The scrubby pines, tall grasses and cattails hid the scrappy marina where the Penn-Yan was kept. From the big Causeway Bridge, it was nearly invisible behind the overgrowth of bushes and the broken-down advertising billboards for the Island ahead.

I was 10 years old and ready for a sea adventure with Grammy, Cap, Corinne and Dad on Barnegat Bay. Carefully, I crossed the arched, white, paint-chipped footbridge to the floating dock, and saw the Penn-Yan rocking cheerfully in its stall.