About three years ago, two young adventurers who now call Helena home began dreaming of a wild adventure of building a sailboat and setting out to sea from Lopez Island, Wash., to Ketchikan, Alaska.

The voyage, 750 nautical miles one way, would take them to both terrifying and magical places.

Perhaps one of the most memorable times, said Becca Leaphart, was one of their final nights before reaching Ketchikan as they rowed a narrow inlet in British Columbia by the light of the full moon.

"That night, everyone's mood was in sync," recalled Leaphart.

The water was phosphorescent.

"Everyone's oar would shimmer. We rowed until 3 a.m. There were wolves howling on shore.

"It was one of the best moments of the whole trip."

Living the dream

But long before that magical moment came the dream.

"I grew up on Lopez Island ... boating has always been part of my life," said Ben Brouwer. "I grew up with a boatbuilder father."

He also grew up hearkening to such calls to adventure -- biking across the United States and biking from Montana to Alaska.

Leaphart grew up in Helena, honing her analytical and linguistic skills.

Her only experience working with wood was helping build sets at Grandstreet Theatre.

And her longest outdoor adventure had been a mere three days in the woods.

The sailboat project "challenged my confidence and my intellect," she wrote in an article published in the March/April issue of WoodenBoat magazine.

In early 2005, Leaphart and Brouwer, both recent graduates of Middlebury College in Vermont, were living together in Providence, R.I., when Brouwer first spoke of his dream voyage.

He envisioned a crew of friends coming to Lopez Island, building a sailboat over a three-month period and then setting sail up the Inside Passage, a network of waterways stretching from Washington to Alaska.

Brouwer's dream apparently had a powerful allure -- seven of the eight crew members would eventually come from the ranks of their Middlebury friends.

The boat would be a simple but elegant craft, operated by sail, wind and oars. No cabin. No motor.

Brouwer's father, Steven, of Hunter Bay Woodworking on Lopez Island, proved more than an ally. He encouraged the venture, offering his tools, shop and considerable boat-building knowledge and skills.

In return for his help, the crew of mostly sailing and carpentry novices agreed to help out on the family sheep farm.

Three climbers, a fellow-sailor and a woodworking friend answered the call July 2005.

Under Steven's guidance, they learned to operate power tools and began making plywood patterns for the frame futtocks, or boat ribs.

Leaphart admits being filled with dread when first operating the bandsaw and other power tools.

Not only did she fear losing fingers, but also ruining valuable pieces of wood, for which they had no replacements.

"I would be so nervous, I'd mess up something."

"This was a whole different type of knowledge that I didn't understand or respect before," she admitted.

Leaphart, however, found she had a special affinity for the block plane, a tool for manually smoothing wood.

After weeks of work, came the memorable night in the workshop when the skeletal boat frame of yellow cedar was finished. It rested upside down with its graceful ribs gleaming in the golden lamp light.

They joyfully tossed sawdust and shavings in the air, creating a cloud of magical dust for their photos of this momentous occasion.

"That night would be ingrained in my memory as the moment we breathed life into our boat," Leaphart wrote.

There were, of course, nonmagical moments.

Hours and more hours and more hours of technical conversations, sawing, fastening planks together with screws, finishing and painting.

By September, their ranks had dwindled. Some crew members had prior commitments and left. The boat building was stretching far beyond the initial three-months they'd all envisioned.

A few continued the project through the winter.

The Tern takes off

And finally, on May 1, 2006, the Tern was christened and launched.

Another month of preparations followed -- organizing food and food delivery by a Lopez Island fisherman at various stops along the Inside Passage. The boat could only carry 20 days of food at a time.

They laid out all the charts of the passageway that had been used by Ben's grandfather.

There were still many final details to complete -- finishing the rudder, sails and spars, and sewing a boom tent to use when sleeping on board.

They practiced -- dread of dreads -- what to do if the Tern capsized.

Then, on June 6, 2006, they finally set sail to the sounds of wind, waves lapping against the boat and the creak of the rigging.

Leaphart would be on the journey north, but fly home from Alaska. Replacements would join the crew in Ketchikan for the journey home.

Some days of the six-week voyage north were sun-filled and easy -- almost boring.

Fishermen and cruisers would share their coffee, catches of salmon or shrimp, as well as knowledge of the area.

When the Tern pulled into a dock, the crew was often greeted by enthusiastic crowds.

"Our boat was like a toy boat," said Leaphart.

It was unusual to sail the route with no engine, relying solely on sail and oars.

"People would come running out to the docks...People were so excited."

They would be treated to pizza and showers and salmon and seafood dinners.

Scary moments

But then there were the other days.

Some were terrifying.

The scariest days came when they reached the north end of Vancouver Island and headed across Queen Charlotte Strait, where they were tossed by 8- to 10-foot waves and lashed by 35 mph winds.

"We spent four to five days in a lot of wind and bigger waves than we ever dealt with," said Brouwer.

"On Queen Charlotte Strait, it was open water," said Leaphart. "We made some dumb decisions to cross when we did. There were no other boats out there.

"It was so scary. I could tell they (Brouwer and fellow sailor Cedar Charnley) were scared and they were yelling all these orders. I should have been scared hours ago."

Waiting out the storm, they found themselves marooned on small beaches, sleeping on piles of driftwood at night, when the beach was under water.

"We were in soggy tents. Everything was dripping," said Leaphart.

When no campsites could be found, they slept in the Tern.

Although they survived the storm's wrath, it deflated their confidence -- for a while.

Leaphart had the unsettling realization that the whole crew was relying on its two most experienced sailors.

"I didn't have the capability to handle it (the boat) if something happened to them," said Leaphart.

The real world

The voyage also proved a social experiment -- six people in a 24-foot boat, on a six-week trip north. At times it proved to be too much togetherness.

"One or two people in a foul mood affects everybody," said Leaphart.

And during parts of the northern trip, she was the only woman with five men.

Even though "they're pretty nice men and very sensitive guys" there were times that gender balance was an issue, she said.

At other times, it was just exhilarating. She felt like Wendy in Peter Pan, heading off into Never-Never-Land to fight pirates.

"We were seeing the coast in a way that most people never see it," she said.

One day, as they searched for a source of clean drinking water, humpback whales rose from the sea around them, frightfully close.

"We followed this one whale for about four or five miles to a really protected island, Green Island, an old, Indian village site," said Leaphart. "It felt like sort of a spiritual experience to follow this whale to the old village site and be completely protected."

They will present a slideshow and talk about their adventure Jan. 7 at 7 p.m. at the Lewis and Clark Library meeting room.

Reporter Marga Lincoln: 447-4074 or marga.lincoln@helenair.com