The fraud of plastic recycling (link)
Following bikepacking events I find it depressing to see the almost celebratory photos of riders coming out of shops carrying armfuls of food and drink all wrapped in plastic. So for the 2026 HT550 there will be a Single-Use Plastic Free Category. The hope is that a few people will attempt the ride in this style and we will get the HT550's first ever "Plastic Free Time". Not many people can win HT550 but anyone could win the Plastic Free category. It won't be easy but with some practice in the months leading up to the start, you should be able to devise a strategy that will work for you. Below is an article by Mike Dennison describing his experience of riding the 2025 GBduro plastic free. Mike will be attempting to ride the 2026 HT550 plastic free.
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A different kind of fast. By Mike Dennison
Unlike a typical bikepacking ultra write up, we’ll start at the end.
Rolling into Stirling, I knew my 2025 GBDuro was over. My arthritic joints were screaming, and no amount of adjustment could make the bike comfortable enough to continue. It was time to pull the plug, draft the “Insta post of shame,” and head home.
In the past, moments like this would have felt like failure. I’d have questioned whether the time, the effort and sacrifice were worth it. But this time, those feelings never came. Instead, I felt unexpectedly elated—almost euphoric. Because although I hadn’t finished the race, I had achieved everything I set out to do.
For the last 8 ½ days and 1,450 kilometres, I’d been racing in a category of my own. One where minimising environmental impact was more important than speed, and ‘style’ mattered more than distance. Elapsed time was largely irrelevant, and while watching the dots was interesting, it didn’t define my ride.
My GBDuro race category was single-use-plastic-free, and I was the only entrant!
Elapsed time.
The yardstick we use to judge ourselves when we race. It governs everything: how hard we ride, how long we rest, and how much time we’re willing to spend refuelling at a shop or garage. Afterwards, it can become a measure of bikepacking “self-worth”. Elapsed time can motivate, but when it comes to fuelling, nutrition and recovery, it can just as easily work against us.
We’ve all been there. Ten hours in the saddle, running on empty. Two dots stopped at a village shop ahead, three more closing in behind. Do you stop and eat, or ride straight through to protect your position? The compromise – that familiar convenience-store ‘smash-and-grab’; armfuls of processed food, sugar and fizz, back on the bike with no idea how many calories you’ve taken onboard - or what to do with the pile of plastic packaging. Worth it for the 20 minutes saved vs a café or takeaway stop…maybe.
But what if there was another way? One where you’re still racing, but elapsed time isn’t the primary measure of success? If that idea appeals, then riding single-use-plastic-free might just be the alternative yardstick you’re looking for.
A single-use-plastic-free Highland Trail 550?
There are only a handful of riders capable of winning the HT 550, and perhaps another half-dozen or so chasing a top-ten finish. I’ve long accepted that I’m not among them.
As an arthritic veteran, the sharp end of the peloton disappeared up the trail many years ago. With that realisation came a quiet shift in focus. Rather than measuring success in hours and minutes, I’ve begun to value different things: being present each day, absorbing the landscapes, riding technical ground cleanly, and finishing each day tired but content. Lately, riding single-use-plastic-free has become the goal that ties all of this together. The seed was planted in the lead-up to the 2024 GBDuro after reading about the idea of a ‘Plastic Free Time’(or PFT) in The Radavist - completing an ultra without buying or using single-use-plastic. I didn’t have the bandwidth to attempt a PFT that year, but as I rode through the
West Country and into Wales, I became increasingly aware of plastic, seemingly everywhere I looked: packaging, bottles and wrappers scattered through verges, hedgerows and ditches. It was hard to ignore, and harder still to pretend I wasn’t part of the problem. Overflowing bins, unrecyclable packaging and time-pressured choices mean that when we throw something in the bin, it’s far from the end of the story.
The figures lingered in my mind: 88% of all plastic ever produced still exists on earth today. Only 9% has ever been recycled. Once seen, they’re difficult to unsee.
My 2024 GBDuro came to an end in Llangollen. Four days of eating processed food, an overly aggressive bike setup, and constant dot and clock-watching had worn me down. In chasing elapsed time, I’d let go of many of the things that first drew me to bikepacking – being at one with the bike, curiosity, and the simple pleasures of riding and eating well. The lesson was clear, even if it was an uncomfortable one. I knew I could do better, and before I’d made it home I had committed to another attempt.
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results” Albert Einstein (allegedly!)
When I returned to GBDuro in 2025, the changes to my approach were intentional. A hardtail mountain bike replaced the gravel bike, but more importantly, I committed to a different idea of success—one that asked less of the clock, and more of myself.
Riding single-use-plastic-free.
First things first: what does riding single-use-plastic-free actually mean? In practice, it’s fairly straightforward:
· Don’t bring any single-use plastic to the start.
· Don’t buy anything during the ride that’s wrapped or packaged in single-use plastic.
· Any tins, cardboard or paper packaging purchased en route must be recycled along the way, or carried to the finish and recycled there.
· Any single-use plastic acquired accidentally, or in a genuine emergency, must be carried to the finish, accounted for, and disposed of responsibly.
And my own personal addition, to remove any ambiguity or doubt:
· Treat all plastic as if it were single-use.
Ride, eat, sleep, repeat.
My 2025 GBDuro race plan was less a strategy and more a menu: how many calories I needed each hour, and where they would come from.
· Great Torrington, Taff’s:
Special fried rice + mixed veg + a can of Coke = 2,000 kcal (2½ hours)
· Radstock, COOP:
400g Heinz Ravioli + 400g Ambrosia Rice Pudding + 2 bananas = 1,500 kcal (2 hours)
I’d practised eating plastic-free combinations on long training rides and spent time researching cafés and takeaways in towns and villages, right down to menus and opening times. The aim was to eat proper food whenever possible, fill the gaps with tried and tested canned and fresh options, with homemade energy bars as a contingency. If I fuelled well and rode my own race at a sustainable pace, then elapsed time would look after itself.
GBDuro 2025.
The build-up was the usual pre-race ritual of tinkering, packing, repacking, and second-guessing the weather, followed by a convoluted, no-fly journey from Aberdeenshire to Land’s End. By the time I reached the start I was a bit jaded, but something felt different. I was calm. The familiar nerves and imposter syndrome were absent; the challenge ahead felt internal rather than comparative.
Riding north through the West Country, I stuck to my plan. The heat climbed to 34 degrees and sourcing water took time and effort, but I knew where I could refill my bottles. Riders came past and I let them go, quietly reminding myself why I was there. I resisted the urge to chase, and in doing so found myself more present—aware of the miles, the landscape, and how my body felt.
Curiosity eventually won and I checked the tracker as I crossed into Wales. I was surprised to see myself sitting comfortably mid pack, but what mattered more was how I felt: content, at one with the task in hand, and enjoying proper food. Yes, there were a few challenges – being directed to a car wash to refill my bottles was one of the more amusing - but nothing derailed the rhythm. By not racing the clock and chasing dots, I wasn’t ‘thrashing’ either myself or the bike, which rolled on faultlessly as others accumulated mechanicals, and fell away.
Unlike a typical bikepacking ultra write up, we’ll start at the end.
Rolling into Stirling, I knew my 2025 GBDuro was over. My arthritic joints were screaming, and no amount of adjustment could make the bike comfortable enough to continue. It was time to pull the plug, draft the “Insta post of shame,” and head home.
In the past, moments like this would have felt like failure. I’d have questioned whether the time, the effort and sacrifice were worth it. But this time, those feelings never came. Instead, I felt unexpectedly elated—almost euphoric. Because although I hadn’t finished the race, I had achieved everything I set out to do.
For the last 8 ½ days and 1,450 kilometres, I’d been racing in a category of my own. One where minimising environmental impact was more important than speed, and ‘style’ mattered more than distance. Elapsed time was largely irrelevant, and while watching the dots was interesting, it didn’t define my ride.
My GBDuro race category was single-use-plastic-free, and I was the only entrant!
Elapsed time.
The yardstick we use to judge ourselves when we race. It governs everything: how hard we ride, how long we rest, and how much time we’re willing to spend refuelling at a shop or garage. Afterwards, it can become a measure of bikepacking “self-worth”. Elapsed time can motivate, but when it comes to fuelling, nutrition and recovery, it can just as easily work against us.
We’ve all been there. Ten hours in the saddle, running on empty. Two dots stopped at a village shop ahead, three more closing in behind. Do you stop and eat, or ride straight through to protect your position? The compromise – that familiar convenience-store ‘smash-and-grab’; armfuls of processed food, sugar and fizz, back on the bike with no idea how many calories you’ve taken onboard - or what to do with the pile of plastic packaging. Worth it for the 20 minutes saved vs a café or takeaway stop…maybe.
But what if there was another way? One where you’re still racing, but elapsed time isn’t the primary measure of success? If that idea appeals, then riding single-use-plastic-free might just be the alternative yardstick you’re looking for.
A single-use-plastic-free Highland Trail 550?
There are only a handful of riders capable of winning the HT 550, and perhaps another half-dozen or so chasing a top-ten finish. I’ve long accepted that I’m not among them.
As an arthritic veteran, the sharp end of the peloton disappeared up the trail many years ago. With that realisation came a quiet shift in focus. Rather than measuring success in hours and minutes, I’ve begun to value different things: being present each day, absorbing the landscapes, riding technical ground cleanly, and finishing each day tired but content. Lately, riding single-use-plastic-free has become the goal that ties all of this together. The seed was planted in the lead-up to the 2024 GBDuro after reading about the idea of a ‘Plastic Free Time’(or PFT) in The Radavist - completing an ultra without buying or using single-use-plastic. I didn’t have the bandwidth to attempt a PFT that year, but as I rode through the
West Country and into Wales, I became increasingly aware of plastic, seemingly everywhere I looked: packaging, bottles and wrappers scattered through verges, hedgerows and ditches. It was hard to ignore, and harder still to pretend I wasn’t part of the problem. Overflowing bins, unrecyclable packaging and time-pressured choices mean that when we throw something in the bin, it’s far from the end of the story.
The figures lingered in my mind: 88% of all plastic ever produced still exists on earth today. Only 9% has ever been recycled. Once seen, they’re difficult to unsee.
My 2024 GBDuro came to an end in Llangollen. Four days of eating processed food, an overly aggressive bike setup, and constant dot and clock-watching had worn me down. In chasing elapsed time, I’d let go of many of the things that first drew me to bikepacking – being at one with the bike, curiosity, and the simple pleasures of riding and eating well. The lesson was clear, even if it was an uncomfortable one. I knew I could do better, and before I’d made it home I had committed to another attempt.
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results” Albert Einstein (allegedly!)
When I returned to GBDuro in 2025, the changes to my approach were intentional. A hardtail mountain bike replaced the gravel bike, but more importantly, I committed to a different idea of success—one that asked less of the clock, and more of myself.
Riding single-use-plastic-free.
First things first: what does riding single-use-plastic-free actually mean? In practice, it’s fairly straightforward:
· Don’t bring any single-use plastic to the start.
· Don’t buy anything during the ride that’s wrapped or packaged in single-use plastic.
· Any tins, cardboard or paper packaging purchased en route must be recycled along the way, or carried to the finish and recycled there.
· Any single-use plastic acquired accidentally, or in a genuine emergency, must be carried to the finish, accounted for, and disposed of responsibly.
And my own personal addition, to remove any ambiguity or doubt:
· Treat all plastic as if it were single-use.
Ride, eat, sleep, repeat.
My 2025 GBDuro race plan was less a strategy and more a menu: how many calories I needed each hour, and where they would come from.
· Great Torrington, Taff’s:
Special fried rice + mixed veg + a can of Coke = 2,000 kcal (2½ hours)
· Radstock, COOP:
400g Heinz Ravioli + 400g Ambrosia Rice Pudding + 2 bananas = 1,500 kcal (2 hours)
I’d practised eating plastic-free combinations on long training rides and spent time researching cafés and takeaways in towns and villages, right down to menus and opening times. The aim was to eat proper food whenever possible, fill the gaps with tried and tested canned and fresh options, with homemade energy bars as a contingency. If I fuelled well and rode my own race at a sustainable pace, then elapsed time would look after itself.
GBDuro 2025.
The build-up was the usual pre-race ritual of tinkering, packing, repacking, and second-guessing the weather, followed by a convoluted, no-fly journey from Aberdeenshire to Land’s End. By the time I reached the start I was a bit jaded, but something felt different. I was calm. The familiar nerves and imposter syndrome were absent; the challenge ahead felt internal rather than comparative.
Riding north through the West Country, I stuck to my plan. The heat climbed to 34 degrees and sourcing water took time and effort, but I knew where I could refill my bottles. Riders came past and I let them go, quietly reminding myself why I was there. I resisted the urge to chase, and in doing so found myself more present—aware of the miles, the landscape, and how my body felt.
Curiosity eventually won and I checked the tracker as I crossed into Wales. I was surprised to see myself sitting comfortably mid pack, but what mattered more was how I felt: content, at one with the task in hand, and enjoying proper food. Yes, there were a few challenges – being directed to a car wash to refill my bottles was one of the more amusing - but nothing derailed the rhythm. By not racing the clock and chasing dots, I wasn’t ‘thrashing’ either myself or the bike, which rolled on faultlessly as others accumulated mechanicals, and fell away.
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Llangollen, Chester and Manchester slipped by, punctuated by both culinary highs and lows. Sachets of instant porridge when mixed with cold water make a great energy drink! The taste of the Boursin sandwiches lingered longer than their calorific benefit, and the crows enjoyed much more of the can of corned beef I hauled up Great Dun Fell, than I was able to stomach! Still, the system worked and I was having a ball…until rather abruptly I wasn’t.
Day 8 was a real test: 111 mostly off-road miles with 11,000 feet of climbing. By the time I reached Biggar, my arthritis was making its presence felt. Avoiding heavily processed food had helped keep inflammation at bay, but by noon the following day in Stirling, swollen wrists, fingers, and an inability to grip the bars made my decision to stop an easy one. I was in 8th place at the time.
So was it all worth it?
I think you can guess the answer to that one. Riding single-use-plastic-free isn’t easy, and it isn’t for everyone. For me, it added a layer of meaning that went beyond distance or race position, and reshaped how I experienced the ride. It asked me to slow down, pay attention, and make deliberate choices – both on and off the bike. And it’s become something which I now take with me on every ride.
Would I do it all again? In a heartbeat. But until then – here are 5 lessons learned in the run up to my single-use-plastic-free GBDuro attempt – just in case you need them!:
1. Tell folk what you are doing, and why.
Friends, fellow riders, café and takeaway staff, anyone who’ll listen. It reduces the risk of being given something wrapped in single-use-plastic, and it helps raise awareness.
2. Do the maths, make an ‘eating plan’, and stick to it.
How many calories you need / hour, and where you are going to get them from. Do it for the whole route based on ‘worse case’ pacing. To be fair, you should probably be doing this anyway, though many folk don’t look beyond the next 24 hours!
3. Shop for food purposefully.
Know what you are going to buy before you go in to a shop. Buy what’s on your list, and leave. If you’re going to buckle, it’ll be when you’re tired, hungry, and in a convenience store without a shopping list!
4. Pack the ‘tools of the trade’.
A small tin opener, a pop-up mug, long handled spoon and a knife, sheets of tinfoil and zip lock bags. Most cafés and stores are very happy for you to use your own packaging.
5. Be mentally prepared to make some difficult choices!
If you’ve read this far, and decided that it’s not for you, then here’s a final thought…
Not everyone will want - or be able - to commit to riding completely single-use-plastic-free, and that’s okay. The Pareto Principle reminds us that 80% of the impact often comes from just 20% of the actions. So perhaps you could refill your bottles from a tap instead of buying bottled water. Recycle your cans and cardboard rather than binning them. Choose unpackaged food when it’s available.
Small, intentional changes matter. You may not be riding plastic-free, but you’d be moving in the right direction - and that, in itself, is worth something.
Day 8 was a real test: 111 mostly off-road miles with 11,000 feet of climbing. By the time I reached Biggar, my arthritis was making its presence felt. Avoiding heavily processed food had helped keep inflammation at bay, but by noon the following day in Stirling, swollen wrists, fingers, and an inability to grip the bars made my decision to stop an easy one. I was in 8th place at the time.
So was it all worth it?
I think you can guess the answer to that one. Riding single-use-plastic-free isn’t easy, and it isn’t for everyone. For me, it added a layer of meaning that went beyond distance or race position, and reshaped how I experienced the ride. It asked me to slow down, pay attention, and make deliberate choices – both on and off the bike. And it’s become something which I now take with me on every ride.
Would I do it all again? In a heartbeat. But until then – here are 5 lessons learned in the run up to my single-use-plastic-free GBDuro attempt – just in case you need them!:
1. Tell folk what you are doing, and why.
Friends, fellow riders, café and takeaway staff, anyone who’ll listen. It reduces the risk of being given something wrapped in single-use-plastic, and it helps raise awareness.
2. Do the maths, make an ‘eating plan’, and stick to it.
How many calories you need / hour, and where you are going to get them from. Do it for the whole route based on ‘worse case’ pacing. To be fair, you should probably be doing this anyway, though many folk don’t look beyond the next 24 hours!
3. Shop for food purposefully.
Know what you are going to buy before you go in to a shop. Buy what’s on your list, and leave. If you’re going to buckle, it’ll be when you’re tired, hungry, and in a convenience store without a shopping list!
4. Pack the ‘tools of the trade’.
A small tin opener, a pop-up mug, long handled spoon and a knife, sheets of tinfoil and zip lock bags. Most cafés and stores are very happy for you to use your own packaging.
5. Be mentally prepared to make some difficult choices!
If you’ve read this far, and decided that it’s not for you, then here’s a final thought…
Not everyone will want - or be able - to commit to riding completely single-use-plastic-free, and that’s okay. The Pareto Principle reminds us that 80% of the impact often comes from just 20% of the actions. So perhaps you could refill your bottles from a tap instead of buying bottled water. Recycle your cans and cardboard rather than binning them. Choose unpackaged food when it’s available.
Small, intentional changes matter. You may not be riding plastic-free, but you’d be moving in the right direction - and that, in itself, is worth something.
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