Volume XVI Number 4 August, 1994
Published for members of the Center for Wooden Boats
The Adventures of Johan Niklasson For a number of years I have been fascinated about the American Northwest coast, the Native culture and the undestroyed nature. One day I knew I would be there. In the end of March I finally made it to Seattle. To see what I wanted to see required a vessel of my own. Before, I had been paddling long distance too much. My wrists got sore. No more paddling for me the doctor said. Here I have come up with another idea. I bought myself a second hand canoe, paddled it to the Center for Wooden Boats and asked for some help to put on a sail and outriggers. The help I got was over my wildest expectations. After about a week I was off to new adventures. I was forced to go to Bellingham for some adjustments, then I was free like the bird, rather like the whale. The first week on the sea was marvelous. Southerly winds and a lot of sun. It was hard to find a camping spot all the way to Campbell River and Prince Rupert, British Columbia, except for a small place called Wagisla, generally referred to as Bella Bella. Instead of people there are wild animals - wolves, black bears, sea lions and dolphins. With all of them 1 had encounters of less than 10 meters. I had a black bear trying to get into my tent and a pack of wolves hunting deer just outside my tent. Because my tent can have a fire inside it I think the animals didn't feel my smell because of the smoke. When I got to Prince Rupert I managed to get a lift to Rose Harbor on the southern tip of Queen Charlotte Islands. South Moresby was magical. There were signs of old Native villages everywhere and the forest contained huge old trees. Here the black bear population was very dense but I only had serious problem with one of them.
The bear didn't want to leave my tent alone even with my shouting, so I fired my rifle in the air, and the bear took off. I wanted to live as much as possible off nature. Now I am tired of eating fish and shellfish, especially shellfish, because I ate a mussel with red tide in it. I got really sick for a while. After 2-3 weeks on the Charlottes, I decided to continue on into Alaska. I considered taking a shortcut on the outside of an Island. The weather looked good so I went for it. After a while the wind started picking up. I felt a shiver down my spine. The coast was all rocks. The route didn't look very nice to me. Because of the waves I was forced to go with them. The slightest wrong angle resulted in a wave breaking into the canoe. Fortunately the canoe was filled with flotation. I wouldn't go down because of water. No, my enemy was the rocks. Suddenly a gust broke the mast and the sail ripped to pieces. The broken sail got stuck in the outrigger. I had to go up wind to get it loose. I waited for a big wave, after that I turned and pulled the sail up but I was not fast enough. The next wave broke over me. It gave me an inner jolt of fright. I said to myself that if I would survive this I would quit and go home. Luckily I didn't flop over. But the rocks were getting closer and closer. I barely made the next corner. But there it was, my last hope on the other side of the bay, a small beach. The waves were getting higher and higher the closer I got. 1 was afraid of capsizing. When I was almost there I saw a rock 20 meters off shore. I managed to get behind it and had a relatively safe landing on the beach; Otherwise I would definitely have flipped over. When I later reached civilization, 1 1
heard that there had been 50 knot winds that day. I don't think I was out in that strong wind but it sure was some bad weather. After, I sold the canoe up there and hitched back to Seattle. Now, when I am back in civilization, questions appear in my mind: What was I doing up there? Why do I put myself through these things? Well, I think there is some unexplainable force in sailors that just forces us to go out there and be devoured by the elements, not necessarily with our bodies but definitely with our souls. It gives me deep relaxation to the mind that lasts for a long time. When the feeling is gone we just have to go out there again. It is like narcotics, almost impossible to quit. The wind whispers in my ears A song of long forgotten words Telling tales of long forgotten ways It carries me on a journey And there I travel looking Looking breathlessly. - Johan Niklasson
Johan is back in his home in Sweden. He is 25, tall, lithe and was last seen at CWB looking very tanned and with his long, blond hair pulled back in a pony tail. Johan spent his childhood summers sailing and paddling in the Swedish archipelago. He learned a lot of seamanship talking with the boatmen of the islands. Johan has been studying biology and anthropology, but now his academic focus will be traditional Swedish arts and crafts. Johan is a CWB member.