The Giant Land
Next Chapter (Original Canadians -- and Newcomers to 1663)

• Heritage and History
• Environment and Canadian Regions
• The Limits of the Land

Heritage and History

Many heritages would join in shaping Canada's history, in all its sweep and rich variety. There were the age-old legacies of its native peoples, Indian or Inuit; the major bequests laid down by transatlantic newcomers from Britain or France, who first began arriving close on five centuries ago; the valuable endowments brought by later arrivals from other parts of Europe or America; and most recently, from still more distant areas spread far around the globe. Nor were these ethnic contributions all. Distinctive political, social and cultural traditions themselves emerged within the rising Canadian national domain in North America. No less distinctive economic activities and interests developed in each of the great regions which together formed a country more than half the continent in size. And yet, behind these growing national or regional patterns -- and beyond all the other human inheritances that shared in making Canada -- one further moulding factor was endlessly at work: the natural heritage bestowed by the giant land itself, by the vast Canadian environment.

That environmental heritage most strikingly appeared in the grandeur of soaring mountains, the majestic thrust of waterways, or in the huge expanses of territory which stretched from the same latitude as the northern border of California to icebound islands edging polar seas. That natural inheritance appeared as well in the stored-up wealth of soil, mineral and energy resources, in abundant plant, forest, and animal life, not to mention teeming fisheries off both the Atlantic and Pacific coasts. But the forces of the Canadian environment were equally displayed in massive geographical barriers across the land, in stiff restraints of climate, and over all, in stern limits set on human dealings with a difficult physical world. For now the main point is, however, that meeting the challenges of the land to gain its bounties composed a basic theme that would run right through Canadian history, in every region of the country. This was as true for Inuit hunting families ranging primeval Arctic wilds as for seventeenth-century English fishermen settling into rugged Newfoundland; for early French fur-traders probing up the long St. Lawrence-Great Lakes water system as for Ukrainian immigrants of the young twentieth century carving out farms on open western plains. It was just as true for miners, ranchers and loggers who penetrated the far west mountain region and steep Pacific slopes. Over all, Canada's varied human elements from different backgrounds constantly had to adapt and respond to the demanding problems of environment. That, indeed, is rooted in Canadian experience. We simply need to be reminded of it by history; once again, today.

Accordingly, the course of that history can best be introduced here, at the start, by looking at each of the great Canadian regions in which it grew, surveying them in turn from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Archaeology does indicate that the original native peoples of Canada (or rather, their remote ancestors) came the other way: crossing from Asia to Alaska perhaps more than ten thousand years ago, during the last ice age, when a land bridge extended between Siberia and Alaska. Over more thousands of years they spread on into the Americas. And as the enormous ice sheets melted, their hunting cultures occupied the Canadian land-mass from Arctic to Atlantic. The archeological record of this oldest human heritage in Canada now lies in the ground, while the present native peoples form living testimony to the prehistoric past. And yet the Canada we know today is crucially a historic product of the far later arrival of Europeans around 1500 A.D., to start their own advance westward across the continent. More than that, these European venturers brought the art of writing as we know it, and thus recorded history, for better or worse to replace vague ages of prehistoric time. And so our own opening survey of Canada's environmental heritage in history will start, as did the intruders from Europe, with the Atlantic region; and then move west from there.

Environment and Canadian Regions

In terms of history, Atlantic Canada would come to include the coastal or maritime provinces of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and little Prince Edward Island, along with the big sea-isle of Newfoundland that lay across the ocean approaches to the mainland. In environmental terms instead, this was a region of ancient, worn-down mountains, lined with valleys which the sea had penetrated deeply, past jutting headlands into sheltered coves and harbours. Inland, the valleys were hemmed by high rock ridges, rough, hard terrain that in New Brunswick rose northward to the crests of the Appalachian ranges, a formidable barrier between the Atlantic region and the rest of Canada beyond. But seaward, the open waters gave ready access all around the shores, or carried Maritime and Newfoundland ships to Old or New England, to the Caribbean and the Mediterranean as well. The chief cities of the region were seaports first and foremost: St. Johns, closest to Europe on the eastern edge of Newfoundland, Halifax, the main naval base fronting Nova Scotia, or busy, ship-building Saint John on New Brunswick's southern shore. Moreover, prolific fishing grounds along the coastline, extending far out into the Atlantic off Newfoundland, supplied a basic livelihood for the hardy peoples who developed in this sea-domain. Saltwater and safe harbours, fishing and ocean commerce, would enter vitally into the Canadian Atlantic heritage.

Nevertheless, the land, too, offered its returns. Aside from pockets of good agricultural soils scattered through it, there was the long and lovely Annapolis Valley of western Nova Scotia, where thriving farms stretched far along the slopes of the North and South Mountains that guarded it on either side. Or there were the fertile "intervales" that bordered the Saint John, Atlantic Canada's greatest river, which rose in the Appalachian highlands, flowed down the western side of New Brunswick through picture-perfect country, and emptied into the Bay of Fundy by the city of Saint John. Above all, there was Prince Edward Island, the "million-acre farm": a pastoral isle of gentle hills, lush green fields, red soil and sandy shores, set like a gem amid the blue Gulf of St. Lawrence.

It was still the case that a good deal of the Atlantic territory would not favour agriculture. Given the frequently thin soils and cool, damp oceanic climate, farmsteads in the region -- especially in Newfoundland -- were often limited to root or fodder crops and pastures; largely serving just to supplement fishing and other pursuits. Yet there were also mineral riches within the land which would be tapped in Nova Scotian coalfields, particularly on Cape Breton Island, iron and copper ores in Newfoundland, or coal and base metals in New Brunswick. Much more extensive activities, however, were to arise in lumbering: through cutting timber or pulpwood from the vast evergreen forests that covered so much of this Atlantic area.

Great trees that had taken centuries to grow, even in a moist, cool climate, often left only scrubby bush behind them. A resource which indeed looked inexhaustible for many years proved, ultimately, not to be so. Yet lumbering would nevertheless long flourish in Atlantic Canada, and especially in New Brunswick. In Newfoundland, the shore forests were fairly early cut off for fuel, shelter and ship-building, while the interior of the island proved difficult of access, thanks to its steep rock barrens, and tangled, marshy lowlands. Nova Scotia -- with no wide inlands -- also saw more limited lumbering activities. But in New Brunswick, spreading well northward to the Appalachian barrier, there were broad pine forests of superb height and prime value: made accessible to lumbermen by major waterways like the Saint John or Mirimichi that carried the big timber out for export overseas. And so Atlantic Canada, because of its environment, also built a celebrated lumber heritage; from Paul Bunyan, the giant woodsman hero of lumber-camp legends, to the very real mills, ships and business fortunes that appeared around the coasts.

So much for the Atlantic lands -- if hardly sufficient still. Beyond them, on the other side of the Appalachian barrier, the great St. Lawrence River stretched from the Gulf of St. Lawrence westward into the very core of the continent. Along the farspread lower river, its shores were but distant lines seen across the surging waters. Yet by the time the site of the present city of Quebec was reached (already well upstream) the shores were closing in; though still wide apart by the standards of more usually "big" rivers. From here, from Quebec to the site of Montréal, the St. Lawrence flowed in mid-course through broadly fertile countrysides that rolled down to its banks: the heartland of rural French Canada to be, and of the future, powerful province of Quebec. Then above Montreal, where the Ottawa plunged down from the northwest to join the main river, the upper St. Lawrence took its own way west, past foaming rapids and rocky islets until it came to Lake Ontario, and the start of the whole magnificent chain of the Great Lakes.

The river itself here ended, in what would ultimately become the province of Ontario. Yet the great water highway ran right on: through Lakes Ontario, Erie and St. Clair, across the Upper Lakes, Huron and Superior, to cease at last just west of the head of mighty Lake Superior. At that limit, however, other nearby streams opened further routes onward to the west and north; even across the wide interior plains and into the Rocky Mountains. In sum, this all-important St. Lawrence-Great Lakes pathway of communications offered a trunkline that could link much of the giant Canadian land-mass together -- beginning with canoes, moving on to sailing craft and steamboats, then to railroads and automotive highways. Here was a fundamental gift of the environment that all but destined Canada as a community in history.

Around this key St. Lawrence artery lay one of the most significant natural regions in Canada: the St. Lawrence Lowlands. This long reach of favoured territory, favoured in soil, climate and location, extended in a fairly narrow band for some nine hundred miles, from the vicinity of Quebec City to the southwestern tip of the present province of Ontario along the Detroit River and Lake St. Clair. Thus this strip would come to hold the most populous and closely developed parts of central Canada, Southern Quebec and Southern Ontario. Its tall stands of oaks, elms, maples and other deciduous trees early led to prosperous lumbering. Its ample rainfall and mild climate (by Canadian standards, but notably so in the "sun parlour" districts from the Niagara Peninsula on westward above Lake Erie) fostered high-value farming on the region's generally good soils. And the close presence of the St. Lawrence-Great Lakes water highway gave it effective access to outside markets and supplies. As a result, the St. Lawrence valley and inter-lake plain produced solidly thriving farms and rural businesses; and, over time, populous, large cities like Quebec, Montréal and Ottawa, Toronto, Hamilton or London, along with major concentrations of industry and wealth. Compared with the total vastness of Canada beyond, this was a rather limited territory. Yet thanks especially to environmental factors, the St. Lawrence Lowlands would emerge in history as the country's most powerful and centrally dominant area.

Nevertheless, to northward -- beyond well-groomed farmlands that would raise peaches, grapes and corn, as well as apples, grain or dairy herds -- past quiet, tree-shaded towns of stone or brick, or crowded cities pulsing with factories and traffic -- there was and is a far, far wider realm of outthrust ancient rock, high, rolling ridges and dense evergreen forest, of dark muskeg swamps and countless lonely lakes: the Precambrian Shield. Here is an enormous natural region immeasurably older than the last ice age, which covers most of the province of Quebec above the St. Lawrence Valley right from the Atlantic coasts of Labrador to Hudson and James Bays, extends onward through Northern Ontario and spans the upper half of Manitoba as well. Across Northern Ontario and into Manitoba, the Hudson Bay Lowlands edge the north side of this Precambrian mass. They are clothed in woods and bush much like the Shield country, but are generally low and flat, without great rocky outcrops. Then the Shield itself sweeps on to west and north beyond Manitboa, curving up towards the Arctic Ocean. The whole Precambrian region is hence much bigger than the two big provinces of Quebec and Ontario, although it forms by far the largest part of each of them.

And the Precambrian Shield would prove vital in moulding Canada. Its abundance of fur-bearing animals, particularly the beaver, strongly shaped the historic fur-trade: a collaboration of native peoples and European venturers which would span the continent to Arctic and Pacific. The Shield's mineral riches (in gold, silver, copper, nickel, uranium and much more) would give this rugged land still greater value; as would its water wealth of lakes, streams and hydro-electric potential. Moreover, its forest resources in all kinds of lumber, and in pulpwood used for paper-making, were to gain international importance in Canadian trade. But still further, the dramatic brilliance of the Precambrian landscape -- of towering granite bluffs, deep forests glinting under sun or snow, of racing waters, quiet lakes and sparkling air -- would inspire a whole succession of artists, authors and nationalists, who found the very essence of Canada in this True North strong and free.

In more specific ways, the Shield country of both Quebec and Ontario played a major role in their own historic development within Canada. Indeed, it made each province a virtual empire with its own great northern resource-domain to exploit. Hence, out of this North Country and down to the dominating St. Lawrence Lowlands, flowed fur, timber and pulp supplies; precious or base metals, electric power and still more. In return (whether as fair exchange or not), the North got investment capital, markets and technology, settlers, expertise and infrastructure. Consequently, in Northern Quebec big pulpwood and metal complexes appeared from Lac St. Jean and Chicoutimi (up the broad Saguenay well east of Quebec city) to Noranda-Rouyn on the Quebec-Ontario margins, where gold-copper mines would long bulk large. In Northern Ontario, aside from booming silver and gold strikes near the Quebec border, mining centres spread west to the Sudbury Basin, a focus of world-ranking nickel production; to iron mines that fed the steel mills at Sault Ste. Marie on the Upper Lakes transport system; and to further iron fields or other mineral workings north and west of Lake Superior. Moreover, the Ottawa valley also developed as a major route into the tremendous pine and spruce, birch and hemlock stands across the Shield; while in general terms, the forest and mineral heritages of both Quebec and Ontario would play a large part in making them the leading provinces they were to become in Canada, on down to the present day.

All this can only sketch the regional environment of Central Canada -- occupied by two provinces, Quebec and Ontario, that shared much the same basic geography, but would be shaped in history by different French or English-speaking heritages. It is time, however, to move our survey further westward, to the Great Plains region of Canada, popularly termed "the Prairies". Layered deep in fertile soil, once the bed of ancient seas, this huge plains territory stretched northward from the American border between the Shield and the Rocky Mountains, across the "Prairie" provinces of Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta, and on through the North West Territories to the Arctic tundra. But here was no monotonous, unvaried, flat expanse. In the south lay actual prairie, a treeless grassland widely suitable for raising cereals like wheat; sometimes level, but very often boldly rolling country. In southwestern Saskatchewan the prairies thus rose into the high and beautiful Cypress Hills; in western Alberta, their grassy foothills climbed up towards the Rockies, offering open range for thousands of head of cattle; while east on the Manitoba plains they edged broad waters like shimmering Lake Winnipeg. And north of flowery prairie meadows spread the parklands belt, with its sheltering groves of trees to invite farm settlement. Beyond again, were full northern forests of evergreens, finally ending in subarctic bush and tundra. In truth, the Great Plains offered plentiful variety.

Yet some things were present there throughout. There was a sense of unlimited space, where crystal-clear horizons reached to the very curve of the globe; an awareness of sky, enormously arching, that foretold sun or storm, frost or blizzard, to hunting Indians or pioneering farmers alike exposed to a natural immensity beyond control. And there was distance and isolation, to draw small human beings together in common efforts amid the awesome sweep of plains. Here, then, was another Canada, too little perceived by those beyond it; but perhaps also leading those within it not to look very much outside.

The plains country could be harsh in climate, for all its deep fertility. Hot summers, at times in scorching cycles of drought, or bitter, windswept winters might gravely damage western farm crops; while distance from export markets could impose costs and uncertainties on even bumper harvests. Nonetheless, this mid-continental land became and remained a world wheat granary, where a host of little grain-elevator hamlets served farmers and collected their prairie gold to forward to market. In modern eras it has been chiefly linked to outside supplies and markets by the transcontinental railway lines, though automotive highways now play their part. But far earlier, in aboriginal ages and through fur-trading days, main water routes were vital: like the Saskatchewan River, whose long North and South Branches cross the plains from the Rockies and ultimately feed into Hudson Bay; or the mighty Mackenzie, the longest river in North America after the Mississippi, which stems from tributaries in northern Alberta, then runs northward from Great Slave Lake across the North West Territories to empty through the wide Mackenzie delta into the Arctic Ocean. Riverways and open prairies hence made the Great Plains widely traversable; whether for their original native peoples or the European newcomers who followed them.

In time, the course of history enlarged the region's economic activities. Wheat-farming would unquestionably remain basic, from southern Manitoba to the Peace River country of northern Alberta; though crops like sugar beets and canola (used considerably for its edible oil) also brought more diversity to agriculture. Cattle-ranching, besides, flourished from the Alberta foothills back into Saskatchewan; while lumbering advanced in more northern forest areas, and even commercial fishing was far from insignificant in major freshwaters like Lake Winnipeg. Above all, however, large-scale mining activities developed as well. The plains assuredly would yield great quantities of oil and natural gas (especially but by no means exclusively in Alberta), of potash and uranium in Saskatchewan, and metal ores notably in Manitoba. Furthermore, manufacturing and service industries grew also in major cities of the region. Among these are Winnipeg, Manitoba's transport gateway to the Plains West; Regina and Saskatoon, the top commercial centres in Saskatchewan; Edmonton, Alberta's key to the wide North above it; and Calgary, chief focus of the foothills, initially of the cattle trade, but now of the high financial world of Canadian oil. Together such leading cities express the present drive and power of the Prairie provinces, grown far from their pioneer beginnings. Beyond that, these urban places still mark the geography and history of the Great Plains, which always loom so tellingly around them.

West of the Plains, the mountainous Cordilleran region extends to the Pacific. The Cordilleras, enormous chains of mountains, march up the whole western side of the Americas: from the bottom of South America along the colossal Andes to Central America and Mexico, on across the western United States to Canada, and then north through the province of British Columbia and the Yukon Territory to end at last at the Arctic coasts of Yukon and Alaska. In Canada, the heights of the Rocky Mountains (the easternmost and loftiest of the North American ranges) form both the continental divide between Atlantic and Pacific-flowing waters, and the boundary line between Alberta and British Columbia. Beyond these snow-crowned mountains, and within British Columbia, lies the low Rocky Mountain Trench -- a slash of wide open valley that reaches from below the Montana border nearly up to the Yukon, and provides streambeds for giant westward-flowing rivers. Chief of these are the Columbia, whose long, curving course finally takes it out to the Pacific through the American State of Washington; and the turbulent Fraser, which turns north, then west, to break through further mountain ranges and reach the British Columbian coast. But beyond the Rocky Mountain Trench, the further ranges westward include the Selkirks, the Purcells and the Cariboo. Then comes the high Interior Plateau of central British Columbia, broad, dry uplands sometimes wooded, but widely supplying good ranching country. Beyond again, other towering peaks rise in the Cascade and Coast Mountains that edge the Pacific shores of British Columbia. Even this is not the total. On Vancouver Island, the big forested isle just off the mainland, more mountains climb; as they do in the faraway and lovely Queen Charlotte Islands farther northward up the Pacific coastline.

The rugged Pacific Coast, a domain of giant trees, spectacular fiords and rich fishing grounds, is virtually a natural region in itself. Here prevailing winds off the Pacific shed their rain clouds on the coastal mountain slopes, to support a temperate rainforest of monumental Douglas firs, western cedars and other luxuriant growths. On southern Vancouver Island in particular -- set in a sun pocket behind the Island range -- British Columbia's capital, Victoria, enjoys the earliest springtimes in Canada, with a profusion of flowers that lasts practically around the year. On the nearby mainland, the West Coast business metropolis of Vancouver has much the same mild climate, if somewhat wetter, amid its own surrounding bowl of mountains. But inland, past the fertile Fraser delta and Lower Mainland area that centres on Vancouver, the steep mountain country of snowfields, crags and high plateaus presents a much harsher, colder terrain. Hence travel across the Cordilleran region has always involved formidable difficulties and exacting transport costs.

Mountain rivers could be too violent to navigate. Indian bands and fur-traders' pack trains then picked their way instead along narrow canyon trails, and climbed overland through high passes that might well become blocked by winter snows. The transcontinental railways that came later still had to deal with steep gradients and high running costs (thus the "mountain differential" on their rates); not to mention expensive tunnelling and massive snow-sheds to ward off avalanches. And still later, trunk highways might no less be swept and blocked by snowfalls -- as from time to time they have been. Travel north-south, along valleys between the ranges, could be relatively easy by comparison. But east-west linkages were something else: which inevitably had a major impact through Canadian history, not only on problems of binding a whole transcontinental union together, but on the relative separation of the Far West behind its mountain ramparts.

Still, the valleylands between the ranges were often warmly sheltered and well-watered; while irrigation from mountain streams above could spread croplands further up high, semi-arid slopes. This was certainly the case in the Okanagan districts of the interior, where grapes, peaches, and other fruit would most successfully be cultivated. And so, although the Cordilleran region, over all, could not become a major agricultural area like the Great Plains, it did develop remarkably productive farming, often specialized and of high worth. As well as farming, of course, widespread ranching grew across the interior uplands from early years of settlement. But mining would prove still more historically important -- in launching both British Columbia and the Yukon as organized territories. Gold strikes up the Fraser River, then on into the Cariboo country, led to the very creation of the province of British Columbia in the mid-nineteenth century; while the world-famed Klondike gold rush northward late in the century brought the Yukon Territory into being. Gold finds in time subsided (though there were others, right across the region). While less dramatic mining activities took on increasing and more enduring weight: from silver-lead mines and coal fields in the British Columbian interior to copper in the Yukon. Particularly, the great smelters at Trail near the inland American border, and the lead-zinc-silver deposits at Kimberley in the Kootenay mountains of the south-east, attained world-wide significance. Cordilleran rock was mineral-rich. Hence the region's history was constantly to be related to its mining heritage.

That history would equally relate to Far Western logging: a west-coast term that came effectively to replace "lumbering" throughout the region. Logging within the interior, in long, forested valleys or in various wooded upland areas, would prove very far from negligable, well up to Prince George, B.C. Yet logging in the great coastal rain forests bulked a good deal larger. Here the mammoth trees were cut and dropped into ocean fiords, for shipping by tug-drawn rafts to coastal or island mills. But the early years of hauling the timber down to waterline by oxen led on to steam donkey-engines, or to logging railways that took out still more of the giant wood. Today heavy trucks on logging roads handle the task. Still, it all adds up to another West Coast use of costly (if crucial) means of transport to carry its resources out to world markets far beyond. Fishing, too, especially for salmon in bountiful coastal waters, further came to serve world markets. The can of "B.C. Salmon" would become well known from Europe to Australia.

Apart from West Coast mining, logging and fishing, sizeable processing and industrial activities also developed across the area, most fully in Vancouver. Wood- working plants and lumber mills, fish canneries, shipyards and other factory enterprises, would appear from Vancouver or Victoria to Prince Rupert on the Skeena, well north along the Pacific coast. But the chief transport, commercial and investment services within this wealthy region -- pushing its interests well eastward into the Prairies -- centred in Vancouver's skyscrapers and its busy port. Here, indeed, is now the fastest-growing area of Canada, as its links across the Pacific to Asia expand steadily. Altogether, in what must remain an incomplete examination of the Canadian Far West, this is a region to wonder at: of dazzling white snow lines and shadowed green forests, of blossoming valleys, turquoise mountain lakes, and high, brown uplands -- a land of natural splendour, yet also of vibrant human achievement.

The Arctic lands, which form a final quarter of all Canadian territory, have their own splendour and severity. They lie north of the treeline in a realm of permafrost, where the sub-surface ground stays constantly frozen; yet where thick mats of tundra vegetation mosses, flowering plants and shrubs like dwarf willows and birch extend in every direction, interspersed with shallow pools and lichen-crusted bedrock. This treeless tundra, low and wind-scoured, has in part been termed the Barren Lands; though no name could be more inadequate. True, its season of growth following the grim severity of winter is both rapid and short. But then radiant flowers of every colour explode across the tundra, where bird, animal (and insect) life grow equally exuberant, and where trickling waters, a brilliant sun of twenty-four hours' duration, and cool, fragrant breezes make the Arctic summer utterly worth waiting for. Furthermore, even in the long, black winters, when ripples of hard snow encase the land itself, the plentiful life of the neighbouring seas, in fish or seals and other marine animals, has effectively supported a sturdy native population; one that knew the icy wilderness for its food-rich offerings as well as its bleak rigours.

This Arctic North in Canadian heritage (really comprising several related natural regions) extends from Ungava, at the northern tip of Quebec, across the wide shorelands surrounding Hudson Bay and on westward along the northern continental seacoasts to the borders of Alaska. But well above these mainland Arctic or Subarctic areas lie the huge islands of the Arctic Archipelago, which makes the closest Canadian approach to the North Pole. In the east, past neighbouring Greenland, there is Baffin Island, Canada's largest island and the fifth largest in the world; spectacular in its high rim of Precambrian mountains and giant ice-fields looming over gravel slopes and tundra as the cadmium, zinc and lead mines of Nanisivik. Beyond and above Baffin, Ellesmere Island carries Canada's northern limits to some 7 000 kilometers from the Pole. No less spectacular in mountains, it is edged by deep-cut fiords or permanent ice-shelves, and is largely a polar desert in itself. Yet even Ellesmere holds modern polar stations like Eureka and Alert, a lasting Inuit community, and evidences of human occupation dating back 4 000 years. West and south of Ellesmere, other large islands of rock and tundra spread through ice-choked waters to the Beaufort Sea off Yukon and Alaska. Here along the Beaufort there are no more great islands; but here as well, a past century of whaling has now been overtaken by modern drilling for oil from man-made islets set in shallows near the mainland; not to mention projected natural-gas pipelines to run southward from the shores.

Plentiful in whales or caribou, walrus or musk ox, foxes, hares or ptarmigan, the stark domain of the North was never simple or the same. It was desolate, but strikingly rich and beautiful; overpowering in harsh dangers, yet delicately fragile in life-balances: truly a land of constant contradiction. In any event, the Arctic lands had known prehistoric humankind for thousands of years before historic man first entered there from Europe. And with the rise of the fur trade, European invaders indeed opened their own way into the midst of the American continent from these northern expanses. The cold inland ocean of Hudson Bay could be reached by ships sailing from the Atlantic. In the later seventeenth century, fur-traders of the English Hudson's Bay Company became established on the margins of the Bay, spreading European contacts westward and southwestward -- inland from the northern seacoasts of future Ontario or Manitoba-to-be. As a result, the North would long provide a seaway into the Canadian interior, which thus was entered not just from the east, but from northern coastal bases also. To summarize, the Arctic Northlands did not just recently come into Canadian growth in terms of their oil, natural gas and mineral wealth, but actually run far back into history, and in prehistory, a great deal further. The last and remotest of Canada's regions is in many ways among its first as well.

These, then, comprise the six main historic regions in Canadian past experience and present life, all of them deeply shaped by the physical forms and conditions of the land itself: the largely tundra world of the Arctic and Subarctic North, the Atlantic East, Quebec and Ontario dividing Central Canada between them, the Plains West, and the Cordilleran Far West. Unquestionably, all six of the great segments were based on natural regions; but on such regions as grouped or interrelated by human history. And so the whole Canadian community would grow within these regional historic units, and within their member-provinces, in a process which continually revealed the magnitude, the richness, of the environmental heritage they held.

The Limits of the Land

Yet one must always recall that this huge inheritance was not just a ready store of wealth open for the taking, of unbounded resources leading to inevitable "progress". The limits of Canada's environment were real and unrelenting. Human mischance or mistake could bring disaster; the best of plans and efforts might be tossed aside by incalculable physical forces; and the misuse of natural bounties, through ignorance, waste or simply human greed, in the long run could cost dearly -- even to the very ruin of environment. There is room here for only a few illustrations, among which aspects of climate must stand out. Above all, there are the limits set by cold, in a country that would be called The Lady of the Snows.

The Arctic Northlands, of course, present the most striking example: one quarter of Canada that generally cannot grow trees, not to mention arable crops; that is shrouded in snow and ice for most of the year, and is underlain by permafrost -- which, if melted, can cause buildings or pipelines to shift and subside in soft mud. This is not to say that such largely technical problems cannot be met (at costs), or that the North does not have wider values beyond providing brief tundra pastures for herds of caribou. Yet the limitations of Canadian climate are also apparent elsewhere. They are very evident in high, bleak Cordilleran country where glaciers still persist, or in many western ranching areas swept by winter blizzards. Certainly sub-zero cold also pervades a wintry Precambrian Shield and touches East Coast lands. And even in the more moderate St. Lawrence Lowlands, frosts and heavy winter snowfalls may cause serious crop damage from time to time. Yet most vulnerable, in a sense -- because it so strongly relies on agriculture -- is the Plains West with its vast, fertile grainfields. Not just the early frosts that wither ripening crops, but sleet, hail or drought may also do broad harm. In any case, crop insurance and government aid to stricken western farmers form parts of the realities of Plains life: bound in by a climate that can be hot enough, cool enough, rainy enough, and dry enough -- but all too often, not enough at the right time.

The restrictions of climate appear in other ways besides. Indeed, Canada's temperature range, even in its milder regions, imposes a constant annual expense for heating homes and workplaces beyond what is required in the more southerly United States, let alone in warmer climes elsewhere. These higher costs of heat energy (and of lighting, too, for the longer northern dark of winter) inevitably load heavier charges on the work and products of Canadians as compared with many foreign competitors. So do the greater expenses of keeping highways and railways open through repeated snows, dealing yearly with ice-bound city streets, or even with rust and weather damage to vehicles and routes. Without doubt, King Winter (who came as a shock to many earlier European settlers in Canada) still sets his burdens and his sharp constraints upon the country -- however one may revel in crisp ski-holidays under bright winter sun and sparkling skies. Climate limits Canada, moreover, in the very range of crops it can produce; which may result in close dependence on a relative few great staples. Traditionally, we have grown huge quantities of wheat, but far less corn than on warmer American farmlands -- aside from no cotton, oranges or sugar cane! Over all, in consequence, we have known world standing in yields of grain, wood, and many minerals; but our climate has imposed a narrower base on agricultural products generally; and has plainly weighed on transport and manufacturing economies as well.

Limits of resources are quite as evident as restraints of climate; although it is no less clear that cold Arctic, Shield or Cordilleran country can still be immensely resource-rich, for all their lacks in farmland. But natural resources are not infinite, even in Canada; not even so-called renewable kinds like forest or water wealth. As for the unrenewable sorts, not many people need to be told that mines do finally run out, or soils do lose fertility -- especially thin, abused or neglected soils. Yet it remains surprising how many Canadians have believed that their mine, their livelihood, their very town and factory, would never fail (at least not in their time), or that their own farms would go on forever, whatever the mounting signs of worn-out land. Human wishes, failings or simple indifference no doubt have entered here. But so also did a great myth, dating virtually from European settlement, that Canada's natural resources truly were unending, and there was always more good country somewhere out there -- a factor in the historic westward frontier movement across North America. Yet European minds, dazzled by sheer space and a galaxy of resource discoveries, took very long to accept that even a wilderness continent might eventually run short of new bonanzas. Perhaps only in the last few decades have the Canadian public come increasingly to recognize that there is no limitless bailing-out, no more "countless" forests or "inexhaustible" wealth always waiting in the ground -- and that, as Mark Twain did note long ago, they aren't making any more land. At any rate, the limits to non-renewable resources have but lately been marked by Canadians, despite many bitter consequences through past history.

But what of forests, waters, or at least well-tended soils -- are such resources as these not renewable? Possibly, with proper understanding, care and support; though failure to watch the vital limits can spell destruction, too. Forests do not quickly or easily recover from lumbering, even with re-planting, all too often done inadequately. Furthermore, clear-cutting, total tree-demolition, may seem economic for big lumber corporations with an eye to maximizing profits and dividends; but it can disrupt the whole complex ecology of the woodlands. And reforesting with a few chosen species for future cutting, widely produces unvaried forest weak against a mass of rival natural forces. In fact, from Ontario to British Columbia clear-cutting has brought intense contraversy over its waste, ugliness, and lasting damage. In terms of short-range enterprise, clear-cutting may seem an instance of efficient, cost-saving technology. But technology, a powerful servant, can prove a ruthless master.

Another instance may lie in dragger fishing off Newfoundland -- clear-cutting at sea -- by big ships drawing deep nets which literally clean off the North Atlantic ocean shelves, taking not just mature cod, but fish too young to have spawned and other species just to be thrown away, so hence reducing the future fish supply as well as ripping up the feeding bottoms. In short, cost-effective(?) technology, here despoils the future for quick, immediate gains. This is the sort of problem, also, which afflicts the use of supposedly unlimited freshwaters inland. Dams may be built to supply hydro-electric power or provide waters to irrigate dry lands for crops. The technology here seems surely positive in purpose. And yet -- the frequent destruction of life-bearing wetlands in the process, the flooding of other useful areas, or the constant irrigation of soils so that over the years they actually build up killing salts from the evaporation of the water brought in, further show how very often we do not realize the continuing presence of environmental limits, which may only be transgressed at peril.

Finally, there are other damages by which we constantly restrict the natural wealth of the environment: the dangerous pollution of freshwater sources by industrial and human wastes, the garbage land-fills piled up in countrysides, the tree-killing acid rain that spreads from big mining smelters or many factory stacks, and the toxic fumes that collect above our urban centres from their mass concentrations of cars and buildings. None of this is pleasant. All of it is grave -- and amounts to deadly constraints which we ourselves have set upon the giant land, to affect our whole heritage and history. But here we must leave the enduring question of limits, to turn to the original inhabitants of Canada: who showed much keener awareness of the natural environment, and did much less harm to it, both through their ways of life and far less powerful technology. Accordingly, we move from the inheritance of the land to its first occupying peoples, the Indians and the Inuit.

Copyright © 1999 Canadian Heritage Gallery