Lynn Lau
Northern News Services
Yellowknife (Jun 29/01) - In the market for a couch, lawnmower, bike, washer, or Tonka toy?
No money down, ever. Returns no problem.
A pickup truck and a good eye are all you need to reap the savings at Yellowknife's civic dump, where abundance astonishes.
Mike and Colleen Ingram have been coming to the dump ever since they moved here two years ago from British Columbia.
I met the Ingrams and their four-year-old son, Sterling, this weekend when I was out looking for furniture for my new apartment. (I scored a purple dresser, but would soon learn how humble my find was in comparison with those the regulars speak of).
The Ingrams first came to the dump two years ago to unload trash during the renovations on their handyman's special trailer home. They drove away with as much stuff as they'd dumped.
They were hooked, like the dozens of others who frequent the dump, some as often as every day. Mike, a truck driver for highways maintenance, used to visit daily, but now it's down to once a week.
"It kind of turned into a hobby," says Colleen, who works as a secretary for the city's environmental health unit. "We go through a lot of cleaning products and bleach."
At the Ingram's trailer home, things are looking a lot spiffier than the day they bought it. They've fixed the place up with lots of help from the dump.
The front and back doors, washer, dryer and stove, new countertop, carpet, and almost every stick of furniture in the house were at one time at the dump.
For Sterling, the dump is like a giant toy store where his parents never say no. Almost every toy in his overflowing closet, and all the bikes, trikes and toboggans in the yard, come from the dump. Last year, his parents treated him to a new bike only to find out he preferred his old ones.
All that waste and stuff people throw out makes Mike shake his head sometimes. "I don't understand," he says. "That's like the other regulars -- they don't know why. People got too much money or they're moving and it's too expensive to move."
We brainstormed other reasons why the city's dump is so full of good stuff: the scarcity of basements, the transient population, maybe even the dynamic dating scene.
Apparently, the post-breakup purge results in some choice pickings. "Because it's all good stuff," says Mike.
The remains of yard sales are also good, which is why the dump is so busy on Saturday afternoons. Mike once saw a storage company unload a truck full of unclaimed things.
"There was a real crowd there," he says. The Ingrams managed to pick up two fancy end tables at that one.
They reckon they've saved thousands, maybe tens of thousands of dollars frequenting the dump. They've donated piles of clothes to the Salvation Army, and even shipped stuff south to their friends and relatives who live in places where the dumps are not nearly so excellent.
Whenever money is low, they'll sell things they don't need on the radio swap shop. Mike is especially good at replacing fuses in burnt out microwaves and TVs. In the last two years, they've had three yard sales, earning $850 at the latest one.
But being a regular at the dump is about more than just recycling, or saving and making money. "You meet the nicest people," says Mike, recalling one of the other regulars who once gave him a lawnmower.
Mike and Colleen themselves offered to store my dresser in their garage, offered me a pop ("Not from the dump," assured Colleen), and then invited me round for a future barbecue.
And I'd thought the purple dresser was a good find.
