Cold Streets, Warmer Hearts: Peterborough’s Homeless Crisis Hits a Breaking Point

It’s late October in Peterborough, and the cold’s already got teeth. You can feel it coming off the river, crawling down George Street, cutting through the canvas of the tent encampments that have become part of the city’s landscape. Every gust carries a question City Hall doesn’t seem to have a solid answer for: how does a city this small end up with a homelessness crisis this big?

According to the latest Point-in-Time count by the United Way, 343 people in Peterborough are experiencing homelessness. Roughly 80 percent of them have been without housing for six months or more. City data puts the real number closer to 600 people cycling in and out of homelessness during the year. That’s about 1.5 percent of the population — well above the national average for a city this size.

It’s not hard to see why. The vacancy rate sits at about 1 percent, according to the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation — basically zero. The average rent for a one-bedroom apartment is $1,325 a month, up more than 6 percent from last year. The United Way says you’d need to earn $53,000 a year just to afford that. The median income here is $42,000. You don’t need an economist to see where that ends.

If you’re wondering why more people can’t just “get a job,” it’s because the job market has been staggering like a drunk on black ice. Recent figures show the unemployment rate in Peterborough hits around 11.2 percent, well above the provincial average. Service jobs dominate, manufacturing’s a shadow of what it once was, and full-time work with benefits is something people reminisce about, not apply for. According to the local Workforce Development Board, more than 40 percent of working residents earn less than $20 an hour. That means even those working full time are living close to the edge — one rent hike, one broken car, one missed paycheque away from joining the ranks of the unhoused. These aren’t people who “fell through the cracks.” The cracks got wider.

City Hall says it’s trying. Officials talk about “Housing First” strategies and modular communities. They’ve added shelter beds, opened warming spaces, and worked with outreach programs to get people housed. It all sounds good on paper, but the reality is still playing out in the parks and parking lots. Shelters are packed, overflow mats fill up by sundown, and outreach workers are burning out on caffeine and compassion fatigue.

The heavy lifting often falls on the nonprofits. Food Not Bombs Peterborough feeds people with donated groceries and stubborn optimism. One Roof, Brock Mission, and YES Shelter for Youth and Families keep doors open longer, even as demand triples. They’re doing the work, but without enough funding, they’re holding back a flood with a shovel.

At the provincial level, there’s talk of ambitious housing targets — thousands of units to be built by 2031 — but not many of those are showing up in Peterborough. Developers chase profits, not subsidies, and “affordable housing” remains a term as slippery as black ice in February. The province says cities like Peterborough need to “build faster.” The city says it needs money. Nobody says what happens to the people freezing tonight.

Peterborough’s not alone in this mess. Cities like Barrie, Belleville, and North Bay are dealing with the same math: rising rents, low vacancies, a shrinking number of low-cost apartments, and a growing number of people waiting for help. But in a city this size, it hits closer to home. You can’t walk two blocks downtown without seeing it. You can’t pretend it’s somewhere else.

So as October leans closer to November, the debate at City Hall will roll on — about zoning, funding, and provincial quotas. Meanwhile, the rest of the city will keep stepping over sleeping bags on the sidewalk, trying not to look down. Because the truth is — everyone knows it’s cold out there. And the colder it gets, the harder it is to believe that anyone’s really warm inside.