Earthblog

When I was a kid, I used to see Mr. Paulsen driving around town in his old Ford pickup. The back was always full of stuffed trash bags and random pieces of garbage, a bent bike wheel, a cracked kitchen sink. Sometimes under the glow of a streetlight you could see him with his head in a dumpster. Everyone thought he was odd, but they thought he was even odder one January. He started collecting dead Christmas trees people would throw out on the curb for the trash man. If you drove past his house along the park road, you could see that he was replanting them (more or less) in his front yard. That got people whispering.

Mr. Paulsen comes to mind because of the growing buzz about dumpster diving. Rather than being frowned upon, it’s making headlines in good fashion in places ranging from the New York Times and Denver Post to the Fort Collins’ Collegian. Online, there are websites devoted to connecting fellow dumpster divers, like  dumsterdiving.meetup.com, a site where they, “…discuss techniques for hunting and retrieving garbage gems.” If Mr. Paulsen is still practicing, he’s acquiring good company.

One obvious reason for the increased interest in dumpster diving is that people are becoming aware of the colossal amount of waste we produce as a nation, particularly food waste. The USDA says that 96 billion pounds of food are discarded every year. It also says much of that waste comes from a surplus of perishable food (like blemished fruit or expired bread) from restaurants, cafeterias, caterers, grocery stores, and other food-service establishments. When this kind of information is revealed to certain people, they are compelled to start scavenging in dumpsters.

To be sure, there are some who rely on food from dumpsters, but the recent surge of divers includes many who do not. Laura Pritchett points out in Going Green that she and her husband (and kids) don’t dumpster dive out of necessity. They’re middle class, they both have PhDs, but they choose to dive based on their own convictions about waste. They also dive because they enjoy it. Some families play UNO, others go dumpster diving.

Celeste, another local diver, said that while she gets all her breakfast foods from dumpsters, she doesn’t rely on the food. She wants dumpster diving to become mainstream. Why? She hopes if it becomes a big enough problem for merchants, they will have to come up with a more responsible way of dealing with their usable waste. Ideally, she said, they would start distributing it to those who really need it.

A few nights ago I met up with some Fort Collins dumpster divers. I had called one of them to see if I could do a ride-along with him. He asked if we could use my car (this is a good technique to remember, all you aspiring dumpster divers). When I picked him up, the group had grown from two to six. I felt like I had joined a rock band. Or become the bus driver.

For those of you who’ve never dumpster dived, there are some things you should know. Dumpster diving in a large group can make you feel like you’re in high school again. Someone said, “It feels like I’m in an episode of This American Life.” It’s dark. You’re in a car of people. Everyone wears baggy old sweatshirts and untied boots. You’re holding a flashlight in your right hand.  Someone says, “Park here. Wait! No, park over there, there are people over here.” Then you get out of the car and someone says, “Let’s walk from here, and pretend like we’re going over there.” Someone else says, “Wait, where?” And then there’s laughter and hushing, then yelling, then hushing again.

When first getting into dumpster diving, it can feel like you’ve discovered a whole new world. Skipping, dumpstering, bin diving, containering, skally-wagging, trashing, or my personal favorite, going to D-Mart, all basically mean dumpster diving. There are legends in this new world. Once, while in a dumpster, a girl in Minnesota closed the cover to be less conspicuous. She was picked up by a garbage truck and nearly thrown into its bin. In 2000 while scavenging, Willie Fulgear found 55 Oscars that had been reported stolen. His reward: $50,000, and two tickets to the Oscars.

But there are other, perhaps more practical, things you should know. Common dangers include stepping on glass or other objects not meant to be stepped on. Remember, when people throw things into dumpsters, they’re not usually concerning themselves with the fact that someone might visit. Know that you should wear clothes that look like the kind your dad would wear whenever he changed the car oil. Gloves? Yes. Some hand sanitizer? Pretty fancy, but you’re catching on. Headlamp? Definitely. Bags for the loot? You’re a pro. If you want, bring a stool to ease the climb in. A hoe or some other long, hook-like tool would be helpful.

Believe it or not, there’s etiquette to dumpster diving. “Leave the dumpster cleaner than you found it,” someone in our group said. I watched her pick up cardboard and other garbage surrounding the bin. Another said you should only take what you need. If you’re going to take more than that, share it. This individual often feeds his friends with all the food he reclaims. Don’t trespass to dumpster dive, unless you accept the risk of getting arrested. And if you get sick from any food you consume because you weren’t careful enough examining it, or if you injure yourself while diving, don’t sue the merchant (yes, this happens in the good ol’ USA). Worried companies are starting to protect themselves from the potential liability by locking dumpsters or, in extreme cases, pouring bleach on top of the trash and staking a warning sign for divers.

The degree of success from dumpster to dumpster relies on both luck and skill. Because our group’s adventure was spontaneous, there wasn’t much of a strategy. But there are better times to go than others. If you’re really smart, you get inside information from a store worker about the what/when/where of the store’s trash. Someone said it’s good to bring friends, but even better to bring friends who have military experience. They’re good at sneaking and climbing.

Despite our lack of planning and GI’s, we managed the luck part. One bin contained roughly thirty loaves of gourmet bread. Baguettes, focaccia, multigrain, Italian, round cheese bread. And we weren’t lucky just because of quantity; all of it was double bagged and well preserved. Among six we apportioned all of it. I’m still enjoying some of the multi-grain.

We found other things along the way—a brand new (repairable) leather office chair, a long church table, cleaning tools. Sadly, we left them. No one in our group was in need or had room. Like most usable waste, it has probably made it to the landfill south of town, which seems silly.

It makes me think again about Mr. Paulsen. I wonder if he was as crazy as people thought. His stunt with the Christmas trees could certainly be taken as an act of comedic genius; a social statement on traditional but questionable Western practices. Whatever the case, today his actions are joining many other dumpster divers in a sort of soft protest. Not surprisingly, given the growing waste problems in the United States, dumpster divers’ actions are becoming profoundly powerful and contagious.

All photos by Aaron Espe.