Here are some final thoughts from Roaming the Big Land: Flavours of Canada:

Now we (have) travelled to both the western and eastern extremes of Canada–Toe Head in Haida Gwaii and Cape Spear at the northern end of the Avalon Peninsula. On a map they look like the misshapen wings of an awkward, gangly bird. Our Canada. An improbable confederation with an overload of geography, as Mackenzir King noted…and embracing more history than he was prepared to acknowledge. I wouldn’t want to choose between these bookends–or among the treasures stored between them–but the two wings are in some ways alike. They are desolate wilderness outposts, windows that face and greet the wider world…I am thinking of all the wonderful places we have visited, from Haida Gwaii off the coast of B.C. to Cape Spear in Newfoundland, from the Arctic tundra to the tip of Point Pelee, the most southern spot in mainland Canada. Of course, we have been impressed by the country’s regional and cultural variety, but we have also been struck by all the things we share in common, from the stolid, reliably conservative banks on street corners to Tim Horton’s,  Canadian Tire, and Shoppers Drug Mart stores in virtually every town, from hockey, the CBC, and national politics to forests, lakes, ice, snow, transient heat, and infuriating bugs. With Canadians–newcomers and established folk alike–constantly on the move, we have detected as well a broad understanding of other parts of the country by people everywhere. It mitigates somewhat the pride they take in their present homes and their dislike of the old nemeses, Ottawa and Toronto in particular. Across this vast land, we conclude, there is also a common, down-to-earth pragmatic perspective on the world and on Canada’s place in it, devoid of grandiose dreams and expectations. Life to Canadians is a bit of a slog, relieved at times when we display a sardonic, ironic, sometimes black sense of humour. Things could be better, Canadians seem to feel, but at the same time most would acknowledge they could be a whole lot worse. Otherwise (as we were told in Iqaluit), they’d “get the fuck out.”

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