BELLOWS FALLS — In the woods about a mile from the center of town, and at least 45 minutes of walking quickly, sans backpack, to The Square, a young man and woman courageously insist “we like it out here away from people.”
But when faced with the growing reality of living in a tent in the woods this winter, Phae and Jared, a couple in their 30s, accept all offers of help and assistance.
They ask for none.
“I like to help myself,” Phae says matter-of-factly.
Phae and Jared readily admit that each takes care of the other. Phae has lived in Vermont for 10 years, and Jared is from Pennsylvania. They have never spent a winter outdoors.
“He is my friend, not just my partner,” Phae says fiercely, daring anyone to disagree. “He is my mentor, my minion, my slave. He's my everything. He is the world to me.”
Jared is quiet and nods with a grin, “And you are mine.”
Their mutual support appears key to their survival.
Phae, a small woman who speaks clearly and intelligently, says that both she and Jared have chronic medical issues that they are trying to manage - issues that make traditional employment opportunities remote, if not impossible.
Phae's diagnosis includes bipolar, anxiety, and “a touch of OCD.”
Jared, here only because of Phae, is going through the extended process of qualifying in Vermont for Social Security Disability, something he was receiving and qualified for in Pennsylvania. They have no income except for food stamps and the fuel assistance.
“I'm on nine different medications,” he says. “I couldn't afford them without [Vermont Health Access Program]. You wouldn't be standing here talking to me, either, without them. I don't even know what I'd be doing. But I wouldn't be here [talking to you].”
“I'm still working on my medications,” Phae said. “They are still not where I want them to be.”
Her array of medications has side effects she would like to eliminate.
“Today, I've got lots of energy,” she says. “But there are some days I am very tired and just don't want to move.”
So they live in the woods, in a camp that's remote and hidden.
“We're in the process of working to get it winter ready, but it's hard because we have to carry everything in on our backs, and out,” Phae says.
“It would have been nice to have the shelter opened,” she says.
But, while she says that she has to “take one problem at a time, otherwise I get completely overwhelmed,” she is diligently gathering the necessities to keep them warm this winter.
Phae has her eye on a small cast-iron woodstove. “And we got fuel assistance, but we don't have a safe place where the guy can drop the wood, so we can bring it in a piece at a time,” she says.
Even if they stay warm, that doesn't mean that they will stay safe. Deaths from carbon monoxide poisoning among the homeless are common.
But ventilation is good, and both are conscious of that danger, and they leave several flaps unzipped in the outer tent. The inner one can't be zipped tight.
Their self-proclaimed self-reliance could be seen as a defense to fend off the realities of their circumstances. Certainly, the brutal Vermont winter will test them.
Jared described an incident that brightened a recent day for him.
“I was taking a shortcut [into town] and ran across this guy [working there],” he said. “He introduced himself and told me he's the caretaker.”
The caretaker - Jared described him as “a true gentleman, I could tell” - asked if he was living up in the woods.
“I said, yes. He wanted to know if we were planning to winter there, and I told him that was the plan.”
Jared said he was touched when, at the end of the conversation, the man “pulled out a fiver” from his pocket and said, “Here. You could probably use this more than me right now.”
“That may not seem like a lot to a lot of people, but it meant we could buy cat food that day,” Jared said humbly.
'At peace'
Phae and Jared's tent is really two tents: a smaller three-person pop-up tent inside a larger one-room house tent.
A combination of several different tarps covers the tent area and allows for some space around the perimeter for storage and a place to stay out of the rain or snow.
A small fire pit is neatly rigged for cooking. “We have a camp stove, but no money to buy fuel canisters,” Phae says.
Phae wants Villagers to know that within their limited means, they do all their shopping locally.“We bought our first tent locally. We shop at Lisai's. We use the local pharmacy. I think I've been to Walpole [to shop] maybe twice.”
Their combined social issues have complicated finding even temporary housing for the couple.
But in their camp, “no one is bothering me and telling me what to do or who I should be,” Phae says.
“I'm at home in nature,” she says. “I'm at peace.”
Phae has three very healthy cats, one of which is her “assistive care” animal. “I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for that cat.”
At least while the temperatures are still hovering around “only” freezing, and snow holds off, it's more important to her health to hold onto the cat and stay in the tent, than live indoors without it.
She says that people are trying to find temporary shelter for them, “but most temporary shelters won't take cats.”
Phae, an animal lover, has done some serious animal rescues. She insisted on buying two cans of cat food for two malnourished cats she passes each day to and from the Our Place Drop In Center.
“They are really sick and in bad shape,” she says.
Two of her own cats were badly injured when she found them.
“I took them to the vet, got them what they needed, and nursed them back to health.” Obviously, she said, “I was working with a good-paying job.”
Despite the trying circumstances, the cats remain happy and healthy.
'It's a crying shame'
Two older men in neon orange vests emerge from the surrounding woods. When they stop and begin asking questions, Phae's anxiety level rises visibly.
“I didn't know if I'd have to start packing and move right away,” she would say later.
One of the two visitors, John Medieros, introduces himself as the father-in-law of one of the landowners.
At first, Phae and Jared stand across from them along the small stream they use for drinking water, but Phae eventually loosens up and invites the two men up to their campsite, having forged a mutual respect.
Phae and Jared openly answer questions - questions most people would find personal and private.
“It was clear there had to be a reason they were here,” one of the men would say after the conversation.
Phae and Jared described their documented mental health issues, and their work history, which as recently as last summer included a stint at a Westminster slaughterhouse.
“I didn't mind the work,” Phae said. “I got Jared a job there, too.”
But Jared does not deal with social situations well and broke down while at work. Phae left with him, citing a disagreement with management over practices there that Jared's very public breakdown seemed to exacerbate.
“People like us just don't fit into the normal job situation. It's not that we don't want to work. We work hard [at just doing what it takes to survive],” Phae says.
Questioned by the two visitors to their camp, they both readily volunteered to work, and Jared said he would be interested in some part-time outdoor farm work one of the men offered.
“I'd love to try that,” he says.
Phae describes their efforts and time clearing brush that had been cut and left, earlier this summer, by utility crews. They keep up the trail as they walk in and out of camp.
“It's a crying shame. There should be no one 'houseless' in America today. There's no reason for it,” Medeiros says.
“It's a complicated situation,” he says. “We don't want to make more problems for these two, but legally, there could be a problem.”
Before leaving, he reassured Phae, when he learned of. “That makes a huge difference. We could actually use you as sort of monitors [of the trails]. It would ease our minds considerably to know someone is out here keeping an eye on things.”
But Phae and Jared still need to meet the landowners, and in spite of assurances that Medeiros would put in a good word with his daughter and son-in-law, they fear the chances of their being able to stay through the winter are slim.
Having packed everything in the mile or so to the camp, they brace themselves for the scenario of having to pack it back out again.
“That will take days without help,” Phae said.
Maintaining their dignity and receiving others' respect are high on the list of priorities for Phae and Jared, even in what others would term desperate circumstances. Phae and Jared can sense both.
Phae gives varied responses to advocates who urge them to spend the winter indoors.
She is not averse to doing so.
“I just don't want my cats to go to foster homes while I stay indoors,” she says. “I would rather have them with me and know they are well taken care of.”
A long life
The camp is “home” to Phae and Jared for the foreseeable future. Or not.
Meanwhile, the couple continues to scrounge for useful items at the Rockingham recycling center.
They are sleeping on the ground, though Jared said they have a pad and sleeping bag underneath them, and another sleeping bag atop them. Phae is talking about “whip stitching” the bags together for better warmth.
“The only concern I have about these two after talking to them is their safety when it gets really cold,” Medeiros said.
“I can't stand anyone telling me what to do, who I should be, or how I should live,” Phae says.
“Me neither,” Jared replies.
“I've heard freezing to death is a peaceful way to go,” Jared exclaims in a rare display of morbid humor. “You just go to sleep and never wake up.”
Phae pipes up, singing.
“I want to live,” she says. “I want to live a long life where lots of things happen.”
“Me too,” Jared said. “I don't want to die.”