I found an old ferry schedule yesterday, in the drawer of a tall china cabinet in the living room where it had been for years. The faded coral-colored picture of the ferry and the darkened print of this little piece of paper came into focus. It had been living, half visible, under a lot of silver spoons, for the past three decades. The Islands, it said. Late Winter 1978. Inside it read Winter Schedule. Effective Jan. 13, 1978. Well, this was the winter of 2012, when after 33 years I decided to look at this small scrap.

It was interesting to ponder the gap of all those years in terms of everyday things, such as how much did it cost then? How often did the boats run? What was the steamer pictured on the front? (The Nantucket? The Islander?) Someone out there must have a scrapbook of every single ferry schedule ever issued. Thank goodness it’s not me; some chance prevented my getting the idea). A round trip between Woods Hole and the Vineyard for your car (only) was $8.25. Sold only on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday; life had its peculiarities then too. A special three-day excursion rate, from the Island and including two adults and two children was $15.40. A foot passenger paid $5 round trip. With a bike, add $1.25 one way. There were six departures a day, the first one leaving Vineyard Haven at 7:15 a.m., the last one at 6:45 p.m. But then it was January — and six choices seemed enough. Who wanted to go anywhere in January anyway? To get to Nantucket from Woods Hole was $14.75 for a round trip.

Now, this winter of 2012 we have more options. There are 14 departures from Woods Hole to the Vineyard, and this is the thrifty time of year to travel. Comparatively speaking that is: from January through March the fare is $42.50 (one way) for your auto.

Racing down the last stretch from Falmouth to get to your boat on a stormy winter night, then climbing the stairs up to the lunchroom for chili or cocoa is still as good a thing as it ever was. (Though a hot dog stopped costing a dollar a long time ago). There are special things about all the boats that we remember. The Uncatena took a lot of razzing. It had had an overhaul and been made longer — how or why, none of us knew. See, here’s where it got cut in half we’d say, here are the clamps and welding and screws putting it back together, right here amid-ships, pointing to some shiny seams — don’t lean on it too hard, don’t want all that new middle to fall out. The Eagle, the Nantucket, the Nobska and of course the Islander, all had their own personalities. On the top deck of most of the ships there were canvas-backed deck chairs, sliding and blowing about; you could line them up to suit yourself, one to prop up your feet and another to lean back on and relax and watch the horizon and clouds and little boats out in the distance. Now the uninviting rows of plastic seats on all the boats stay in place, and are an unforgiving shape, not for lounging. (The benches are nice.)

The boats would rock and dance about during rough weather (still do); you did a little two step, and held on to whatever you could grab—or else stayed sitting. Once staying in the car on the freight deck, close to the front, I watched the water come pouring through the joints and spaces and seams of the lowered doors, like a small Niagra. The deck was awash. It was exciting, and it never occurred to me to be scared, like, what could happen to the Islander? Not long after, I remember reading about a ferry whose doors were open and the boat was swamped and there was loss of life.

The only times I (and everyone else) was nervous was aboard the Eagle. It was top-heavy (a land-lubber’s analysis), or just plain too tall. Rounding either of the buoys it would lean over, way over, like the London double decker buses that you would feel were ready to roll over on their side as they turned corners or went around a fountain (or a roundabout). The Eagle passed on and away from the Vineyard. The Nobska, in retrospect, was grand. Her lines saw to that. And we were passengers a few times before she left our waters.

Our latest boat, the Island Home, is big. Having said that, I will allow that although there is no water fountain to be found, there are comforts, the elevator can be convenient, the seating is ample and the chili is still good.

Gazette contributor Jeanne Hewett is a freelance writer and fabric artist who lives in Edgartown.