Half a mile off the Connecticut shore, a powerboat cuts through the choppy surf as it nears a 135-year-old lighthouse. “Imagine doing this in a 12-foot rowboat,” says 70-year-old Frank Sciame, one of the boat’s passengers, noting that lighthouse-keepers once rowed to shore.
The boat pulls up to a pile of seaweed-covered rocks, where a small, temporary dock bobs amid the waves. In Top-Siders and a button-down shirt, Mr. Sciame steps onto the dock and grabs a rope to help tie up the boat. Then he nimbly ascends a rickety steel ladder and steps inside the lighthouse, grinning.