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Tim, a homeless man who was living along Coyote Creek in Milpitas, was rescued on Thursday after floodwaters surrounded his campsite. Many homeless people choose to tough the weather outdoors rather than stay in a shelter.
Karl Mondon/Staff
Tim, a homeless man who was living along Coyote Creek in Milpitas, was rescued on Thursday after floodwaters surrounded his campsite. Many homeless people choose to tough the weather outdoors rather than stay in a shelter.
Eric Kurhi, Santa Clara County reporter, San Jose Mercury News. For his Wordpress profile. (Michael Malone/Bay Area News Group)
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Before the massive storms that drenched the Bay Area last week, social workers reached out to the homeless, hoping to get as many out of harm’s way as possible.

Although there are about four times as many people living on the streets in Santa Clara County as beds available for them in local shelters, there was still room to spare amid the deluge.

That underscores a key challenge for local officials in dealing with such a vulnerable population: Many so cherish their independence that they’d rather face the elements alone than accept an offered bed. And it’s a big worry, given deaths among the county’s homeless spiked to a six-year high in 2016.

“It’s been said that the reasons they don’t come in is because it was either cold or rainy, but not both,” said Robert Dolci, of Santa Clara County’s Office of Supportive Housing. “We did outreach in an area that really started to flood in Gilroy on Monday night, and a man there refused. He would rather wait it out setting up on a stack of pallets.”

Santa Clara County added room to emergency shelters in Gilroy and San Jose, and neither site reached capacity last week.

Andrea Urton, CEO of the HomeFirst nonprofit that runs the South Bay winter weather shelters, said the Boccardo Reception Center in San Jose usually gets 170 to 200 people any given night, but approached 275 in the past week — still short of its 350 capacity.

The Sunnyvale winter shelter is the exception. But it’s a referral-only center — people can’t simply drop in on any given day — and has a waiting list more than twice its 125-person capacity.

“There are people who can’t get in even with a referral,” said Greg Pensinger of the Downtown Streets Team, one of the county’s main outreach organizations. “The numbers would suggest that we could use more room.”

Elaine de Coligny, of EveryOne Home in Alameda County, said that they’d increased capacities there, too, and have seen more people coming in. But there’s also room to spare there, as there is at Santa Cruz shelters and even at the Veterans Hall in Guerneville right next to the flood zone.

“The demand escalates when it gets colder, it’s raining or the river rises,” said John Haig, of the Sonoma County Community Development Commission. “During the storm we had day services available as well, and that brought more people in, but there was still room available.”

Dolci said they have made cages available for folks who won’t come inside without their animal companion, and while they don’t allow alcohol inside facilities, they won’t turn away anyone who is intoxicated as long as they behave themselves. He’s in the process of setting up a texting program that will alert homeless people via cellphone when more beds are available. But the drop-in centers still don’t fill up.

“Sometimes it’s the structure, or lights going out at a certain time, or them having to leave at a certain time,” he said. “With all the outreach we do, some people still won’t come in. It’s sad.”

While many homeless people took advantage of a dry mat or cot beneath a sound roof, many more chose to stay outside and weather the storm with extra tarps, a move to higher ground, or temporarily crashing at a more protected spot.


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Anthony King, a formerly homeless man who now does outreach work through Sacred Heart Community Service, said there’s a certain demographic within the homeless community that’s not going to seek shelter, and it’s based on an age of sorts — the amount of time someone has been on the streets.

“You’ll see some people who are maybe more infirm go to the shelter for respite,” he said. “Or those who aren’t as savvy a winter camper as they are a summer camper. They’ll say, ‘Forget this — I’ll put my stuff in storage and take the bare minimum into a shelter.’”

And for those who remain on the streets, “they employ a certain sophistication about how they camp,” King said.

They know of places, not-so-secret spots alongside downtown buildings or in public parks, that offer shelter until the sun comes up and a business owner or park ranger arrives. Abandoned buildings that have a driveway that dries out fast are a boon, and there are plenty of traditional sites that have long been utilized by those seeking a temporary dry spot, the locations learned by word-of-mouth.

To the south, clusters of homeless people huddled under the protective covered bridge in the Santa Cruz County town of Felton as waters approached the flood stage earlier this week.

And homeless communities along the Russian River, which total 200 to 250 people according to Haig, often head away from the water and toward the cities and highway crossings.

“Whether it’s the alcoves of buildings or underpasses or alongside day service centers, people living in the outskirts of society have an ability to move fluidly from one place of opportunity to the next,” Haig said. “And of course we don’t know all the places.”

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One 56-year-old homeless man’s scrub-covered territory off Ranch Road in Milpitas turned into a Coyote Creek island on Thursday, and when he awoke and peered out of his tent flap, he saw the polluted runoff was four feet away and advancing.

“By the time I got my boots on and headed out, it was up to the tents’ edge,” said the man, who said his name is Tim and declined to give a last name. “I live out here ’cause se there’s no one else around — I don’t mess with anyone and nobody messes with me, and I like it like that. I didn’t want to call for help, but I thought if I didn’t, I’d be floating out, facedown.”