Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Dave Stryffeler and his wife have lived on desert land owned by Deschutes County for the past two years. They have a Section 8 voucher but struggle to find housing in Redmond, where the vacancy rate is in the low single digits.





By Molly Harbarger

The Oregonian | OregonLive



REDMOND – By Tuesday, Dave Stryffeler and his wife must leave the home they've made amid scrub brush and junipers in the high desert outside Redmond.



An emissary from the Deschutes County Sheriff's Office visited their trailer recently to deliver the message to Stryffeler and the other 150 or more campers living on rural property just outside city limits. The three local governments that own the land want them gone.



Stryffeler and his wife, Rose White, moved into a trailer on the open land two years ago, and Stryffeler is more than ready to be in an apartment with running water and flush toilets. He wants a home where gunshots from a nearby illegal shooting range don't ring out day and night. He wants back his 3-year-old son, whom he said he lost because he doesn't have an address.



The couple has little hope of attaining any of those goals before they must leave the camp, however, even though White holds down a full-time job.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

The Central Oregon Irrigation District dug a trench at the most popular access point to its undeveloped land. Homeless people are being evicted from the land, where some have lived for seven years.



Their make-shift community, home to people desperate for a place to live as Central Oregon rents soar, reveals the distinct nature of rural Oregon homelessness. Thirty percent of the state's homeless population is concentrated in Multnomah County. But the most explosive growth in percentage terms is outside of the Portland area, where social services are sparse.



Unlike in Portland and other West Coast cities, homeless people rarely panhandle in downtown Redmond; instead, they are mostly dispersed to the outskirts and often invisible. Nor is their lack of housing mostly linked to mental health conditions, addiction or both. In federally mandated surveys, more than 50 percent of unhoused Portlanders say they contend with those challenges. But here in rural Oregon, most adults who lack permanent housing don't. Many work, raise children and live peacefully with close-by neighbors. Advocates vouch that the people camped outside the Redmond city limits could be successful in ordinary housing, if only they could afford it.



But as in most of rural and small-town Oregon, Redmond offers few shelter beds, low-cost apartments, or cheap mobile homes as potential refuge for the burgeoning homeless population. What food and advice is available is provided by a small network of nonprofits and volunteers, who bring big hearts to the work. But they find themselves swamped by the growing scale of the problem.



The crisis is at a head this fall in Redmond, where Deschutes County, the Redmond School District and the Central Oregon Irrigation District are evicting campers from their adjoining parcels in an L-shaped chunk of desert.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Dave Stryffeler has lived among junipers on undeveloped Deschutes County land for two years and is ready for a roof over his head.



Stryffeler faces a difficult choice: Continue to apply for housing even though his felony drug record diminishes the odds the family will qualify or stay out in the cold while his wife signs up without him, so she has a better shot at getting a place and can get his son out of foster care.



The couple used their meager savings to buy White a car so she can travel to and from her full-time job at Sonic Drive-In. Recently, the car was towed from the Redmond street where she parked it, about 100 yards from their camper.



The notice from the Sheriff's Office spurred them to buy a pickup truck that could haul their camper off the property. To pay for the truck, they skipped buying insurance on White's car, which led to the tow.



They owe $125 to the city for towing the car, plus $190 to get it out of the impound lot. Now, White walks an hour both ways, sometimes arriving home at 2 a.m. because the couple can't afford to buy insurance and pay the impound lot.

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Volunteers who bring supplies to the camps outside Redmond serve people who cover dozens of acres of Deschutes County, public school and Central Oregon Irrigation District land.

On a cool September afternoon, Stryffeler was elbow-deep in the engine of the blue and tan truck, fiddling with different parts to get it in working order. He paused and wiped off his tanned, greasy arms when he heard a vehicle approach.



Relieved it wasn't another notice to vacate, Stryffeler admitted to three volunteers who bring supplies to the camps that he didn't have a plan for where he would go. He didn't even have a phone to find out what resources he might tap.



It seems like one thing after another, Stryffeler said.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Some campers have lived on the undeveloped high desert for years, enough time to decorate and build out their homes and know their neighbors.



The couple got robbed for the second time just a few days before and lost the three tanks of propane for the Little Buddy heater that they had lugged to their campsite. They suffered through last winter's brutal cold and snows and were bracing for it well in advance this year, now that temperatures are dropping below 40 degrees at night.



But now they only have $50 on a nonprofit-supplied voucher to last them the rest of the winter and are using the burners on the camper's stove for heat – a dangerous gamble that already resulted in singed toes.



"We're trying to get ourselves out of the rut we're in," Stryffeler said, smearing a black streak of grime on his forehead as he wiped sweat away with his forearm. "We're down and we can't seem to get back up," Stryffeler said.

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Jamie Hale | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Kayakers paddle along the Deschutes River through the heart of the shopping district. Scenes from the Old Mill District in Bend, in early October 2017. Jamie Hale | The Oregonian

NOWHERE TO GO



Deschutes County had a 39 percent increase in its homeless population between 2015 and 2017, the most recent two times the homeless population was formally tallied. On one night in January, 701 people were found residing without a permanent home -- most of whom were living outside.



That number has fluctuated since the 2008 recession, when the Bend area experienced the greatest housing crash in the country, according to real estate website Zillow. Home prices lost nearly half their value between 2006 and 2011.



In Redmond, homeowners saw their investment depreciate by 53 percent.



Since 2011, however, home prices have rebounded throughout Deschutes County, making homes for low-income families largely unattainable. The median home value is now $355,700, according to Zillow, and a one-bedroom rents for $1,695.

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Jamie Francis | The Oregonian

Redmond has long been an affordable neighbor to Bend, and the nearest city to uber-popular tourist attraction Smith Rock State Park.



Redmond, long Bend's more affordable neighbor, now features nearly identical prices.



Yet more than 40 percent of jobs in the area pay $15 an hour or less, according to state employment statistics. Many of those jobs cater to the region's booming tourism industry.



Apartments and homes that once might have housed a couple with limited income are rented out per night on Airbnb and other short-term rental sites. There are 2,510 Deschutes County rooms currently listed on Airbnb alone – 50 percent of Central Oregon's rental supply, according to the Central Oregon Rental Owners Association.

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Jamie Hale | The Oregonian

Vacancy rates in Bend have dipped past 1 percent in recent years.



Molly Heiss, who works for Redmond social service agency NeighborImpact, said that she sees more working class people on the streets than ever before.



"You can't (afford) these kind of rental prices even if you're a household of two working two 12-hour jobs. It's still tough," Heiss said. "We have a lot of folks who are making it work, but they are spending about 80 percent of take-home income on housing."



Many low-income people used to bounce between La Pine, Prineville and Redmond when they couldn't find a place in Bend or, eventually, even Redmond. But even those tiny semi-rural towns have grown too expensive with too few units available, locals say.



Heiss is part of a public-private partnership, the rural homelessness Continuum of Care, which brings together officials from various agencies to brainstorm solutions to the growing problem. They have discussed revitalizing mobile home parks and brainstormed how they might stop developers from building so many giant houses on lots that could fit several affordably priced homes or apartments.



Heiss wants to see more shelters. Those don't address the root of the problem, she acknowledged, but something needs to be done in the short-term.



There's just nowhere to go.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Bethlehem Inn is the largest homeless shelter in Central Oregon, but has strict rules for people who stay there, including gender-separated rooms even for married couples.

FEW PLACES TO TURN FOR HELP



There are few resources to help the exploding homeless population in rural parts of the state. Deschutes County employs one person to connect all of the county's homeless residents with mental and physical health-related care.



In fact, Colleen Thomson is the only person south of Mount Hood with her position.



"It can be a little overwhelming," Thomson said.



This year, Portland and Multnomah County dedicated about $50 million to homeless services this year, with 1,300 taxpayer-funded beds in shelters and motels available. But Deschutes County spends little on homeless services and there are no government-owned shelter beds.



Thomson canvasses all 3,018 square miles to make sure everyone who wants such services has food stamps, is signed up on the Oregon Health Plan and can access substance abuse and mental health services. She travels with volunteers out to the Redmond camps once a week now, too, to build relationships with people who live in remote places that she might not find on her own.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Bethlehem Inn is the largest homeless shelter in Central Oregon, and one of the only places for families to stay.



She uses those regular meetings to figure out what kind of housing folks might be successful in.



"Who am I to say what a house looks like for somebody? Or a home. That doesn't necessarily mean four walls and running water," Thomson said. "It has to be individualized because everyone's experiences are different and their needs and wants, too."



But Thomson finds that thinking a hard sell in the Bend area.



Trailer and RV parks have been one of the best ways to house people with low incomes, but those now offer fewer spaces and higher prices. In Portland, officials have come up with land or money and relaxed some rules to create new shelters. They've also organized camps such as Dignity Village and Hazelnut Grove. But many Deschutes County officials and residents resist those approaches.



Instead, rural land gets cleared of squatters every few years, raising the issue: Where can people who can't pay the rent go? Bend has gone through the cycle several times, meaning access to much close-in rural land is now blocked.



"I think what's frustrating in our community sometimes is there aren't solutions," Thomson said. "So the buzz happens and then the buzz fades out."



To help clients in Bend, Thomson wants a low-barrier shelter, where people who are addicted to drugs or alcohol could stay the night as long as they didn't use the substances on site. Low-barrier shelters in Portland allow pets and couples -- also sticking points in Deschutes.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Sonja Hill and Bob Berreth enjoy early fall sunshine in the gathering area of Bethlehem Inn, a homeless shelter in Bend.



But Chris Clouart, who runs Central Oregon's largest shelter in Bend, questions whether more temporary facilities with looser rules are the answer.



"What we're really discussing is: Is there room in the economy for the people who live here?" Clouart said.



He is skeptical that a self-policing semi-permanent camp like Dignity Village would help much when the driving force is the profound mismatch between the area's chic and expensive housing stock and the people trying to make do on $9 an hour service jobs.



Clouart's shelter serves more seniors than ever, and women like Leilani Moran who moved from Maui to Bend with her grown son and his family. In the 2 ½ months she's been in Bend, she has struggled to find so much as an affordable room. When she couldn't fit in an apartment with her son, his wife and their three children, Moran ended up at the Bethlehem Inn.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Leilani Moran moved to Bend with her son, his wife and their three sons, but had to move out of the apartment they shared because it was too cramped. She is living at a homeless shelter while waiting for her Social Security benefits.



"I am so grateful to be here instead of on the street," Moran said as she rested in the September sun at a few picnic tables that serve as the shelter's common area.



Clouart admits that the Bethlehem Inn is not for everybody. Residents can stay for seven nights before they must work with a case worker on a plan to leave the old motel-turned-shelter. Men and women, even if married, must sleep in a room with five other people. In most cases, they are assigned bunk beds with trunks for limited belongings.



They want people who are stable enough to move out quickly – the "Bethlehem Inn and Out" model, Clouart jokes. But people are staying longer than ever – a month on average, sometimes as many as nine.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Many of the residents of Bethlehem Inn are waiting for their federal Social Security or disability benefits to be approved.



The motel was built in 1961 and the green carpeted 125-square-feet rooms smell a little funky, a sign that they have spent the past decade continuously occupied by six pairs of sweaty feet. Clouart is overseeing construction of a two-story building with a commercial kitchen that will allow him to house five more families and move into real offices, rather than the trailer the staff works from now.



Clouart is critical of the way local governments have handled the burgeoning homeless crisis and is frustrated that he must turn away people every day.



"People don't feel like it's government's job in the area to satisfy that need," Clouart said.



He fields calls and walk-ups constantly. Just a few years ago, he had beds to fill. Now, 1,000 people a year stay for at least a night.



"If you build more shelter, you've given up on homelessness, because you've given up on homeless people," Clouart said.



"Either you find a way to solve this issue or you bring out the dead and cart away the bodies."

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Henry "Hawk" Cook has lived on land owned by the Central Oregon Irrigation District for years. He lost his former housing when his mother's home was foreclosed while he was in drug treatment.

'SOMETHING'S GOT TO GIVE'



Henry "Hawk" Cook, 64, doesn't want to integrate into mainstream society anymore. He lived in Prineville with his sick mother until she died. Cook wandered a bit before he entered drug treatment in Washington. He returned to find his mother's house foreclosed on and moved into the camps.



He lives on land owned by a local irrigation district, which is trying to sell its 200-acre parcel valued at about $8 million. The water agency initiated the drive to remove the campers and aggressively enforces it. It dug a deep trench and lined it with rocks to block vehicles from entering and exiting the most commonly used entrance to the land.



So Cook and others must either walk, bike or drive off-road vehicles to get into town to eat a hot meal, as Cook does most every night. He recently smoked a cigarette outside the Church of God Seventh Day after a dinner of chicken and vegetables provided by Jericho Table, which hosts a dinner each weeknight.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Henry "Hawk" Cook has lived on land owned by the Central Oregon Irrigation District for years. He said he has no idea where he will go now. Molly Harbarger/Staff



Cook likes his old white Airstream-shaped home. He built a split rail fence around it, decorated it with a few American flags and erected a tent to store the possessions that don't fit into his tiny living space.



He has lived there for three years, enough time to battle cancer, move from a tent to a camper, befriend his neighbors and make his space feel homey. But neighbors have left, and he knows his time is coming too.



"It's pretty spooky at night hearing nothing. There used to be all kinds of laughter," Cook said.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Chris Miller (left) and Sherry Fortener try to raise their 4 and 8 year old sons in a tent on rural land outside Redmond while they search for housing.



Inside the church, a combined family took up a whole table at the back. They had just found an apartment that could fit all four adults and six children ages 2 to 13 and would take their Section 8 voucher. The government help would bring their out-of-pocket costs down from $1,250 to $80. But they weren't in the mood for celebrating.



They still needed to sign papers, then work to get some of their children out of foster care. They were placed in state care, their parents said, when the family moved into tents outside Redmond.



They'd lived for a year in Redmond, but were evicted when the landlord decided to sell. Subsequently, they were told they were too numerous for the Bethlehem Inn and were quoted $3,200 upfront to move into a three-bedroom apartment. They ended up squatting on rural land in a few tents given to them at Jericho Table.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Sherry Fortener and Chris Miller try to raise their four-year-old son in a tent on rural land outside Redmond while they search for housing.



Sherry Fortener, half of one couple, said she and her wife Chris Miller searched every day for housing, desperate to get inside as the weather gets colder. Fortener works at Walmart and Miller works for Jack in the Box, but they barely make enough to buy food, she said.



They eat at Jericho Table when they can. They also go to St. Vincent de Paul food pantry in Redmond, which hands out food boxes each Wednesday. But some of that food needs to be cooked, and they don't have a heating source in their camp.



"Here, if you didn't have transportation, you wouldn't be able to eat at night," Miller said.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Some campers have lived on the undeveloped high desert for years, enough time to decorate and build out their homes and know their neighbors.

A MOVING PROBLEM



Kenny LaPoint, who works for the state housing agency in Salem and was based in Central Oregon for nine years, said one of the greatest challenges of rural homelessness is that it's all too easy to disappear.



LaPoint expect to see new issues crop up on federal Bureau of Land Management land just past the county boundaries, where rules allow people to camp there for 14 days.



Ousted campers "will go somewhere close," LaPoint said. "I'd hate to say that's probably federal land that they're going to end up on."

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Campers leave behind trash, supplies and wood they cut to keep warm as they pack up and move on.



LaPoint said he saw apartment vacancy rates go from 14 percent to half a percent in a few years before he left. The state helped finance a 15-unit affordable housing complex in Redmond recently, but state and local officials know it won't make a dent in housing everyone who needs a roof.



"The city and county need to address the long-term issue there," LaPoint said.



Redmond's homeless advocates were excited on a September morning as Bob Bohac jolted his truck over hard-scrabble ground to the camps. The night before, the Redmond City Council agreed to allow a private developer to use his 18 acres of undeveloped land to house 36 homeless families from the camps.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

Ken Cardwell started visiting the camps on rural land outside Redmond three years ago, and has visited about once a week since, bringing food, water, propane and other supplies.



It was the first positive breakthrough Bohac and Ken Cardwell had seen since they began volunteering to help the region's homeless population almost three years ago.



"It's not permanent housing, but it'll be good and much safer temporary housing," Bohac said.



When the pair of retirees first started helping the homeless, they drove four five-gallon propane tanks and six gallons of water out to 15 campsites each week. But the campsites multiplied and the process was unwieldy. A rotating cast of volunteers now gives out food, clothes, water and fuel from a single site. They distribute 200 gallons of water per day in the summer, 100 gallons of propane in winter.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

The view inside a house made from tires left on undeveloped Deschutes County land outside Redmond.



On Mondays, Thomson and other social workers help people sign up for housing waitlists and health plans and make appointments for doctors visits. The volunteers do their best to figure out what else is needed so that the campers can survive.



They know the conditions of the camps well, though they serve only some of the staggering number of people who live there. Bohac said they had to stop distributing propane altogether recently because of the high cost of fuel. They also don't cross to the camp's northeast corner, where there is more drug and criminal activity.



For most of the homeless people in Redmond, this crew of volunteers is their only source of help. When they have to move off the public land, many worry their tether to that help will sever.

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Molly Harbarger | The Oregonian/OregonLive

A mock security camera surveys an abandoned camp on land owned by the Central Oregon Irrigation District, which is being cleared of homeless campers who lived there for years.



Cardwell, who runs Jericho Table, frets about what will happen if he and other volunteers lose track of people who are on the brink, like the woman who sleeps in her Jeep Cherokee after an acrimonious divorce left her with nothing.



That afternoon, Margaret King accompanied Bohac and Cardwell long enough to meet Dave Stryffeler, then left to find his wife. King eventually used money she collected from selling a washer and other unused items on Ebay to pay for White to get her car insured and out of the impound lot.



"You get people who are really neat people but run into bad luck, and they lose their identity out there," Cardwell said.

-- Molly Harbarger

mharbarger@oregonian.com

503-294-5923

@MollyHarbarger