So there I was, directed to a boating site. That’s right. But for small boats—mostly wooden ones—boatbuilding, and boating adventures. I used to eat this stuff up, so I clicked around. Soon I was looking at dozens of photos from a guy in Upper Michigan who’d spent last summer sailing this beautiful small craft to places I never knew existed. The boat had just enough room for cooking and sleeping. There were islands of smooth red stone with blue water in between, sandy beaches, and tall green trees; quiet coves where only shallow-draft vessels could go. Had me by the gut there for a long, hard moment, ese. Happens every time.