Just before dawn Wednesday, 46-year-old Lamar Nobles strode onto an oceanfront stretch of Waikiki looking for a place to rest among a row of homeless people sleeping steps away from some of the state’s priciest hotels.

Instead, he found hope.

"I really want to do a homeless survey," Nobles said as he approached a volunteer who was part of a community-based effort called 100,000 Homes Oahu, which aims to move 100 of Oahu’s most at-risk homeless people and families into permanent homes in the next two years.

Nobles, who came from California in search of a better life in paradise but ended up spending 11 years living on Oahu’s streets and beaches, was one of 439 homeless people who were surveyed from Monday to Wednesday.

Escorted by Hono­lulu police officers and social workers, about 200 volunteers surveyed homeless people in Waikiki, urban Hono­lulu and the Leeward Coast. They ranged from Colin Kippen, Hawaii state coordinator on homelessness, to City Councilman Stanley Chang and four of his staff members, to others from all walks of life.

David Kaeding, a former homeless man who is outreach director for the Hepatitis Support Network, was among the volunteers. Kae­ding, a disabled veteran, said he spent three years on the streets of Oahu before finding housing through the Shelter Plus Program.

"I understand what it’s like to be on the other side. I want people to realize that there is help out there and that they can get off the streets," Kaeding said.

Kippen, who visited all of the survey sites, said he learned from the experience that "there is not a one-size-fits-all solution to homelessness."

"They all have reasons for being out there, and in the context of their lives, they make sense," Kippen said. "But I’ll tell you what, there are fewer degrees of separation than most people realize. They are a lot more ‘us’ than they are ‘them.’"

The detailed demo­graphic survey data, which will be released at a community briefing and potluck on Saturday, will be put into a database that identifies the most chronic and medically or mentally fragile homeless people as well as those who are the biggest drain on community resources, said Kent Anderson, 100,000 Homes Oahu coordinator.

The program won’t be able to provide housing for all of Oahu’s unsheltered homeless people, who are estimated to number around 1,300 on any given night. However, Nobles and others said they are hopeful that participating in survey week could bring them closer to getting off the streets.

"Getting a place to stay would help me big time. You just don’t know what you are up against living out here 24 hours a day," Nobles said. "You can lose your mind. It can make you someone that you was never."

Chronic unsheltered homelessness is life-threatening and can reduce a person’s life expectancy by 25 years, Anderson said. Allowing people to remain homeless also comes with steep financial costs to society, he said.

"It’s much cheaper to get people into supportive housing than to provide public services in a very inefficient way," Anderson said. "What’s really exciting is that we could have the first people in homes in the next few weeks."

Twenty-four homes are available for occupancy, said Paul Oshiro, Care-a-Van program manager for the Waikiki Health Center. Participants would be assigned caseworkers to help them make the transition and given move-in kits, including home furnishings, so that they are not moving into empty places, Oshiro said.

Such an offer couldn’t come soon enough for Onena Butler, who volunteers found living in a couple of tents with her boyfriend and four children along a strip of land near the Hono­lulu Zoo, where about 30 other homeless singles, couples and families also live.

"We’ve been out here too long," said Butler, whose family has been struggling since moving to Hawaii from Guam in 2008.

The family became homeless about a year ago when her boyfriend lost his job, she said. Although Butler’s boyfriend now works at a Waikiki restaurant, the family has not been able to scrape up enough money for a first and last months’ rental deposit. For now she worries all the time.

"Being homeless is really hard. Something could happen. There are weird people and everything else," Butler said. "Without an icebox, the food goes really fast. There’s not really enough food to feed my children. We want to find permanent housing."

Homelessness is more ingrained in people such as B.J. Kam, 56, who grew up on Date Street but is now living under a tarp a few makeshift shelters from the Butler family. A familiar figure to Waikiki residents and outreach workers, Kam waved the survey volunteers away twice before calling them back to talk about her past eight years on Waikiki’s streets.

"It’s not easy. We don’t have that much authority out here," said Kam, who was nursing a cold. "We still believe that this is our aina. This is our home. But the government treats us like animals. People hurt us with words. We go through pain. People need to bless us and not da kine."

Councilman Chang, whose district includes Waikiki, said he gets frequent complaints about homelessness in the state’s top tourist district.

"The visitor industry and residents are very concerned about aesthetics and costs," he said. "We have to work together to find compassionate solutions."

Melody Young, a Waikiki resident, said she initially volunteered for the program because she viewed homelessness as a neighborhood nuisance and safety concern. Before the makeover of Kuhio Mini Park No. 2, which is adjacent to her condo, Young said nearly a dozen homeless people lived in the park nightly.

"I interviewed a gentleman who would have scared me before," Young said. "Now I know not to overreact. They are members of the community, too."