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Standing on Salt Spring Islands Channel Ridge, one has an expansive view of the Salish Seas Stuart Channel, the northern entrance to Samsun Narrows, and the nearby mountains on Vancouver Island. This is where, in 1985, property developers first envisioned the birth of a European-style village, one that was meant primarily to attract affluent retirees. Given the rapid growth of the population on Salt Spring, described by the local tourism bureau as a nature lovers paradise,1 the idea obviously had its appeal. Today, however, the village site is a barren, rock-strewn landscape that bakes in the hot summer sun with little hint of the ponds and meandering streams envisioned by the planner. The only building that was ever erected alongside the winding roadways is an empty show home that overlooks the spectacular vista, and the only significant sign of Natures recovery amidst the construction debris is swaths of invasive broom (see Figures 1-4). As a newcomer to Salt Spring and a regular walker on Channel Ridge, I began to wonder how the abandoned development site could come into being on an island that has long been experiencing pressure for more population growth. Having written about the rise of anti-development protests in the Howe Sound area,2 and being familiar with Salt Springs environmentalist reputation, I was curious about public reaction to the Channel Ridge development and about the role played by the physical environment in the village projects failure. The first questions this research note addresses, then, are: What happened and why? On a broader scale, it asks what this environmental scar reveals about recent attitudes towards the natural environment and about the relationship between property developers and the wants and needs of the broader community.
Lying within the unceded traditional territories of the Cowichan, Penelakut, and Lyackson First Nations, Salt Spring Island first began to attract settlers in the late 1850s.3 Its salubrious climate, sheltered inlets, scattered lakes, and small farms tucked between forested hills have meant that few places are better suited to the Arcadian myth, with its idealization of places lying "somewhere on the urban fringe, easily accessible and mildly wild."4 This is a vision with roots that stretch back to antiquity, but it is also one that - in one form or...