The Paradise That Forgot Its People: Parksville’s Hidden Winter Nightmare…
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The Paradise That Forgot Its People: Parksville’s Hidden Winter Nightmare…

  • Admin
  • 1 day ago
  • 4 min read

Golden sandy beaches stretching for miles under a mild Vancouver Island sun. Rathtrevor Beach Provincial Park alive with families building sandcastles in summer, eagles soaring overhead, and the distant call of waves crashing against the shore. Parksville, British Columbia – population just over 13,000 – is routinely ranked among Canada’s most beautiful small cities. Retirees flock here for the quiet charm, the world-famous sandcastle competitions, the pristine parks, and the promise of a peaceful coastal life. It’s the kind of place where real estate ads boast “paradise found.”


But as Christmas lights begin twinkling on storefronts along Highway 19A this December, and families gather for turkey dinners and carols at the Parksville Community Centre, a growing shadow darkens this postcard-perfect scene. Just beyond the manicured lawns and oceanfront condos, hundreds of our neighbours – yes, our neighbours – are fighting for survival in the cold, wet Island winter. And in Parksville there is no extreme shelter or no emergency shelter. No warming centre open every night. No extreme weather refuge when the rain turns to ice and the wind howls off the Strait of Georgia. Not one.


This isn’t hyperbole. As of this winter 2025-2026, The municipality hasn’t approved or funded an overnight shelter, despite provincial offers from BC Housing to cover the costs. During recent cold snaps, the city has extended hours at public buildings for daytime warming and handed out a few hundred self-heating meals – gestures that are kind, but woefully inadequate when temperatures drop below freezing at night. Limited extreme-weather pop-up spaces at local churches have seen pitifully low turnout, often because people living rough are too frightened, too proud, or too far gone to seek them out.


The result? A homelessness crisis that is exploding quietly in one of Canada’s most affluent retirement havens. Point-in-time counts – which everyone agrees undercount the true scale – showed 103 people unhoused in the Oceanside region in 2023, up from 87 just two years earlier. Advocates say the real number is far higher now, swollen by skyrocketing rents (vacancy rates hovering near zero), job losses in tourism and service industries, mental health struggles exacerbated by the pandemic, and an influx of seniors whose fixed incomes no longer cover Island living costs.

How do people end up here, in a cul-de-sac of despair in Canada’s “happiest retirement community”?


Meet “John” (name changed), a 68-year-old former construction worker who moved to Parksville five years ago dreaming of beachside retirement. A fixed pension that seemed ample in the Interior suddenly vanished into $2,000+ monthly rents. Evicted after falling behind, he now sleeps in his rusted 1998 van parked in supermarket lots, moving every few hours to avoid bylaws. “I worked my whole life,” he told a local advocate. “Now I’m invisible.”


Or “Sarah,” a single mother in her 40s who lost her waitressing job when tourism dipped. With no family support and waitlists for subsidized housing stretching years, she and her teenage son pitched a tent in a wooded areas near Rathtrevor – until bylaws forced them out. Now they bounce between couches and her car, the boy missing school because there’s nowhere safe to store their belongings.


And then there are the extremes no one wants to believe happen in Parksville: People burrowing into storm-water culverts under highways for shelter from the rain. Huddling in dumpsters behind strip malls for a sliver of warmth from rotting garbage. Makeshift tents in community parks, soaked through after weeks of Island downpours, leading to trench foot, hypothermia, and worse. Hospitals report repeated admissions for exposure-related illnesses – one man in his 50s spent 10 days in care last year after frostbite set in. Mental health crises spike as isolation deepens; overdoses from fentanyl-laced street drugs claim lives that might have been saved with stable housing and support.


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This is the devastation when a community turns away. Loneliness gnaws deeper than the cold – no holiday lights to cheer you, no family dinner, just the sound of festive music drifting from homes you’ll never enter. Spiritual brokenness follows: “Where is God in this?” one unhoused woman asked a church outreach worker, tears freezing on her cheeks. Health crumbles – untreated infections, worsening addiction, suicide attempts. And society pays the hidden bill: ambulance calls, hospital beds, police time, all far costlier than prevention.


Parksville’s city council has long pointed to supportive housing like Orca Place (52 units opened in 2019) as proof they’re “doing something.” But supportive housing is for those lucky enough to qualify and wait years – not for the acute crisis on our streets. When provincial funding for shelters is repeatedly offered, local leaders demur, citing “community concerns,” zoning issues, or past “chaos” from limited trials. In 2025, council even voted against reinstating a liaison to the Oceanside Task Force on Homelessness after reported tensions. Critics call it NIMBYism dressed as prudence: Protect property values and tourism brochures at all costs, even human ones.


Christmas is supposed to be the season of joy, generosity, and “goodwill toward all.” In Parksville, it’s becoming the cruelest reminder of exclusion. While children unwrap gifts under twinkling trees, our unhoused neighbours unwrap another night of terror – wondering if this rain-soaked, freezing darkness will be their last.


This story is unbelievable. But it’s true. And it doesn’t have to be.


It’s time for Parksville to live up to its beauty – not just the beaches, but the heart we’re capable of. Demand action from council. Support groups like Manna Homeless Society and the Oceanside Task Force. Volunteer, donate, speak up.


Because in a city this blessed, no one should die alone in a culvert.


If you or someone you know needs help: contact Manna Homeless Society. For immediate crisis, call 9-8-8.


Paradise is only paradise when it includes everyone.


Clothing donations can be made at the Manna Storage Building, located across the parking lot from the Wildlife Recovery Centre at 1240 Leffler Road in Errington. We have very limited storage space so please call (or text) Robin at 250.248.0845 first regarding any items that you wish to donate.


Monetary donations can be made by e-transfer to:


Or cheques can be sent to:

Manna Homeless Society

P.O. Box 389

Errington BC VOR 1VO

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