The last time I boarded a boat, it was a windy summer day. It was a sailboat, and I was joining its crew for what was to be a spectacular race from the Severn River to the Bay Bridge.

But a few minutes in, the waves looked ominous. A weather advisory crackled over the radio. I reached for my Dramamine. Just trust me when I say things did not end well.

So, when the opportunity arose to spend 10 hours touring 10 historic lighthouses deep in the Chesapeake Bay, I was torn. On the one hand, these beautiful beacons are in the midst of a major restoration project, and the only way to see them is from a boat. On the other hand, some experiences don’t need to be repeated.

But Capt. Mike Richards set me at ease. A former naval officer and proprietor of Tilghman Island’s Lazyjack Inn, the 71-year-old has sailed the Chesapeake for three decades. The M/V Sharps Island, a 36-foot former naval vessel, is the same kind of boat used in both the Somali pirate and U.S.S. Cole rescue efforts. And though he concedes that the journey can get a bit rough—“they don’t put lighthouses in safe places,” he deadpans—he thinks the worst that will happen is that we’ll get a bit wet.

As we set out from Knapps Narrows at 8:30 a.m., I study the 11 other passengers’ faces for a fellow traveler, so to speak. Not in this crowd.  Most of them are members of the IMF/World Bank’s photography club, which means they travel the world taking pictures when they’re not traveling the world trying to straighten out the economies of war-torn nations. Another passenger, John Anderson, had his leg amputated a few years ago and swung onto the boat with the help of his wife and his crutches. Then there’s Keith Edwards, a semi-professional photographer who has visited lighthouses all over the world. Lighthouse people, Richards explains, are not fair-weather fans. In seven years, he’s canceled only one tour, and that was because of a tropical storm.

Our first stop is the boat’s namesake, the Sharps Island Light—the Bay’s very own Leaning Tower. Since 1976, when an ice storm battered its crimson caisson, the solar-powered light has listed, resembling a giant buoy. It’s one of the few lights on the tour that is no longer used for navigation, according to Richards’ daughter, Kate, the vessel’s first mate, guide and Jill-of-all-trades.

The Coast Guard once owned and maintained all of the nation’s lighthouses, but after Sept. 11, when the agency’s mission shifted to homeland security, it had neither the funds nor the inclination to keep up these weather-beaten structures. So it began selling them. Most of the lighthouses on Richards’ tour are privately owned, though Coast Guard officers can stop by any time. Sharps Island, bought just a year ago, hasn’t gotten its facelift yet.

But the next one, Thomas Point, is ready for its close-up. Restored a few years ago through a partnership with the city of Annapolis, the Annapolis Maritime Museum, and the local chapter of the U.S. Lighthouse Society, the Bay’s most photographed symbol pops against the blue sky and lapping waves. As Kate tells the group that Thomas Point is the only screwpile light left in its original location, the World Bankers attach their telephoto lenses and focus. I zoom in with my Canon PowerShot and hope for the best.

We glide under the Bay Bridge. On the bow, I get soaked. It feels good, but I soon realize my fleece is around my waist. There go my dry clothes. Fortunately, Capt. Mike lends me his “foul-weather gear,” a comfy orange parka.

We head for the Baltimore Light, near the Magothy’s mouth (nearly all the lights sit where the Bay meets its rivers). The aptly named tower resembles a Federal Hill rowhouse, with its wrought-iron accents and painted brick. (Formstone would have been a nice touch, but probably couldn’t withstand the elements.) Kate tells us four families bought the light; most summer weekends, somebody is out there working on the restoration project.

After lunch at Tolchester Marina, we head north to the Pooles Island Light, Maryland’s oldest lighthouse that is still standing. At 38 feet, this one is not the grandest, but, Kate says, its beauty is in its simplicity: just a whitewashed cone tower made with Port Deposit granite and topped with a cupcake-like cupola. Oh, and it plays hard to get, as it is surrounded by unexploded bombs and stands completely inaccessible to the public as part of the Aberdeen Proving Ground complex. Though some of the privately owned lighthouses will open for tours, Kate jokes that she’ll never get inside Pooles Light unless, somehow, she gets in good with the Army.

Before long, we’re at Sparrows Point, looking at the towers that make up the Craighill family of lighthouses. These four towers lead the way from the Patapsco River into Baltimore’s harbor. They are not as impressive as the earlier lights, but there is still plenty to see here as the rusty remnants of Baltimore’s past meet the gleaming shoreline homes that portend its future.

As I step off the boat into the sunset, I take a brochure and ponder a return trip. I’m not a lighthouse buff—maybe lighthouse-lite?—but I’ve had a lovely day. And, thanks to Capt. Mike, I’ve got my sea legs back.

Lighthouse Tours
Lighthouse tours depart from Tilghman Island from May through September. Cost is $145 for 10-light tour, $70 for five-light tour, and $60 for tri-light sunset tour. The two-day tour is $250. The Lazyjack Inn offers a 10 percent discount on lodging for tour-goers. 800-690-5080, http://www.chesapeakelights.com, http://www.lazyjackinn.com

Baltimore writer Rona Kobell looks forward to more adventures at sea.