ONTARIO – The woman in flip-flops stood outside in the 16-degree morning weather, patiently answering questions about being homeless.
She pulled her coat tight around her, warding off the cold on Thursday, Jan. 30, at an encampment south of downtown Ontario.
She shared her name. She told how long she had been without a real home.
The woman was among scores sought out by humanitarian workers for the annual point-in-time count.
She walked away with a bag of basic supplies – a bottle of water, snacks, and a kit including a tooth brush and soap.
Teams focused on places around Ontario known to be home to the homeless. But they went to other areas of Malheur County, producing the most complete record they could of those going homeless.
The formal tally won’t be available for a few days but those involved sensed the numbers in Malheur County are climbing.
In 2022, an estimated 141 people were living without a home. That climbed to 295 in 2023 and an estimated 359 in 2024.
The survey helps government and nonprofit agencies assess the needs on the streets, in the riverbank camps and in dilapidated RVs no longer running. The numbers are key to allocating budgets – and informing practices to ease homelessness.
The count in Malheur County this year was orchestrated by Community in Action, an Ontario nonprofit.
Volunteers and workers gathered that morning in the old aquatic center in Ontario for a briefing, formed into teams and got to work.
One stop in the morning was at the encampment on city land south of downtown Ontario.
Beyond a dirt levee, some tents stood alone on bare dirt. Other tents, an aging camper rig, and wood shacks were clustered into small compounds.
Miguel Pena approached a man who appeared to be in his 50s, out walking his dog.
Pena is a volunteer and knows the homeless life. He said he got help to get off the streets and now has his own landscaping business in Ontario.
He coaxed the man to answer the survey questions. Later, the man got a new tarp – one of the offerings provided by the surveyors.
Two more surveyors approached a woman huddled outside her tent. She was trying to keep warm over a fire in an upturned piece of pipe, a grate on top, contents boiling in a soup can. She spoke softly, politely, answering the questions. She gratefully accepted a new poncho before the surveyors moved on.
One woman taking part in the survey later explained to a reporter that she had been homeless, living in the camp for more than a year. She initially resisted being photographed at her tent because of the garbage and debris scattered around.
A man accepted the bag of supplies as he bantered with surveyors.
As he walked away, he turned and told the team, “God bless you guys.”
The survey teams estimated maybe 60 people live in the camp. They assumed some were still sleeping, warding off the cold, so they’d return later in the day.
Others likely had already headed to town. There is no water at the encampment, so homeless pack jugs and other containers to fill in town. Others likely were gone for appointments with social service agencies or to use their food stamps – or catch a shower at a local shelter.
Two Ontario Police Department officers stayed out of sight, ready to help if trouble developed. The officers, Jared Cutler and Gabe Galicia, were working their day off specifically to help with the homeless count. Cutler, the veteran of the two, knows many on the streets by name. He estimates Ontario may have up to 600 homeless now.
The officers flagged surveyors leaving the city encampment, leading them to a nearby private property now packed with RVs no longer running.
One motor home held three people. Only one stepped outside to answer questions, explaining he survives on disability payments. Another camper held perhaps four people and no one was ready to talk.
No one answered the knock at others.
Cutler guessed they were either sleeping or were out “canning” – picking up discarded soda cans to be redeemed for the deposit. That reminded surveyors that Ontario’s bottle drop on the east side of town might be a good place to find unhoused people to survey.

Pena and Denise Baker, a Community in Action employee, said people who agree to the survey do answer most questions. They often shy away from responding to questions about drug use. Women also avoid questions about experiences with domestic violence.
In late morning, teams headed to an area called The Flats, an encampment of one broken-down RV next to another on lots in northwest Ontario. Officials have been working to shut down the camp, clearing several RVs out last year.
But surveyors found plenty of people to talk to.
Amador Perez and Tyler Tomaz know most of them.
They are with Eastern Oregon Center for Independent Living.
Every Wednesday, they drive to the site in a medic van converted to a mobile clinic. They serve up soup and sandwiches. They offer on-the-spot testing.
On count day, they joined other surveyors in picking their way among the RVs and stacks of debris to reach the homeless individuals.
A woman perhaps in her 30s with tattoos on her neck and a cigarette in her hand answered the survey questions. She appeared shy, speaking quietly.
She was sharing her name and readying for a photograph by a reporter when a man stepped in and announced, “She doesn’t want her name in the paper.”
The woman looked at the ground.
The command post for the count was Community in Action’s Ontario office.
Homeless individuals had been told there would be a free meal of tacos – and more.
Workers served up free coffee.
Others encouraged people to help themselves to clothing in an outdoor shop with shirts and sweaters on hangers on the racks, socks and smaller items sorted into boxes.
One man found tennis shoes that fit.
Approached about his name, the man stood up straight, provided his name and then added in a clear voice: “Lieutenant, United States Marine Corps.”
A woman clutching a sweater said she’d lived in Ontario for 17 years and said she lives “nowhere” now. She appreciated the event.
“It’s very helpful,” she said. “The people are pretty friendly.”





















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