EDITOR’S NOTE: CollingwoodToday made an editorial decision to not disclose the exact location of any of the homeless encampments in Collingwood to protect the privacy and safety of those living there. Some details within stories have also been left deliberately vague to protect the privacy of the story subjects and their families.
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It’s difficult to pin down exactly how many people are living in homeless encampments across Collingwood this summer.
Some are living alone, others in groups known as tent cities or towns on the outskirts of Collingwood.
Of the four subjects who agreed to speak with CollingwoodToday about their experiences living rough, three are living in a group encampment setting while one chooses to camp alone.
These are their stories.
Dave
Dave Fish, 65, prefers to be called 'houseless', rather than homeless.
“It’s just my finicky way. It’s never been (about) a stigma. I’ve never played the pity card. I know plenty that do,” Fish told CollingwoodToday at a coffee shop patio in Collingwood’s downtown.
Fish says he spends most days trekking through Collingwood’s downtown. After his mother recently passed away and left him a small inheritance, he says he used the windfall to buy himself a bicycle and trailer to carry all his worldly belongings, and spent $30 on a Town of Collingwood buskers licence to try to earn some money playing guitar.
Lately, he’s been setting up camp nightly at one of Collingwood’s waterfront parks. Every morning, he gets up early to break down camp, then makes the trip into town to the Project Butterfly food pantry at the Collingwood Youth Centre for breakfast.
He spends the morning at the Collingwood Public Library to read the newspapers and new magazines. He’ll wash up in local public bathrooms, and will put in a single contact lens, the only one he has, although he says it’s still difficult to read without proper glasses.
He grabs lunch from the library’s food pantry program, before proceeding downtown to busk, or play piano, or meet up with friends he’s made over the nearly four years he’s spent living on-and-off homeless in Collingwood.
“When I play (music), it’s almost spiritual,” says Fish.
Fish was born and raised in Collingwood and is one of five siblings, including his twin brother Dennis.
He says all the men in his family have experienced some kind of depression at one point or another. For Dave, he first remembers dealing with serious depression at 22, although he was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder which he says has made it difficult for him over the years to hold down a regular job.
“I had just bought a house in Thornbury, and I started to feel a little down in the dumps and spending more time in bed. I knew my father was doing that too,” says Fish. “I would find myself sitting in doorways crying. I would be curled up in the fetal position for days at a time.”
Fish says when he takes his medication, that works for him and he’s able to function, but when experiencing homelessness off and on over the past four years, sometimes medications aren’t readily available.
He says he’s slept in all the major parks in Collingwood at one point or another. He was sleeping in a structure behind a local retailer with their permission for 15 weeks, although it was an unofficial arrangement as it isn’t permitted under the town’s bylaws.
He says the kindness of strangers has taken him aback in Collingwood. There have been multiple occasions where near strangers have offered him money or free lodgings for finite periods of time.
“People have given me free food. I’ve couch surfed. I have siblings... but they have homes and families. They don’t want to hear me snore,” he says.
The first time Fish found himself homeless, he says he made friends with another homeless man. This was when he first recalls being taught tricks that have helped keep him fed and sheltered over the years.
“Don’t be afraid to go into a garbage can. There’s good food in there. I would still do that if there weren’t such good offerings through the churches, the library and the pantries here,” says Fish.
“I once went eight full days without food, only water, because I was too proud. My friend reached into a trash can and found a bag of roast beef, potatoes and carrots and we ate like kings.”
Fish says, out of desperation, he also used to fake heart attacks to get admitted to the hospital.
“I was desperate. I was cold. I was hungry. I needed warmth,” says Fish. “They’d swaddle me in cotton sheets and they’d bring me sandwiches and cups of tea. One nurse held my hand and said, ‘It will get better.’”
Fish says he has frequented shelter systems across Simcoe County including the David Busby Centre in Barrie and Out of the Cold Collingwood, however, he doesn’t stay long because he finds he prefers to be alone.
“I can’t co-habitate with other human beings. I just can’t,” says Fish. “I can’t be in a room with another person. I snore. They snore. I create flatulence. They create flatulence.
“I’m out in my tent, and I’m fine.”
There have been times when he has felt unsafe in shelter settings. He says on one occasion, while staying at an emergency shelter in Barrie about four years ago, he was held up at knife point while walking between the shelter and the Barrie Public Library to check out a musical instrument.
“A young man walked out and said, ‘Hey! I need $10.’ I said I had a dime and he kicked it out of my hand. When I went to pick it up he took out a switchblade and put it to my throat. I could feel blood trickling down my neck,” said Fish. “I told him I had money in the bank and when he put down the knife I gave him a shove.”
“The shelter staff offered to call the Barrie Police for me. I said no. I gave him two $10 bills,” he said.
Fish carries a knife for protection now.
Fish says he most recently found an apartment in Wasaga Beach that was perfect for his income from the Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP).
However, he hit a snag when he applied for Old Age Security after turning 65.
“I was thinking I could do that and keep on my ODSP until things evened out. I was wrong. So now, instead of receiving $1,170 per month, now I get $875. My rent was $900,” he says.
He lost his apartment on April 3 and has been homeless ever since.
“I need to find housing," he says.
Kyle
Kyle Hughson woke up one morning last week with a raccoon in his tent.
Hughson has been living in a tent city in Collingwood for a few months. He estimates about 10 people live in his particular encampment. He says he’s not sure how many people are living in other Collingwood encampments, but he’s heard there are many.
“I can’t afford to live in Collingwood. The rent prices are outrageous,” says Hughson. “Something needs to happen about it. People are getting kicked out and (landlords) are saying they have family members moving in, but really they just want to jack the rent up like double.”
Hughson says he found himself in an untenable living situation with a volatile roommate, which is what led to him moving to the encampment. He said he isn’t interested in using the Busby Centre – South Georgian Bay emergency shelter at a local motel, as he’s had bad experiences at motels.
Hughson says he does odd jobs to keep himself afloat.
“It’s never enough. This is the worst things have been for me. This is the first time things have been this bad,” he says.
When Hughson looks back, he recalls things were last going well for him a few years ago. He says he was born in Collingwood and although he did leave for a short time for stints in B.C. and Calgary, he has mostly stayed in town throughout his life.
“A couple of years ago, me and my girlfriend had our own apartment. I had charges and had to go to jail. She couldn’t afford it on her own,” says Hughson. “It wasn’t so bad when I had parents that were alive, because I always had something to fall back on. Now, my parents are dead. I don’t have that support to fall back on.”
Hughson says he uses all the local food banks as much as he can. His girlfriend currently lives with female roommates, however she will wash his clothes when he needs it. He says he can’t stay with his girlfriend because of Children’s Aid Society concerns about his criminal record.
“Everywhere you go, they want your criminal record check," he says, referring to jobs and apartment applications. "So I just lie."
When it comes to his own safety, Hughson says he feels safer living with a group.
“I like it. I’d feel too alone (otherwise). I don’t do well on my own. I need people around me,” he says. “We cook and eat together. Most of us go off throughout the day and do our own thing. I just wait for my girlfriend to get off work. She’s been my sole supporter since I’ve been out here, other than welfare.
“It’s going to be getting cold soon.”
Hughson says people use propane heaters to warm tents in the winter. He points to a tent nearby.
“That guy’s been here the longest. He’s been here since last spring, and stayed here all last winter,” he said.
When he looks at the homelessness situation in Collingwood and how it could be improved, Hughson says he feels town priorities need to be adjusted.
“There could be more (services). Maybe instead of building a waterpark/splashpad behind McDonald’s, they could erect a little building for people who don’t have homes. But that’s Collingwood. It’s a tourist town to attract the tourists and do everything they can to push us further and further away,” he said.
When he looks at his future, Hughson has humble dreams.
“I’d love a one-bedroom apartment. I’d love a bachelor apartment. Just something with a shower and heat and somewhere I can do laundry,” he said. “(For work), I like house painting.”
Amanda
Amanda (she asked her last name not be used) was evicted from an apartment on Second Street in July, and now lives in a west-end encampment.
“I got kicked out. It was for nothing I did. It was something my guests did. I’ve been homeless since then,” she says. “One of my friends made this (encampment).”
She says she isn’t currently allowed to use the Busby Centre – South Georgian Bay shelter since she says the father of her child created a disturbance at the site.
“It’s not an option for me,” she said.
She said she’s bounced around some other places before living on Second Street. Amanda is currently on ODSP, however she says rents are so high that you still need two or three people living together to be able to afford rent anywhere.
She said she is currently the only person living in a deeper-woods part of an encampment, away from the other tents.
“It can be creepy at night,” she says.
In order to survive, Amanda says she attends community dinners and uses all the food banks and pantries in town. She says while the food services in Collingwood are good, assistance for housing supports is lacking.
“I need help with housing. I don’t want to be here,” she says, noting she doesn’t yet have a plan for when the weather turns.
“I’m just taking it day by day,” she says. “I haven’t been in a situation like this since I was 19 or 20. I’m 33 now. This isn’t even my town. I’m not from here. My baby daddy is from here. That’s why I’m here.”
Amanda says she believes people carry many misconceptions about someone who is experiencing homelessness.
“It’s not because we choose to be homeless, or we did something wrong,” she said.
Justin
Justin (he declined to provide his last name), 42, has three daughters. One is getting married soon, while the other two live with Justin’s mother in Wasaga Beach. He says it’s difficult for him to not be with them.
“It kills me. I was with my girls everyday. I never missed a holiday, or a birthday, anything. Those girls were my life,” he says.
Justin is in the middle of his second stint living in the west-end encampment, and has been there since May. He had previously spent some time in the encampment in 2021 from May until November.
He was born in Collingwood and proudly says he’s third-generation. He has spent most of his life living in town.
“I had called the Out of the Cold program (now Busby Centre-South Georgian Bay) and they had put me up for about three months. Some new employees came in and they didn’t take a liking to some of us. They kicked me out in February,” he said.
Justin says it was still too cold to camp at that time, so he spent time bouncing around accommodations he refers to as “less than honourable” until the weather warmed enough to camp.
“I’ve never missed rent once, ever. Everyone’s selling their houses now and they’re being bought by people from the cities. This town is a hospitality industry town. We don’t have city jobs that pay city wages. You’re lucky to get a dollar or two above minimum wage,” he says.
Justin says the last house he was living in was sold to a buyer from Toronto, who was also planning to rent out the units.
“(The landlord) immediately kicked all three apartment renters out,” he said. “The rent (for our apartments) went up from $1,000 a month each to $1,800 a month. The new landlord didn’t even entertain the thought of renting to the old tenants, some of whom had lived there for 10 years.”
The most useful service Justin says he uses in Collingwood is the Ontario Addiction Treatment Centre on First Street.
“They go above and beyond their pay grade. They deserve more. They truly care and they look at each individual like a person,” he said.
Justin is currently on methadone as he struggles with an addiction that began when he was on prescription painkillers for a back injury.
“I was working (in construction), and I fell three storeys. I broke two vertebrae in my back and my right ankle. That was it for my construction days,” he said. “I tried going back to school but it was just too hard to raise a family.”
After his work injury, Justin was put on a pharmaceutical prescription while he healed. Once it ran out, he found himself addicted.
“I beat it three times, twice with the help of methadone. It’s impossible. Everywhere you turn, drugs are all you see,” he says. “When you’re broke all the time and homeless, you get to know the less-favourable people in town, the transients. Addiction comes with that, unfortunately.”
“No matter how hard you may try, when your daily lives are consumed by it, it doesn’t give you high hopes of being able to prosper or stay on the straight and narrow,” says Justin.
Justin said he’s worked most of his life and has paid rent all of his life, but after his injury he went on social assistance as he couldn’t work. About 10 years ago he says many people who were on social assistance were moved onto ODSP.
“At first, I didn’t understand why but now, I think I’m starting to see it. If you’re on ODSP and you go back to work, any money you make, they want it paid back in full,” he says.
“It’s so hard for me to pick myself up because depression and anxiety is everywhere you turn. I have to worry about the weather, getting beat up, lied to, taken advantage of or robbed out here. I can’t spend my days handing out resumes.”
Also, there are barriers to applying for jobs when you don’t have a home.
“When you don’t have an address or a phone number, what are you going to tell an employer?” he asks.
Day-to-day, Justin takes on a leadership role in his encampment.
“I make sure we have enough food and water, and I make sure enough wood is collected (for a campfire) before the sun goes down,” he says. “My main priority is to try not to get heat stroke.
“It’s survival. I wake up everyday worried about food and drink. I worry about the cold months coming,” he says. “You always hear that noise in the background when you’re making plans, and that’s God laughing at you.”
Justin says that while the Collingwood OPP do attend the encampment from time to time to do outreach, they have never threatened eviction or tried to break up the camps.
“They come out to do wellness checks. When I see them in town, they don’t shake me down. There’s one who will just say, 'hi.' He knows I’m into sports and he’ll talk to me about baseball,” says Justin.
“The cops nowadays are a lot more friendly than when I was in my youth. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older.”
Justin notes the number of encampments in Collingwood has increased year over year, but especially since 2020 when the pandemic started.
“They’re everywhere, on the outskirts of town. I knew they would because everyone was getting those CERB (Canada Emergency Response Benefit) cheques so landlords don’t have to rent out to anybody. Do you know how many empty apartments there are in this town? It’s disgusting,” he said.
When looking at the homelessness situation overall in Collingwood, he says he has little hope things will change until there is a major shift in the mindset of decision makers.
“This town doesn’t care about its locals. This town doesn’t care about the people who helped build it, or who cook everybody’s meals or make everybody’s beds,” says Justin. “They care about bringing new money in. If you don’t come from money or have money, this town doesn’t give a shit about you.
“This town was founded on the railway and the shipyards, and what did they do? Tore them down and put up condos,” he adds.
“The town, at least, needs to acknowledge that there’s a huge problem,” says Justin. “People don’t want to know about it, because it will scare tourists and city money away.”
When looking forward, Justin is wary of making concrete plans, but hopes to be in a position to support his family.
“I didn’t choose to be in this situation. This is the last place I thought I’d be at my age. I had hopes and dreams and aspirations,” he says.
When he talks about his future dreams, Justin says his main goal is to be able to take care of the people he loves, especially his daughters.
“I’d like to be able to support and provide for them like any father would want to,” he said. “My kids mean everything to me.”
If you would like to help, food and hygiene product donations are accepted at the Project Butterfly pantry at the Collingwood Youth Centre, the Collingwood Public Library’s food pantry program, the Salvation Army Collingwood and the Society of St. Vincent DePaul (Collingwood).
Collingwood currently has three non-profit organizations that provide emergency or transitional housing for people experiencing homelessness, or those at risk for homelessness, and appreciate financial or in-kind donations to support their programs. They are Busby Centre-South Georgian Bay (emergency shelter and outreach), My Friend’s House (women and children’s emergency shelter) and Home Horizon (youth transitional house, outreach and programs for youth at-risk for homelessness).
