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There are two ways to live along Corona del Mar in the Huntington Palisades neighborhood. One is to reside in a multi-million-dollar house, the second is to pitch a tent on the hillside below. Last Friday, while LAPD Senior Lead Officer Michael Moore and a Caltrans crew were doing a clean-up of homeless camps behind the 15-ft. wall along Pacific Coast Highway between Chautauqua and Potrero Canyon, this reporter and a photographer followed a trail up the hill. About halfway between PCH and the backyards of Corona del Mar homes, we found a “town” of six tents in close proximity to each other. This area was left undisturbed by authorities because it was unclear under whose jurisdiction it fell–county, city, Caltrans or private. A woman was piling large dead branches up in front of her “yard.” When asked how she was, she replied, “Great.” She appeared to be in her mid-20s and explained she was clearing the path as well as making a fence around her tent, leaving only a small entrance into the area. “They’re my unwelcome mat,” she said. Her name is Veronica Roberts and she has lived at this location for a year and a half. “I live by myself,” she said. “Well, except for the critters, the opossums, skunks, rats, lizards, squirrels, birds and one snake.” She explained that by making the entrance to her site small, it was less likely that someone coming up the trail at night drunk or on drugs would find her. “There’s some creepy people in this world,” she said. Roberts added that she didn’t drink, that sometimes she would smoke marijuana but that was all. As we spoke, she had a hand-rolled cigarette in her hand, but didn’t light it. “I’m from Northern California,” she said. “I went to Cal State Northridge and I was majoring in journalism, but I’m about a semester away from getting my degree.” Roberts said she worked for AOL in San Diego and had a boyfriend, but they broke up. She lived in her car for a while, but it got towed away. “Stuff happens,” she said. “The homeless don’t have a lot of choices,” said Roberts, who prefers living in her tent to a homeless shelter. She receives checks from Social Services and has voice mail. “I walk to the bus and grocery stores.” Her mom and dad died about four years ago, Roberts said. She has two brothers, but hasn’t talked to them in a while and doesn’t know if they’re looking for her. “I’m trying to get money for tuition for city college and to eat,” she said. “It’s not easy. I read a lot, every free publication I can find.” Roberts is surrounded by five other tents spaced up the hill. Does she get along with the other occupants? “One of the guys is sort of a jerk, but everyone’s a kind of stay-by-themself person.” She added, “If you want to talk to more homeless, go to Sunset and PCH, there’s a lot of people there.” A short distance up the hill from her tent was a second tent. Even though the trail was steep and overgrown with brush, low-hanging branches had been propped up with wood pieces, making the trail easier to climb. Between the second and third tent a wood railing had been constructed along the trail. No one was home in either of those two Coleman tents. Further up the hill, wood pieces had been inserted into the ground which served as steps to help reach the next area, which consisted of three additional Coleman tents with tarps stretched over them. None of the occupants was in their tents. Each “home” site was more elaborate than the last, the sixth one being especially well-established with tarps on the ground under the tent and in front of the tent, like a make-shift patio. The “kitchen” had a table, a burner, pots and pans, a griddle, knife set, oils and spices. On one side of the campsite water trickled down the hill. The occupant of the site had fashioned a water-holding bin, which made a kind of sink for washing. Residents in this “village” appeared to take great pride in not letting garbage accumulate around the site, unlike the area directly behind the wall adjacent to the nursery on the corner of Chautauqua and PCH. That area was filled with bike frames, a Cartier box, a Coleman tent and two plastic chairs, numerous tarps and blankets, and drug paraphernalia such as glass pipes (used for doing rock cocaine and crystal meth) and needles. Caltrans court-appointed community service workers loaded the trash into dump trucks. A Caltrans worker had gone in a few days earlier to leave notices behind the wall that prohibited camping. The worker, who did not wish to be identified, said, “They’ve moved out of their tents, there were a lot more when I put up the notices.” Still, Caltrans filled three trucks with trash. At one of the sites, the ground was scorched where there had been a campfire. Caltrans workers were also in the process of cleaning up another area above the large trash deposits. It was a steep climb from the highway; however, a rope wrapped around a tree branch assisted climbing. At the top of the slope was a small clearing with several plywood planks balanced precariously on branches protruding from the hillside. Stepping out onto the planks revealed a breathtaking view of the ocean and beach, including lifeguard tower 16. Items scattered about the clearing included deodorant, tent stakes, and a discarded copy of the Steve Miller Band CD, “Living in the USA.” Caltrans workers said that they had already cleared out a tent. Workers tossed large bags filled with trash and brush down the hillside to the trucks below. At the end of the wall, on the hillside near Potrero Canyon, is a concrete bunker with several small rooms hidden behind a heavy green blanket that’s used for a door. One of the rooms had been turned into a bedroom. On one wall was a previous citation that Officer Moore had given on June 11, on another a Hustle-type poster. In a second room there was a makeshift table that held chocolate doughnuts as well as several condiments. Although the occupant wasn’t home on Friday, on Sunday he was spotted looking out his “door” as cars drove by on PCH. (Intern Jack Rosner contributed to this article.)