Time, Place, and Manner

 

Two years ago, the state of Oregon passed a law—ORS 195.530—that “city or county law that regulates the acts of sitting, lying, sleeping, or keeping warm and dry outdoors on public property that is open to the public must be objectively reasonable as to time, place, and manner with regards to persons experiencing homelessness.” The law went into effect in July 2023, so there was a flurry of activity as cities tried to figure out what to do and how to comply. Many cities determined that homeless people could camp in a specific area—in some small towns between two specific trees in front of city hall—but had to move in the morning, every morning. Corvallis decided on a broader approach, allowing overnight camping in city parks as long as it did not impact natural features or riparian areas, or playgrounds and playing fields, but the sleeping arrangements must be packed up and moved every day.

I have taken long backpacking trips, where everything I needed was in my beloved grey pack on my back, creaking as I moved. I have read dozens of books about thru-hiking and long walks and I feel the pull of being rootless every fall.  I have been on the road, living with my parents in a camper for eight or ten months and, later, in my van for long periods of time. I have couch surfed for several months. I have had my family double up with another family because of financial challenges. In all of these moments of shifting and unstable housing, I have always been safe. There has always been some sort of safety net beneath me and I have been mentally and physically healthy. Even then, there have been times when I have felt a deep disconnect from the society I am moving through, unsettled as night fell, and, sometimes, psychically frail. Each time, I have come through because I have chosen this path and there is an end.

In effect, what this new law does is turn people without stable housing into thru-hikers on the AT, packing up and moving on every day, with the crucial distinction that thru-hikers choose this life. Thru-hikers travel in informal packs, walking alone or in small groups during the day, carrying all of their belongings, and then landing on the designated campsites in the evening. They often eat meals on the trail, not in the camp. They pick up pre-packed supplies in designated town. They leave the trail for mental and physical breaks. Even so, it is a challenge to keep going, to be dislocated every single day and set up a new camp every night. So, most importantly, if they can’t stand it anymore, they return to their lives.

So, we, all over the state, are asking people without stable housing to move into an area after we are done with it for the day, set up a sleeping spot, and then be gone in the morning before we come back. Leave no trace. The vast majority of people living on our streets and in our parks are not able to do this. First, they do not have the means—the beloved creaking backpack—to pack up their equipment every day. “We’ve been posted,” one woman told me a few weeks ago, while her dogs leaned against my shins, asking me to rub their ears. “We have two dogs, our stuff, and no way to get it anywhere else. What are we supposed to do?” Then, they often do not want to leave the community they developed in their illegal camps. People often ask for a second coffee for someone else when we are out on Street Outreach—he’ll be right back, they say.  People look out for one another in the camps. Not everyone. Not all the time. But often enough. Finally, and most importantly, it is far more difficult to move out of camping if you are changing camps every day. Having a stable place to stay, even if it is a tent between the path and the river, is the first step to moving back into stable housing. Housing First.  If you are in the same spot, you can go look for help with your paperwork, set up an appointment for an interview, figure out how to charge your phone so you can learn about the pickup job on Tuesday. There is the first step towards stability.

I don’t have the answers to these problems. We need physical and mental health care. We need more affordable housing. We need drug treatment centers. We need group homes where people can be supported in their lives. We need to tax Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos back down to reality. What we do not need to do is ask our most vulnerable citizens to move camp every night so that we never see them.