Science Communication

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BLOWN AWAY

Why are we recycling plastic in Lake Ontario?

By your local limnologist

Spring is in the air…but so is the plastic we’re trying to recycle.

You know that feeling this time of year. The buds are just starting to open, fresh green grass pushing though the soil soaked from melting snow and rain. The air smells clean. You walk along the lakefront path, listening to the waves roll in. And then…you notice it. 

Plastic bags caught in tree branches along the creek. Sheets of wrapping imitating groundcover. Looking around, you see bottles, chip bags, coffee cups, lids, cling wrap—everywhere. In the creek itself, plastic stuck to rocks, pulsing with the current like it belongs there.

You keep walking toward the beach. Two swans drift near the shoreline, trying to find a place to land. But along the water’s edge the natural debris is riddled with bottle caps, floss picks, tampon applicators, cigarette butts, and fragments of plastic you can’t even identify anymore. Near the rock groyne, there’s a pocket of water collecting everything. Plastic just sits there, trapped. When the wind picks up, a white plastic bag lifts off the ground, twisting, tumbling, almost dancing as it gets carried down the shoreline.  And that’s when it hits you. This isn’t random.

Grimsby is kind of an odd place when you think about it. We’re squeezed between two massive features—the Niagara Escarpment and Lake Ontario. And while it makes for beautiful scenery, it also shapes something we don’t always think about: our rampaging wind.

Here’s the thing. In the spring, the lake stays cold while the land warms up. That difference sets the air in motion. During the day, cooler air moves inland from the lake. At night, it flips, and the wind heads back toward the water. These daily wind shifts, called thermal breezes, can get pretty strong, especially this time of year. And when weather systems roll through? It gets even more intense. Cold air can settle at the base of the escarpment and push everything toward the lake.

Which explains something we all deal with on recycling day. You put everything out, hoping it stays where you left it. But by the next morning, you’re chasing bins down the street, picking up cardboard from your neighbour’s yard, watching plastic blow straight toward the lake. It’s become normal. But it shouldn’t be. Even when we try to do the right thing—bagging materials, tying things down—it’s not always enough. These winds don’t care. They pick things up and take them for a joyride around the neighbourhood. And just because plastic has left your curb, it doesn’t disappear. It sticks around. For a very, very long time.

Here’s the part that really matters. Those larger plastic items, what scientists call macroplastics, often get caught in vegetation, creeks, and along the shoreline. But they don’t stay whole forever. Over time, they break down into smaller and smaller pieces called microplastics. These are tiny, less than five millimetres, and they’re now everywhere.

According to the International Joint Commission, plastic pollution in the Great Lakes includes everything from bags and bottles to fibres and microbeads, many of which eventually break down into these persistent microplastics. They’re small, they move easily, and once they’re out there, they’re incredibly hard to remove. And it doesn’t stop in the environment. Microplastics have now been found in the human body. They can get in through the food we eat, the air we breathe, even through everyday contact. Researchers have detected them in blood, lungs, the liver—even the placenta. We’re still learning what that means for long-term health, but scientists are concerned. And for good reason.

Because what starts as a plastic bag in a tree doesn’t stay there. It breaks apart. It spreads. It becomes part of something much bigger. And as plastics break down, they can release chemicals that interact with water, wildlife, and ecosystems in ways we’re only beginning to understand. The connection is direct. What escapes from our recycling bins often end up in our lake.

Now here’s the important part. This isn’t about pointing fingers at individual people. Honestly, it’s bigger than that. Yes, we can all do our part. But the reality is, this problem is being shaped by something much larger: our geography, our weather, and a waste recovery system that doesn’t fully account for either. We live in a place where strong, predictable winds are just part of life. And yet, our recycling systems aren’t designed with that in mind. That’s a gap. And it’s one we can fix.

The International Joint Commission has been clear: we need to properly manage plastics so they don’t enter the environment in the first place, and that takes more than just good intentions; it takes coordination, policy, and education. As our community grows, especially along the lakeshore, this issue is only going to get worse if we don’t address it now.

We need practical, locally informed solutions. Things like better containment, improved systems, and approaches that actually reflect the reality of living beside a big lake with strong winds. At the same time, there’s still a role for all of us. The small choices matter. How we secure our recycling. How we think about waste. How we talk about these issues with each other. Because this isn’t just about litter. It’s about our lake. Our environment. And, ultimately, our own health.

And that’s something worth caring about.