The nine homeless men living inside a concrete storm drain in Orange County believe they are ready for the floods likely to come raging through if El Niño brings the deluges forecasted to arrive about a month from now.
“I ain’t afraid of El Niño — I think I can whip it!” said Bill “Tattoo” LeBlanc, 74, who has lived in the tunnel for 20 years.
LeBlanc and his homeless friends are among hundreds of people living in or near storm channels across Southern California who believe they can handle whatever nature throws at them this winter.
To avert fatalities, authorities from myriad public agencies are trying to persuade river people to seek safer places to live. If those efforts fail, authorities say, they will try to forcibly remove them if flooding is imminent.
The storm drain in Orange County is a case in point. It is less than half a mile from Angel Stadium of Anaheim and it empties onto a Santa Ana River bank under an overpass on the 5 Freeway.
LeBlanc and his companions use flashlights and candles to see in the darkness and sleep on plywood boards perched about four feet above algae-covered water, which quickly transforms into a debris flow during heavy rains.
If it floods in there, all you got to do is lay on your back and float out the tunnel feet first so you don’t hit your head on a concrete wall.
“If it floods in there, all you got to do is lay on your back and float out the tunnel feet first so you don’t hit your head on a concrete wall,” LeBlanc said recently. “Also, keep your eyes shut tight because the water is really nasty. I’ve had to do that twice,” he said with a laugh.
A dozen homeless men and women in a nearby encampment in the river bed recently dug water diversion trenches in the sand around their tents to prepare for the rains.
“The water is our No. 1 enemy, so these trenches will buy us a little time in a flood,” said Ari Palomo, 51.
The trenches are about 18 inches deep — and will do nothing if water fills the channel, which is more than three times as tall as Palomo.
“We’re also thinking about attaching large empty water containers to our tents so that they’ll float,” Palomo said.
That kind of talk frustrates social service specialists and emergency response officials as the prospect of El Niño-fueled storms looms over the Los Angeles, San Gabriel and Santa Ana rivers and their drainages.
Warning signs are posted in the Santa Ana River channel under the Chapman Avenue overpass in Orange; dozens of homeless camp in the area.(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Dozens of homeless people have been living in an encampment in the Santa Ana River channel under the Chapman Avenue overpass, a mile south of Angel Stadium of Anaheim.(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Margarita Zazuetta, a mother of three kids who are living with their grandparents, shows off the encampment she decorated under the 5 Freeway overpass in the Santa Ana riverbed in Orange. Zazuetta has been homeless for about a year, she says.(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
David Doan, 46, who has been homeless on and off since 2000, near his encampment in Orange.(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Recently constructed water diversion ditches to handle the initial flows of torrential rains are visible in a homeless encampment in Orange.(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Bill “Tattoo” LeBlanc, 74, fixes a bicycle inner tube near his homeless encampment in Orange.(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Bernadette Fierro, 45, right, and boyfriend David Quinones, 40, stand near the entrance to their dwelling in the reeds of the Los Angeles River in Los Angeles. She has lived in the Elysian Valley river bottom for nearly four years.(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Bernadette Fierro, 45, climbs in a tree where she has built a ladder to escape the flash flooding El Niño is predicted to bring.(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Rangers Fernando Gomez, right, and David Aceves search the Los Angeles River bottom for homeless encampments in Los Angeles.(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Ranger David Aceves searches the Los Angeles River bottom for homeless encampments.(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
The Los Angeles River in the Elysian Valley, where six homeless people live nearby.(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Keeping the homeless out of rivers, creeks and flood control channels is all but impossible because they are guarded only by chain-link fences, guardrails and occasional security patrols.
Law enforcement effectiveness in the watershed has always been muddled by a confusing overlap of jurisdictions among city, county, state and federal agencies, including the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.
Signs have been posted warning people to keep out of rivers and flood-control channels during the storm season that began in October and ends in March. River dwellers use those signs as grips to pull themselves up onto makeshift beds in the trash-strewn alcoves of bridges and overpasses.
In Los Angeles County, a task force is addressing the risks facing homeless encampments along 172 miles of waterways deemed especially vulnerable to flooding: the San Gabriel and Los Angeles rivers, the Rio Hondo, Big Tujunga Wash and the Arroyo Seco.
A recent aerial survey of those areas counted roughly 500 individuals living in them, said L.A. County Sheriff’s Capt. Jeffrey Perry. The actual number may be far higher because many encampments are hidden by vegetation and bridges, and used by highly transient populations, he said.
Bernadette Fierro, 45, and David Quinones, 40, who have spent nearly four years in a Los Angeles River camp camouflaged by dense groves of arundo, are determined to stay put.
On Sept. 15, Quinones and his pit bull were pulled to safety by swift-water rescue teams after record-breaking rainfall transformed the usually placid stretch just north of downtown into a raging torrent filled with flotsam, boulders and uprooted trees.
Since then, the couple have nailed boards and sticks onto the trunk of a cottonwood tree to make a ladder and “hand rails” roughly six feet above the river bottom.
“If we get flooded we’ll run to this tree as fast as we can, then climb up the ladder, grab hold of the hand rails and wait it out,” Fierro said.
Gomez, who has helped haul 15 people out of the Los Angeles River over the past 10 years, nodded toward the makeshift ladder.
“Interesting,” he said. “But here’s our plan. Even before it rains, we’re going to send people out here to say, ‘Hey folks, it’s time to move out of the river bed.’ ”
“And by the way,” he added, hastily taking out a notebook and pen, “just in case, what are your names and cellphone numbers?”