Behind what is soon to become Whole Foods in Lafayette, the smells from six dumpsters waft through the night air. One holds construction material, another rotting meat; still another, decomposing vegetables, and the rest a combination of all three.

Under a waning moon, as cars whiz by on the freeway just overhead, a fresh-faced DVC student with a short beard rummages through a dumpster that smells a little of cleaning supplies, but mostly of bread.

“Ah here we go.”

He tosses a clear trash bag full of 100 or so bagels out of the dumpster and jumps out after it.

On this night, Alex agrees to take an Inquirer editor and photographer along on his dumpster dive run.

At 18 he is neither homeless nor any worse off than the average broke college student. He grew up in a middle-class home in the El Cerrito hills and now lives with his girlfriend in Lafayette.

Alex is part of the “Freegan” movement, whose adherents rejects waste, consumerism and capitalism.

“I wouldn’t take this one home, it’s got bleach all over it,” Alex says, digging deeper into the bag in search of an edible bagel.

“Mmm, my favorite, chocolate,” he adds, examining it closely before throwing it back into the dumpster. He pulls out and bites into a poppy seed bagel he deems safe to eat.

We are riding bicycles on this not entirely legal but rarely prosecuted adventure, Alex on a bike he pulled out brand new from behind Kmart after a recall forced its disposal.

At Safeway, Alex takes us to an area in the corner of the parking lot where, amidst pallets and racks, he pulls out a bag full of loafs of bread.

“These are all sandwich making breads, probably from the deli,” he says, biting into a sourdough loaf. “They put it all out at 8.”

Alex says he has never gotten sick from eating food out of a dumpster, but one needs to careful.

“You gotta be picky when it comes to meat,” he says, warning that discoloration, warm weather, and the plastic wrapper expanding with air are all things to look out for.

Another DVC student, David, 20, joins us soon after we leave Safeway. He rides a bike he pieced together out of various parts he found in dumpsters behind bike shops and a rental shop in Yosemite, as well as on streets during big trash collection days.

David does not consider himself a “freegan,” but occasionally dumpster dives with friends for bike parts and food for his trips to the mountains.

We continued on to Trader Joe’s, stopping along the way to check the dumpster behind a skate shop, although nothing is found.

“This spot’s not really chill,” says Alex as he expertly jumps over a fence and into a dumpster at the side of Trader Joe’s. “There’s a bunch of workers around the corner,”

“They’ll say shit and be like, ‘You can’t do this.'”

He pops back over, holding two bouquets of flowers.

“My girlfriend will be happy,” he says, smiling.

Although nothing much is found on this trip, other than the bagels and bread, Alex says you can find some great stuff, you just have to know where to go.

Some of his favorite dumpster spots include a used book store in Concord, a thrift shop in Walnut Creek and bins at storage centers.

Alex says he has found six-packs of plants behind nurseries, tossed because one had died, and his friends have discovered money or jewelry in the pockets of purses found behind thrift shops.

“I’ve had friends find pounds of weed,” he says. “Grow operations throw out all the trimmings.”

David says he scopes out items on trash days and tries to collect it later with a van.

“Trash collection days, those are like, ‘score,'” he says. “I’ve got a wagon from there, and I’ve gotten numerous parts for bikes. I’ve got sleds, lawn chairs, whatever.”

As Alex put it while standing atop a dumpster, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”