When I went down to Nickelsville for the story in this week's paper about the camp's impending eviction from its West Seattle site, I brought Kelly O along to take some pictures. People were welcoming and the pictures turned out great, and I wanted to share 'em. There's plenty more after the jump.

Meet John Jolly, who gave me a tour of camp the first time I went. His dogs name is Sadie.
  • Kelly O
  • Meet John Jolly, who gave me a tour of camp the first time I went. His dog's name is Sadie. When I asked him why he lives at Nickelsville, he told me he used to live in Alabama, but "things went bad for [him] there" when the economy crashed. "I lost everything." He moved up here to be near his kids, and got a job but not his own place. After wearing out his welcome sleeping on an ex's couch, he found out about Nickelsville. And, he says, "I found a family 2,500 miles away from home."

This is Rachel Johnson and her cat, Precious. Shes lived at Nickelsville for six weeks. Theyre my family, she says.
  • Kelly O
  • This is Rachel Johnson and her cat, Precious, in front of their tent. She's lived at Nickelsville for six weeks. "They're my family," she says.

Nickelsvilles goats, Richard Conlin and Sally Clark, like to climb on their structure. They were originally gotten just to clear brush. Theyd be up on a berm, eating blackberries, says Jolly. Dont know what were gonna do with the goats. He laughs: I think we should eat em.
  • Kelly O
  • Nickelsville's two goats, Richard Conlin and Sally Clark, love to climb on their shelter. They were originally brought in to clear brush from the land, which is covered in blackberry bushes—"they'd be up on a berm, eating blackberries," says Jolly—but now they're pretty much pets. "They're spoiled rotten," he laughs. He doesn't know what'll happen to the goats when Nickelsville packs up and moves. He laughs again: "I think we should eat 'em."

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  • Kelly O

A sign posted by the city in front of Nickelsvilles gate warns campers of a looming shutdown by city officials
  • Kelly O
  • A sign posted by the city in front of Nickelsville's gate warns campers of a looming shutdown by city officials.

This is Nickelsvilles kitchen and pantry; the shelves are almost bare. Is this less food than usual? Oh, its way down, says Jolly. They used to get so many donations that this was full and they stored overflow in a smaller tent nearby. But since news of the camps shutdown has been public, he says, Everybody thinks after September 1, theres no more Nickelsville.
  • Kelly O
  • This is Nickelsville's kitchen and pantry; the shelves are almost bare. Is this less food than usual? "Oh, it's way down," Jolly says. They used to get so many donations that these shelves were full and overflow was stored in a smaller tent nearby. But since news of the city's intention to shut the camp down, "Everybody thinks after September 1, there's no more Nickelsville," he tells me, so they've stopped getting donations.

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  • Kelly O

Because theyre staying on this city land illegally, Nickelsville hasnt been able to hook up to water or utilities, something theyd love to address in the future.
  • Kelly O
  • Because they're staying on this city land illegally, Nickelsville hasn't been able to hook up to water or utilities, something they'd love to address in the future—and something a city ordinance permitting encampments run by nonprofits instead of only by churches could've helped with.

Says Jolly: This is probably not the answer to homelessness. But its the best weve got right now. He says, only half-joking, Columbus didnt come over here with a bunch of condos. This country was birthed out of a tent city.
  • Kelly O
  • Says Jolly: "This is probably not the answer to homelessness. But it's the best we've got right now." He continues, "Columbus didn't come over here with a bunch of condos. This country was birthed out of a tent city."