Outreach workers returned to two sprawling homeless encampments around the H-1 airport viaduct and vowed to come back every Friday to try to make a dent in a hardened population of about 200 adults — some couples — who have been living in the area for years.

Curtis McLean, an outreach specialist with the Institute for Human Services, and his boss, Justin Phillips, IHS’ outreach field manager, walked around rusted motorcycle frames, car batteries and packs of feral dogs to encourage the homeless residents to check out IHS’ new mobile employment center that was parked below the incessant sound of cars and trucks whizzing overhead on the H-1.

Phillips looked out over modest but well-built structures, ramshackle homes floating on barges and a series of nets along the water’s edge to catch fish that residents sell for cash.

The ingenuity and detail of some of the construction and engineering impressed Phillips. But it also told him that the people who stretch from the edge of Sand Island Access Road to Lagoon Drive have long adapted to life off the grid, making it even harder for outreach workers to get them to move out of the brush.

“This group has been homeless a long time, and they know how to survive,” Phillips said. “They know how to cook and how to defend themselves.”

A man who called himself “Pop” sat with his shirt open, slumped against a concrete wall behind a pile of belongings.

Asked his age, Pop told the Honolulu Star-Advertiser, “Let’s just say I’m in my 70s.”

Asked how long he’s been homeless, Pop said, “It’s a long story.”

There are two distinct encampments: one along the waters of Keehi Lagoon surrounding the Hawaii All-Star Paintball Games field, and another toward Lagoon Drive. They are divided by a notorious “gaming room” under the airport viaduct that’s known as a gambling site to homeless people as far away as Chinatown, Phillips said.

He estimates that half of the people have work of some kind, mostly “under-the-table jobs” that make it even harder to draw them off the street with the allure of legitimate employment.

“This is your hard-core population, the long-term homeless who have been living out here 10 years, 15 years,” Phillips said.

Piles of garbage, rusted shopping carts, broken surfboards and various machine parts dot the landscape despite graffiti messages asking people to clean up after themselves.

Mearilou Bliss, 43, lives along the waters of Keehi Lagoon and hasn’t worked in 10 years. But she insisted that she’s interested “in a steady job.”

Bliss does not have any of the identification or documents, such as a birth certificate, that she needs to get either work or a home, however. So she said she was interested in learning how IHS case managers can help her get the proper ID.

“It’s time for a change,” she told the Star-Advertiser. “There is a time for everything. I hope everything’s going to be all right.”

McLean had met Bliss before, and he once again encouraged her to sit down with a caseworker to begin the process of getting her birth certificate, Social Security card and other identification that she’ll need to move off the street.

Even though Bliss might not begin filling out the necessary paperwork after Friday’s visit, McLean and Phillips plan to become a regular presence in the encampments to encourage the homeless residents to turn their lives around.

In the meantime, Phillips said, “They’re not going anywhere.”

City Councilman Joey Manahan, who represents the area, made his first visit to the encampments Friday.

“The garbage is unreal,” he said. “We’re not going to be able to get a handle on it anytime soon. It’s bigger than Kakaako.”

Still, there were signs of hope.

Bryce Wykes, 62, lives outside the area in a nearby homeless encampment off Dillingham Boulevard and stopped at the IHS mobile employment van while walking by.

Even though he’s been homeless for 10 years, Wykes said he had been working at a small demolition company on Sand Island until a moped accident two years ago.

Otherwise, Wykes said he was content living on the street. “It’s peaceful, except for the cars and the trucks,” he said. “You get used to it.”

Like untold others, Bert Arriba, 49, lost all his identification during a homeless sweep.

It took him six years to get his Philippine passport and birth certificate back, and he’s now ready to work.

“Hopefully, they’ll help me find a job,” Arriba said while standing outside the employment van. “I’ll take anything, as long as I get a job.”

Meantime, McLean and Phillips will return every Friday to try to make a difference.

Because, Phillips said, he knows “the problem is bigger than what we are.”