I’ve been walking a lot lately. Today I walked at a favorite location: the Sandy River Delta. It costs money to park in the parking lot, so I park at the Lewis & Clark State Recreation Area (which FYI as of October 1 also requires a $10 per day parking permit, but you can get an annual permit for only $30).
The path to the Delta goes under a railroad bridge and then under the east bound and westbound lanes of the I-84 freeway.
Today I passed two big dumpsters just before I got to the underpasses, both filled to the rims with plastic bags and trash. I thought, uh-oh.
Many homeless people live in encampments along the Sandy River, just past the freeway. At least, until now.
Today I walked under the underpass and found two uniformed guards standing in front of a white canopy tent. A portapotty on a little trailer was parked next to the tent. One of the guards was young and pale, with a toothy smile. The other was older and shorter with brown skin (not Hispanic, more like Middle Eastern). Both perked up when they saw me coming toward them.
I emerged into the sunlight, put on my I-come-in-peace face, and said hello, how are you doing? Then I asked, what are you doing?
“Making sure no one goes that way,” the young guy said, pointing toward the River where the encampments were.
“Oh, that’s what those dumpsters . . . ?”
He nodded.
I pointed in the opposite direction, toward the Delta parking lot. “I always go that way.”
I almost told them I got lost in the woods one time and passed many little huts, tents, and tarp shelters pitched among the trees and along the riverbank. Why bother, though? I just wanted to tell someone I got lost. It’s not exactly news. I get lost pretty much everywhere I go. For sure, I didn’t want to ask my burning question: Where the hell do you think these people are going to go?
“Have a nice day,” said the kid.
Speaking of unhoused, I’m still waiting to hear if the property management company is going to rent to me. I’m living in limbo these days, roaming the I-5 freeway, bopping from one rest area to another, trying to avoid Portland as much as possible. I wouldn’t call this the nomadic life the YouTubers gush about. This lifestyle reminds me of a short sci-fi story I read once, where parking was so scarce, people spent their lives in their cars. Obviously, that was before drive-thru was de rigeur.
The weather is shifting toward winter here in the Pacific Northwest. Nights are getting cold. Sunbreaks are rare, which means I’m having to charge my big power station at a library or coffee shop. Compared to living in the Arizona, maintaining electricity while homeless is a lot of work.
Not to mention, Portland is apparently on fire. Somehow that happened, and I didn’t notice.
I would head south right now but there’s a No Kings day planned for October 18. Gotta be there. Then I have medical stuff in early November. The minute that is done, I’m making tracks for Arizona.
Unless I get housing. Then a new chapter begins.