on the street. The coalition agreed, however, that the actual number is probably at least twice that.

THERE TO HELP

Among the tall trees, Carol, Bob and Adam meet a pleasant-looking woman with gray hair and pink sweater. She is Helene Nelson, a deeply religious person who looks after the most pressing needs of the tenters, feeding them and providing essentials.

Today, she is there to help Carol and Bob collect their things from their old tent site. Nelson and her husband then will drive Carol and Bob to a tent city in Tukwila.

The group finds the site. Carol, now calmer, picks up some of the things she left behind when she went to Seattle. She retrieves a take-out container stuffed with toiletries, a large Bible and a tiny stuffed bunny.

Adam has remembered where he stuffed their tent and retrieves it. Nelson hurries Carol and Bob along. Soon they are gone.

MORNING COFFEE

Earlier that morning, Adam was at Mar's tent. John, who has lived in the woods for five to six years, was there, too. They'd gathered for coffee Mar had made on his tiny campstove.

"Right now, I use Sweet 'N Low," said John in a thick East Coast accent.

Dressed in a tight-fitting cap, worn red jacket and boots, he remembers a cabin he lived in when the forest was owned by the Department of Natural Resources. Back then, he said, the all-terrain vehicles tore up the place on Friday and Saturday nights.

"They were getting pretty wild," said John, 43.

Kitsap County acquired the 359-acre tract in 2001.

A thick canopy of firs shields Mar's tent and tarp from the rain. An American flag hangs over the entrance.

Mar, 40, is talkative and fast-moving. The 1981 Bremerton High graduate is proud of his setup. Seven candles provide light and warmth, and tight containers keep food away from creatures.

"Every food item, even the coffee, came from Mrs. Peebles," he said, referring to homeless advocate Delsie Peebles, who also runs The Lord's Neighborhood Diner in Bremerton, a feeding program. Mar is a frequent helper there.

A tiny battery-powered television is inside. Adam and Mar sometimes get together to watch their favorite show, "The West Wing."

This morning, Mar reviews the local newspaper. He's disgusted that Bremerton would spend money on a tunnel but not on homeless shelters. He's even more disgusted at the Episcopalians' acceptance of gays.

He's put off by tenters who drink beer, the affordable beverage of choice among the seven or so who live here in the woods.

Adam nonchalantly lights a joint.

Mar occasionally gets work by dressing in painter's garb with an assortment of brushes, and standing in front of Kelly-Moore Paints on Highway 303. He tells painters he'll work for $10 an hour.

"I don't ever not get work that way," he said.

The mood outside Mar's tent is intimate.

The tenters remember meals they have shared. A recent spaghetti dinner at Mar's; beef and potatoes at Adam's.

Their main source of food is meals served at local churches and the Salvation Army. The men know the daily schedule by heart.

Their lifestyle appears to preclude a steady woman. "My girl is my dog," Mar said.

The tenters depart for the day. Sometimes they just wander, fulfilling their next task.

John has been known to collect cans and turn them in for money at the nearby Wal-Mart recycling center, and to beg for food and money at the local 24-hour Jack in the Box restaurant.

Sometimes the tenters stand in sheltered areas at the entrance of Fred Meyer or Safeway. Often, they just stay in the woods, some drinking beer.

THE HILTON

Adam probably isn't what the Boy Scouts had in mind back in Montesano, where he grew up.

"I never made Eagle; I didn't want it," he said.

But the scout of five years learned his survival lessons well. The structure he built deep in the woods is known as the Hilton.

Framed in poles expertly lashed together with twine, the cabin stands 10 feet in height at the peak -- tall enough to handle Adam's 6-foot-1-inch frame. Seven tarps cover the walls and roof. At night, the Hilton casts a warm glow through the clearing.

Inside, a colorful knitted afghan hangs over a bunk. Adam sleeps below, his belongings freshly laundered and expertly folded in zip-close bags above.

A pair of ladies' sandals with 4-inch heels is tied to the bedpost. There is a mirror over his bed. Adam, a cross-dresser, enjoys hosting parties with his friends.

Outside, he has built a solar shower but chooses instead to clean up at The Lord's Neighborhood Diner.

"I really do like it out here," Adam said.

Frustrated at paying high rents, he doesn't want to work more than necessary. That amounts to 10 days a month in construction or clean-up work through Labor Ready, the temporary-staffing company that pays workers daily.

A Labor Ready spokesperson was reluctant to discuss hiring the homeless, and would only say the company employs dependable workers from many walks of life.

Adam's passion is skateboarding. In 25 minutes he can cruise from Petersville Road, through the Harrison Hospital parking lot and down to the foot of Manette, he said.

THE SWEEP

A week later, the Hilton, Mar's tent, John's tent and all the others are gone.

Beer bottles and garbage have disappeared. Trash bags of personal belongings are waiting at the side of the forest.

John is sitting on a log drinking beer.

"Every six months they make a sweep-through," he explained.

"They were very nice," he said. "They left my personal property."

Adam and the others have vanished.

"They're still here, but they didn't want anybody to know about it," John said.

John said he'll move to the woods behind Safeway tonight.

This sweep of the forest, to the east of Highway 303 above NE Fuson Road, was conducted by the county in a long struggle over who will use the woods.

Dori Leckner, special projects coordinator with Kitsap County Facilities, Parks and Recreation, is the organizer, called into action in part by members of the Illahee Forest Stewardship Committee.

The committee was formed in 2001 when the county took over the forest from DNR. Members are working to turn the woods into a park with trails and picnic tables -- even a playground and amphitheater, Leckner said.

They keep an eye on things in the woods, alerting Leckner when they believe tents and trash are getting out of hand, Leckner said.

The current sweep is similar to three last year, Leckner said. Each time, she puts together a crew of inmates from the Women's Correctional Center at Purdy, AmeriCorps workers or juveniles working off community service hours.

They give 48 hours' notice to the tenters to leave, she said. If they haven't, the workers dismantle the camps. Her crew never has taken down a tent that has not been served with a notice, Lectner said.

Mar later said he saw no notice; Adam said they gave him less than 24 hours.

So far, 19 abandoned vehicles and 85,000 pounds of trash have been removed from Illahee Forest. Some $8,000 was spent on cleanup in 2003, Leckner said.

Steward Judy Krigsman contacted The Sun, seeking information about whether the tenters' personal items had been taken in this sweep. She said she is concerned about them. Leckner says Krigsman in the past has given the tenters information about available services.

Mar said his things were taken to a trash bin. He looked but couldn't find them. Adam said he received less than 24 hour's notice.

Said Krigsman, "My goal would be to see a men's shelter."

But there isn't one.

Where do you go when you're living on the edge and someone's trying to push you off?

•••

OUR HIDDEN HOMELESS

A five-part series that looks at Kitsap County's struggle to care for more than 800 people

TODAY: Tenters pitch their lives on the outermost edge of homelessness.

MONDAY: For teens, survival is a squat, something to believe in and a little spare change.

TUESDAY: In giant dining halls and under leaky tarps, the hungry are fed.

WEDNESDAY: An appalling lack of housing seals the fate of homelessness.

THURSDAY: With the right services, people can escape homelessness.