The unsung Trans-Canada Highway: How a road connected a country and changed it forever

Set for release on May 13 with Sutherland House Books, Canada’s Main Street: The Epic Story of the Trans-Canada Highway by Craig Baird finally gives this nation-shaping infrastructure project its due. In this excerpt, Baird introduces the ambitious, messy and overlooked saga of the coast-to-coast highway that is the true spine of modern Canada. The Trans-Canada Highway. We live by it. We drive on it. We depend on it for the goods we use. And yet, we barely think about it. Why? Is it because, for most of us, the Trans-Canada Highway has always just been there? Something we take for granted and don’t think about? With success has come invisibility. Maybe it is because the Trans-Canada feels like history that is too recent. Maybe it needs another century, like the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR), to give it historical context. What a contrast when we think about the CPR — the other cross-country, nation-building transportation system. In 1970, Pierre Berton released his magnum opus, The National Dream. The book told the story of the planning and inception of the CPR, covering the years 1871 to 1881. The following year, he followed up with The Last Spike, which covered the years 1881 to 1885. Those years saw the construction and completion of the CPR. The books galvanized the public. They presented history in a way that was not dryly academic, but something any regular Canadian, even one who thought they weren’t interested in history, could enjoy. They both became instant best-sellers and inspired the CBC’s TV docuseries, The National Dream , which attracted a record three million viewers at a time when Canada’s population was only 22 million. Both books were also critically well-received, with The Last Spike winning the 1971 Governor General’s Award for English-language non-fiction. It seems fitting somehow that the definitive work on the CPR was released at the same time the Trans-Canada Highway was (finally) being finished. The construction of the CPR was an amazing project that changed the history of Canada forever. It was a tale of scandals, greed, needless death and amazing triumphs. It easily overshadows the significance of the Trans-Canada Highway in the eyes of Canadians. There have been no big productions for television or film about the Trans-Canada Highway. Very few books have been written about it and most focused on what you could see travelling it, rather than on how the road was built. Back in 1967, Gordon Lightfoot wrote a song about the CPR, “The Canadian Railroad Trilogy,” one of his greatest works. Has anyone ever written about the Trans-Canada Highway? Maybe the closest we have is “Life Is a Highway,” by Tom Cochrane. To those who created it, however, building the Trans-Canada was every bit as important as the CPR. The construction took longer than the CPR, cost more, and involved negotiations with the provinces that resembled nothing so much as cat herding. It took a year just to get some of the provinces to sign the agreement on the highway and start selecting their routes. Several didn’t sign right away, and Quebec held off for a full decade. The building of the CPR was no easy task politically. There was no single, large company, like the CPR, to oversee the construction of the entire Trans-Canada from coast to coast — just premiers in each province, all wanting to use the highway for their own political ends. Maybe that is why we don’t see the highway for the engineering marvel that it is. It doesn’t even seem much in comparison to the story of the Alaska Highway , built in only months during a time of war. Yet, it was built — far behind schedule and well over budget, but it got done. To those who use the highway, it has been enormously consequential. People say that the United States is a country built by the automobile, but Canada can make that claim as well. We are much larger, and much more sparsely populated, and the highways we build truly connect all of us, and none more so than the Trans-Canada. It tied the country together as the automobile overtook the railroad as the dominant form of travel during the highway’s construction. As we’ll see, the highway may have altered the country even more than the railway did. When the agreement to build the highway was signed in 1949, Gordie Howe was three years into his legendary career. Bobby Orr was a toddler. When the highway was finally finished, Howe had retired (at least temporarily), and Orr was the greatest NHL star the world had known and a Stanley Cup champion. Medicare , a new Canadian flag , the Trans-Canada Pipeline , and the St. Lawrence Seaway — none of these things existed when work on the highway began. The highway was supposed to be completed in 1957, but only Saskatchewan met that deadline. Most provinces finished in the 1960s, while others completed it in the early 1970s. At times, it must have felt as if it was never going to be finished. In a half-true act of political showmanship, Prime Minister John Diefenbaker tamped down asphalt at the Rogers Pass in September 1962 to announce the highway officially completed. In fact, it was still under construction in places such as Nova Scotia and Newfoundland. In the latter, the majority of the road was still gravel, and it would be another three years before someone could drive clear across the province along the highway. Once all the pieces were built and paved, the Trans-Canada ran coast to coast, covering 7,821 kilometres. For much of its history, it was a two-lane system. Even today, much of the highway remains two-lane. The longest stretch of divided highway runs from the Manitoba-Ontario border to the Rocky Mountains, covering a distance of over 1,500 kilometres. Knowing just how many people use the Trans-Canada Highway today is difficult. In places like Calgary and Vancouver, it runs directly into the city and is used by tens of thousands of people every day to go to and from work, shopping, hockey games, and a multitude of other events. Each year, four million people visit Banff, only accessible from the east and west along the Trans-Canada Highway. According to Statistics Canada in 2021, 77 per cent of goods moved in Canada were transported by truck. Not every truck will take the Trans-Canada Highway, especially through northern Alberta and Saskatchewan, where the Yellowhead Highway is the main route. But almost all goods that arrive in Canada at any of our main ports, excepting Prince Rupert, British Columbia, are going to be on the Trans-Canada at least part of their journey. It doesn’t matter if it is apples and oranges or computers and cars, if a truck is hauling it, it is touching that highway at some point. Of the 15 largest cities in Canada, seven are along the Trans-Canada Highway route. All of that started with the signing of a piece of paper decades ago. Statistics aside, almost every Canadian you meet will have indelible memories of the Trans-Canada. There is likely barely a Canadian alive, famous or not-so-famous, who has not driven along at least part of it. Certainly, far more of us have been on that road than have taken the railway anywhere in Canada. It is the highway on which millions of us have enjoyed family vacations and ambitious road trips, or driven to university for the first time, or moved for a new job. It is the highway that many took to see Expo 67 in Montreal, Expo 86 in Vancouver two decades later, the 1988 Olympics in Calgary, and the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver. It is the road that Terry Fox ran on his Marathon of Hope. It is the path Rick Hansen took on his Man in Motion Tour . At rest stops, rock outcrops, and roadside attractions, the Trans-Canada provides memories to those on their own voyages of discovery. It has seen joy and sadness, death and, likely, a few births. The highway touches two oceans and repasses through many cultures, and even more towns. And as the CPR did in the 19th century, it affirms the idea of a united country. Long gone are the days when a Canadian had to drive through the United States to cover the distance from one Canadian coast to another. I have travelled stretches of the highway more times than I can count, but only once all the way from west to east in a single great journey. Along the way, I saw towns that passed in the blink of an eye, took pictures at the oddest roadside attractions, and drove through some of the most important cities in the country. I have always been fascinated with every aspect of the Trans-Canada, from the pioneers who drove across the country along the highway’s route (or parts of it) before it was built to its crucial role as the main economic and cultural artery of our nation today. This is the story of the highway that changed Canada forever. What does the highway mean? Regardless of whether you consider the Trans-Canada Highway to have been finished in 1962, when it was officially opened, or in 1971 when Newfoundland and B.C. finally finished their last pieces of construction, it was then the longest highway in the world at 7,476 kilometres. That title has long since passed to other roads. The Trans-Canada sits 17th in the world today, having been eclipsed by highways in Africa, Eurasia, China, Russia and Australia. The Pan-American Highway, stretching from Alaska to Argentina, is 30,000 kilometres long, if you ignore the impassible 160-kilometre Darien Gap between Panama and Columbia. Australia’s Highway 1 is almost double the length of Canada’s Highway 1, although it is a system of highways rather than a single road. The Trans-Canada remains the longest single highway in one country in the world and, of course, it is also the longest highway in Canada. Since those early years, the Trans-Canada Highway network has expanded. Today it is much more than one road across the country. Where once there was a single route along the St. Lawrence River in Quebec, now you have a choice of three routes to take you into Ontario: You can drive the northern route through Ontario; pass through Toronto and the other larger cities of Southern Ontario; or visit the nation’s capital. Only one route goes into Manitoba, but in the province, the highway splits into the Yellowhead and main Trans-Canada Highway route that will take you across the prairies and onto the coast of British Columbia. Additionally, the Trans-Canada has been undergoing almost constant improvements since its initial completion. It has been twinned and divided in many high-traffic areas. It has been realigned in some places and bypasses have been built around cities along the route, including Calgary, Winnipeg and Thunder Bay. Safety pullouts and rest areas have been constructed. There are new avalanche controls and snow fences, especially in the Rogers Pass region. Signage has improved. Wildlife fences, overpasses and underpasses have been constructed to minimize the environmental impact of the highway. All these statistics and facts are important to an understanding of the Trans-Canada achievement, but they don’t answer a bigger question: What does the highway mean? Why doesn’t the highway elicit the same wonder in our history as the trans-continental railway? Why isn’t the image of John Diefenbaker tamping down the last bit of highway in the Rogers Pass on the same level as the Sir Donald Smith driving in the last spike on the highway? Some may say it comes down to nation-building. The CPR is seen as something that linked the entire country for the first time. It spurred the movement of people into Western Canada, at the expense of the First Nations, who were pushed to reserves. The railroad literally created communities on the prairies and made it possible to travel across the country in days, rather than weeks or months. Yet the Trans-Canada Highway has done its share of nation-building. It has changed the shape of Canada, stimulating growth in communities and helping them prosper, while dooming others to disappear because they did not sit along its route. The Canso Causeway section of the highway connected Cape Breton Island to mainland Nova Scotia for the first time. Confederation Bridge provided the first fixed link between Prince Edward Island and the rest of Canada — something that would not have happened without the Trans-Canada network. Highway 1 through Northern Ontario brought communities such as Wawa out of the wilderness, and the Rogers Pass section of the Trans-Canada made it easy to pass from B.C. to eastern parts of Canada. The highway changed how Canadians travel, and how they experience the country and its scattered communities. There may have been ferries or railways or rudimentary roads and trails that crossed these same parts before the Trans-Canada, but it brought the whole of Canada within reach of anyone with a vehicle or a bus ticket. It gave people the freedom to go where they wanted. They were no longer bound by a single track between towns. They could branch off and explore. The highway has been vital for remote and rural communities, connecting them to larger economic centres. Areas that were once isolated gained better access to health care, education and improved quality of life. The Trans-Canada has been critical for trade, connecting Canada’s major ports, cities and rural areas, enabling the efficient movement of goods across regions. It has provided a sturdier foundation for national and regional economies, supporting sectors like trucking, agriculture and manufacturing by reducing travel times and costs. It also facilitated resource development in areas rich in natural resources, allowing for economic growth in previously inaccessible regions. The highway has made Canadian landmarks, national parks and natural attractions more accessible, encouraging Canadians to explore their own country and drawing international tourists. It has enabled people from different parts of Canada to experience the unique cultures, landscapes and histories within their own borders, fostering a shared national heritage. There were no roadside attractions in the days of the railroad. Today, you can hit hundreds of them along the highway. Some, such as the Wawa Goose or Mac the Moose , are massive; others, including the world’s largest Coca-Cola , are strange. All have their fans. The country needed a universal road that would allow someone from Newfoundland to drive straight to British Columbia without leaving the country, and vice versa. It was needed as much psychologically as it was economically. The Trans-Canada Highway became a symbol of the country’s progress during a transformative time. When work started, Canada was only five years out of a world war, and already diving into a war in Korea. During its construction, Canadians saw the dawn of the television age. Quebec went through a rapid transformation, spurred on by opening itself to the world through Expo 67. That memorable fair was visited by millions of Canadians and for many, it was the Trans-Canada Highway that made it possible. Canada was coming into its own as the highway’s work was finishing. In 1967, as the country finally celebrated itself for possibly the first time in its history, people wanted to learn about their country. And in a move, we can be sure no one planning the highway ever foresaw, that centennial year was full of people who were ready to explore the country by walking along the highway. Hank Gallant , a 24-year-old living in British Columbia, had spent the previous few years working in mines, learning to weld and operate heavy equipment. With the centennial year beckoning, he decided he wanted to do something to celebrate it. He chose a relatively easy task. He was going to walk across Canada. On Feb. 6, 1967, Gallant dipped his toe in the Pacific Ocean, turned to the east and started putting one foot in front of the other. He told his friends about his plan, and they told him he’d never make it. When he asked local businesses for support, they didn’t take him seriously. Eventually, Gallant stopped telling anyone, but he kept walking toward where the sun rose over Canada. He had some food and some clothes in a backpack and a Gibson guitar covered by a flap of canvas to keep it dry. His pack had a hand-lettered sign saying, “Victoria to Bonavista, Centennial 67 Walker. No Rides Please.” Right from the very beginning, Gallant experienced the kindness of strangers. He pulled a ligament in his leg even before getting out of British Columbia. A rancher treated it for him. Near Creston, a couple gave him a homecooked spaghetti dinner. When he reached the outskirts of Cranbrook, 40 people welcomed him. It snowed from there all the way to Alberta, which he reached on March 9. The mountains were far from an easy stroll for Gallant, but he refused to give up. He swore to himself he would complete the journey or die trying. To keep his mind occupied, he wrote songs in his head as he walked. By early April, he had reached Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, and newspapers were starting to take notice of his journey. By Oak Lake, Manitoba, the principal of the local school cancelled all classes so students could greet Gallant as he walked into the community. On May 1, he arrived in Winnipeg and endured his ninth blizzard since leaving Vancouver. He told the Winnipeg Free Press, “I can’t offer any centennial project a thousand bucks. This is what I have to offer as an individual centennial project. It proves to the outside world that Canadians themselves are doing something about centennial, not only governments, with their libraries and statues.” After a few days of working at a meat packing plant in Winnipeg to put some cash in his wallet, he set off again toward the east coast. As he made his way through Northern Ontario along Lake Superior, drivers would go to the next town and buy him a meal at a restaurant to enjoy upon his arrival. When he stepped foot in Montreal, he was given a special tour of the Expo 67 grounds. In late September, he reached New Brunswick, took a ferry to Prince Edward Island, then another to Nova Scotia. On Nov. 13, his 25th birthday, he walked into St. John’s, Newfoundland, and finished his journey after 280 days of walking. “I went to the harbour,” he said. “I took off my boots and my socks and did what I had done on the Pacific Coast at Beacon Hill Park. I dipped my toe in the Atlantic.” Gallant was far from the only person to take a journey across the country that Centennial Year. Filip Moen walked from Halifax to Vancouver with his German Shepard, Bruno. That journey took only 131 days. Stan Guignard took his family in a 1915 Model T from North Bay, Ontario, to Montreal, a distance of 550 kilometres. Kurt Johnson, a 24-year-old gold mine surveyor from Timmins decided 1967 was the best year to see the country. On June 20, in Vancouver, with a scroll that brought greetings from Timmins’ City Council and 1,000 business cards to thank drivers for rides, he stuck out his thumb and got ready to hitchhike across the country. Scarcely a year went by without someone trying to make it across Canada without a vehicle. Far more, of course, made the trip in a car or truck. It is estimated that the highway supports more than 20 million vehicle trips annually. No human being has ever been more closely identified with the Trans-Canada, however, than Terry Fox, a Canadian athlete, humanitarian, and cancer research activist who became a national hero for his remarkable attempt to run the full length of the Trans-Canada Highway on one leg to raise money and awareness for cancer research. Born in 1958 in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and raised in British Columbia, Fox lost his right leg to osteosarcoma in 1977. In 1980, he embarked on the “Marathon of Hope,” aiming to run from St. John’s, Newfoundland, to the Pacific Ocean in Victoria. Fox ran nearly a marathon (26 miles) a day for 143 days, covering 5,373 kilometres, before his cancer returned, forcing him to stop near Thunder Bay, Ont. Although he could not complete his journey and passed away in 1981, his legacy endures, with millions raised annually worldwide for cancer research through the Terry Fox Foundation and annual Terry Fox Runs held in his honour. Terry Fox was the one man who truly linked the highway together from start to finish with his dream of raising money for cancer. The image of him shuffle-hopping along the highway is firmly entrenched in the minds of Canadians. Today, a statue marks the start of his journey in St. John’s, and another marks his destination, the terminus of the Trans-Canada in Victoria, B.C., and a third overlooks the highway near Thunder Bay where the Marathon of Hope came to an end. Fox inspired many people, including British Columbia Paralympian Rick Hansen. He not only completed Fox’s journey down the Trans-Canada in a wheelchair but went on to wheel over 40,000 kilometres through 34 countries between 1985 and 1987, raising money for spinal cord research and accessibility programs. The last leg of his journey saw him wheel across Canada again, this time east to west, culminating in a grand finish in Vancouver. Something special For me, the highway has always been something special. I was born near it in the Foothills Hospital in Calgary. I’ve lived along it in various places during my life. In the early 2010s, I lived in a community called Gull Lake, Sask. It sits right along the Trans-Canada Highway. I remember hearing from seniors in the community how the highway was once just two lanes of gravel, so many years ago. By my time, it was a double-lane highway, with cars driving toward Swift Current in one direction, or Medicine Hat in the other. I would stand out in my front yard at night and look at that highway. When I saw the lights moving along the road, it always felt comforting. It was something to tell me that everything was OK — that as long as that highway existed and people drove along it, the world was OK. I don’t live along the highway anymore, but it is still an important part of my life. Not a year goes by that I don’t make a journey somewhere in Canada along it. And as I drive along, I know that for hundreds and thousands of kilometres in each direction, there are many others doing the same as me. Some drive along the Trans-Canada for work. Some are driving home. And some are just driving the highway to see what the country has to offer. That is the great legacy of the Trans-Canada Highway. It is more than the sum of the political wrangling and the impressive engineering feats that built the road and connected the country. Its legacy is that it allows Canadians to drive from one ocean to another, to see at close range Canada’s scale and beauty, to learn more of its diversity and its people, and maybe, I hope, to feel less divided and remote from those who live over the next hill, around the next bend, or far over the horizon.