Photo: Klemtu’s new Ferry Dock. Just north of town.

I stood on Osprey’s toe rail with the bow line, ready to jump off onto Klemtu’s fuel dock. But as we approached, I realized with horror that the metal bull rail on the dock was twisted and torn.

“Watch out, there may be sharp edges,” I called to Steve.

We both stepped gingerly onto the dock, avoiding the bull rail. But even the concrete foundations of the rails were wobbly. Finding something to tie our lines to was difficult as whole chunks of the rails were loose. Some boat must have really collided with the dock and not just recently as the exposed rebar was rusty.

Minutes before we had passed Klemtu's new ferry dock. With light poles, stone bulkheads and traffic signs, the Ferry Dock looked like it belonged in a city, not this little native village. The contrast between the fuel dock and Ferry Dock was disorienting.

But the important thing was they had fuel and potable water. Our fuel tank supposedly holds 70 gallons but gets narrower toward the bottom and slopes forward. We really don’t know how much of that 70 gallons we can use. We took 57 gallons when the most we had ever taken before was 51.