In my dream, I'm standing under the pear tree by the Coast Guard dock, looking out into the sparkling waters of Ganges Harbour. It's May of 2003 and the bright sun is warming the land as summer approaches. Though it's a beautiful early summer day, the harbour lies almost deserted. A couple of decrepit old boats creak at their moorings as a raven lands in the tree above my head. I turn away from the water and look toward the shops and businesses of town. Two or three cars are scattered around the parking lot and a handful of people shuffle around town. They all look the same: dressed in dark clothes, they slump along like old widows.

I ask the raven what's happened. He tells me that the problems began in 1999, but too many people hadn't noticed what was happening, and by the time they did, it was too late. He says there were two factors that contributed to Salt Spring's slide into depression.

The summer of 2000 had been a season of horrors for businesses and tourists alike. With the loss of the Skeena Queen, overloads on the Swartz Bay to Fulford run had become routine. As summer began, they occurred on almost every sailing, and at peak times there were 4 to 6 hour waits. As a result, more and more people abandoned plans to travel to Salt Spring. On top of that, budgetary restrictions at BC Ferries had forestalled promised improvements at Long Harbour, so commercial vehicles and busses still couldn't use that route. By the following summer, word had spread throughout the West about how difficult it was to get here, so the summer of 2001 was a complete disaster for local businesses. The next year, the Ferry Corporation announced that there was no longer a need to increase service, as traffic had decreased substantially.

But the raven told me the Ferry problems weren't the biggest reason for Salt Spring's sickness. "Not by an island mile", said the raven. The real reason was the Texada Land Corporation. They not only destroyed the island's economy, they took a big chunk out of its soul.

Throughout 2000, and into 2001, Texada had stripped their land of trees as quickly and efficiently as they could. The rate at which trees fell exceeded what they had agreed to with the Islands Trust. Yet the Trust had been powerless to stop it. Texada said that the sale of logs was the only source of money they had to make their mortgage payments.

In September of 2001, as Texada was finishing up its logging operations, the mortgage holder announced they were foreclosing. It seems the company hadn't been keeping up with their mortgage payments. Calls to the company's offices went unanswered and the principals were nowhere to be found. An investigation was launched into the financial operations of the company, but it dragged on for several years without ever establishing where the money went.

The value of the scarred land plummeted and the mortgage holders were unable to sell it. For a short while the island joke was: "Don't worry about the economy. Texada will buy the land back in fifty years." But the island seemed to lose its sense of humour soon after.

The raven said that the few tourists and prospective residents who persevered and managed to make it to Salt Spring-despite the lack of ferry service-soon changed their minds. Most didn't even get as far as the Fulford Hall before they stopped. They would gaze along the barren sides of the Burgoyne Valley and up to Mount Maxwell wondering what had happened to this so-called "special place" that had looked so inviting in the glossy brochures.

He said that a few people had tried very hard to do something about it, but there weren't enough of them. Too many others had taken their island for granted and hadn't joined in the battle. If only more of them had risen up and cried "We won't let you ruin our island!" the battle could have been won.

Then the raven said goodbye and flew off across the water. He disappeared sooner than I expected.