Like many who find themselves without a permanent home, Pat Olson never imagined he’d be living out of an RV.
After a divorce separation, Pat sold his house. A sudden downturn in his physical health forced him to leave a stable job.
What was meant to be a temporary stay in an RV while he looked for work and permanent housing turned into a five-year journey.
“I found myself having no money, no income, trying to take care of my dogs and myself. And it was hard,” Pat said. “People don't understand that if you don't have a brick-and-mortar address, employers don't want you because they think you're not gonna show up to work.”
Pat tried to follow the City of Portland’s policies on RV parking; he stayed away from streets where other campers would congregate, did his best to keep a clean and respectful environment around his vehicle, and tried to avoid fines and confrontations.
“I wanted to be a good neighbor,” Pat said of his time parking in residential neighborhoods.
But finding a place to park, one where he wouldn't be disturbed or forced to leave, was a constant battle.
“Roughly every three weeks, I’d have to find a new spot where I’d feel safe,” Pat said. “My life was in chaos… being moved from location to location around the city, trying to find a place to …wouldn't say live, but to survive.”
Living in an RV might sound like a better alternative to tent camping, but as Pat explains, the reality is far from idyllic. A locking door provided some security and privacy, but Pat’s RV was still broken into when he left it unattended for an emergency hospital visit.
And there was technically a roof over his head, but the vehicle didn’t have power.
"If you don't have power, you're disconnected from the world," Pat said. Access to clean water and pumping out waste from his RV was the most difficult to navigate. And simply charging his phone meant a trip to the library or scrambling to find a public power outlet.
The stress and insecurity of Pat’s situation made even the smallest tasks feel monumental. Meanwhile, his health continued to deteriorate.
The RV shelter model
Things took a positive turn for Pat when he met Megan, an outreach worker with the Portland Bureau of Transportation. She told him about Sunderland RV Safe Park in North Portland, a place where people like him can park their RVs for the short or long term, while being connected to amenities and support resources – all of which are intended to foster stability and give residents a chance to rebuild.
Pat admits he was skeptical at first but felt hopeful as Megan followed up with him over several months. When he finally arrived at Sunderland, Pat was relieved.
"It was the first time in years my RV didn’t have to move," he said. “I put down the jacks, and it felt like I could breathe again. I finally felt safer.”
Sunderland RV Safe Park, which opened in July 2023 and is operated by The Salvation Army, differs from the other City shelters by addressing a need that wasn’t previously met by other programs in Portland’s homelessness service system.
According to the Joint Office for Homeless Services 2022 point in time count, approximately 20% of people living unsheltered identified as living in a vehicle of some sort. Many individuals, like Pat, were priced out of their homes or faced eviction and opted to live out of a vehicle as their last resort before unsheltered tent camping outside.Many of the RVs are old, broken down and not necessarily safe for human habitation, especially when parked on a residential street. The City is opening another shelter on N. Portland Road with 70 RV parking spaces and 90 tiny home pods, expanding capacity and offering more options for those experiencing homelessness in the community.
At Sunderland, residents find more than a place to park; they encounter a sense of safety, community, and resources that help them start anew.
The shelter includes 55 parking spots, each with electrical hookup for generators to power the vehicles and a “yard space” where many participants have decorated and created small gardens outside of their temporary homes. The site also has bathrooms, showers, a laundry facility, a food pantry and a daily hot meal. A contracted company comes to pump out the gray water tanks for the RVs.
“We do have a lot of resources, but these folks are very resilient and still contending with a lot of challenges living the way that they do,” said site manager Phil.
“When folks come into the program, they come with all sorts of different stories and journeys,” Phil said. “For some, it’s drug addiction and recovery. Some it's financial instability. Many are not connected to family units or friend systems that have been able to catch them. And so we get to, as a team, come together and be that for them for a time.
“Often, folks been living in a certain way that has cost them the vision that they might be able to live in a different way. And so, our intent and our mission and what we put our efforts towards is helping them set goals, remember their dream of the way that they wanna live, and to see that come to fruition.”
A push toward self-sufficiency
Sunderland’s approach is not about offering a permanent solution but rather helping residents regain stability to eventually transition to permanent housing.
Participants start their journey with an intake interview. A case manager will ask motivational questions geared towards goals, such as “What do you want to see in your life?” “What do you dream for yourself? “What kind of housing do you want to one day live in?” Even: “How many house plants do you want to have?”
“We start to try to form a vision that is the participant's vision, so that then they're working towards their goals, not ours,” Phil said. “What we find is when somebody catches a vision for their life, they're much more eager to go after it because it's precious to them. It's theirs to defend, theirs to champion.”
Then comes the hard work of creating a plan, navigating complex social services, and showing up to appointments.
“We give pointers and advice, but we don't do it for them,” Phil said.
One of the key figures in Pat’s journey was his resource manager, Katie. She was persistent, holding Pat accountable and ensuring he attended his appointments and met the goals that would help him move forward.
“I needed that push,” he admits.
The staff’s compassion and understanding, their efforts to build trust and rapport, helped Pat shed some of the emotional barriers he had built over years of hardship.
“You may take a step forward and feel like you’re being pushed back but keep going forward and allow the staff to help you take that next step,” he says, reflecting on the lessons he learned and offering advice for other shelter participants.
Phil, Pat’s first case manager, said he saw Pat transform from someone skeptical of the site and resistant to the rules, fearful he was sacrificing his autonomy, to someone who thrived with the support and kindness of shelter staff, who helped him get a new battery for his truck and even looked after his dogs while he was in the hospital.
The staff’s steady encouragement and Sunderland’s resources helped Pat connect with the Veterans Administration (VA), which assisted him with housing options.
In July, after about a year at Sunderland, Pat moved into a permanent apartment.
For some, it can be especially difficult to transition into housing from an RV or trailer – the only safety net that allowed them to survive when they fell through the cracks.
“When someone finally gets keys to their own space and they get to move into an apartment or a house, what you'll often see is a mixture of excitement and fear,” Phil said. “The fear comes from feeling tied to fixed space with closed-in walls, of not knowing what's required of them to keep that space. It’s sometimes a lack of confidence that they might do something to lose what they've been longing for, for so long. Then, the excitement comes.”
When asked by staff his wishes for the old trailer he called home for five years, Pat quickly said “get rid of it,” allowing it to be towed away and destroyed.
Building a Future Beyond Sunderland
When Pat first stepped into his new apartment, he opened the empty fridge and stood in front of it for a few minutes, recalls Phil, who was there that day helping with the move-in process.
Phil said he and other staff understood in that moment that Pat was realizing the fridge was all his. He can choose what food to put inside, and where it goes.
“It’s that moment of seeing something you'd longed for, for a long time, come to fruition,” Phil said. “It was just a beautiful thing. It’s a bit like seeing a kid go to Disneyland for the first time…a place where hope and dreams exist, but you don't quite believe it until you see it.”
Now, Pat feels like part of a community in his apartment complex. On his birthday, Pat found his door filled with cards from his new community members, a simple gesture that meant the world to him. “People there made me feel welcome,” he says, with pride in his voice.
Reflecting on his time at Sunderland, Pat believes in the program’s mission and advocates for its expansion. For Pat, the security and encouragement he received during his time there were lifesaving.
"If I hadn’t been through Sunderland, I’d probably be dead," he said.
Story shared with permission; based on an interviews which took place in September, 2024.