My family and I first visited Martha’s Vineyard 16 years ago. At the time, we had two young children: one and three years old. We couldn’t afford a typical weekly rental on the Vineyard. After perusing Craigslist, I discovered a furnished apartment for rent in Vineyard Haven, complete with all the gear parents of young children dread having to pack on a trip: stroller, high chair and crib.

I called the owner, who was also in his late 20s, and proposed a trade. Would he accept payment in the form of grass-fed beef from our small Vermont farm? The exchange worked out and we continued this arrangement for three more years.

We loved Martha’s Vineyard once we overcame the iconic barriers to entry (e.g., ferry reservations, the rigidity of changeover days, etc.). On Island, the toddlers ensured we awoke by 5:30 a.m., giving us a head-start on the day. This early schedule meant we arrived at traditionally crowded spots by 7 a.m., avoiding lines, traffic, and parking issues.

During our first few visits, we discovered the publicly accessible land on Martha’s Vineyard. Conserved properties, boat launches and access areas. We sought out these properties because they were beautiful, fun to explore and accessible. Those that charged a fee, such as a few owned by the Trustees of Reservations, offered affordable options that granted access to many properties across the Island.

We hiked the shaded winding trails on Chappaquiddick, explored the shifting sands of Norton Point, and experienced ears full of water while body-surfing on South Beach.

Like so many people on the Island, we fished, typically from shore but sometimes from our vintage aluminum canoe. I remember one outing with our young children where we paddled out into Nashaquista Pond, catching a cooler full of scup and collecting shellfish. We made it as far as the inlet to Menemsha Pond before returning to the Chilmark boat access off State Road.

These experiences provided joy and memories and highlighted the vital role of public access to natural spaces. I became acutely aware of the crucial role public access plays in our experiences and for many who visit Martha’s Vineyard.

I remember my son, who was five years old at the time, grabbing my shorts as we fished Chappy Point.

“Dad, there’s a monster on the line, I know it.”

He could barely keep his rod steady, but now, 10 years later and almost taller than me, he easily reels in fish. Watching him on the beach, I realize how much the Island has shaped both our vacations and our family.

Our family’s preferences have changed over the past dozen years, along with an upgrade in our accommodations. I’m no longer trading grass-fed beef for our rentals, and our teenagers expect their own bedrooms. Yet, certain aspects of our Island experience remain the same as when we stayed in that cramped Vineyard Haven apartment: namely, our reliance upon and enjoyment of publicly accessible Martha’s Vineyard lands.

This past summer, I realized how much these public lands mean not just to us but to everyone who loves this Island. The network of conservation organizations like Sheriff’s Meadow Foundation and the land bank creates more than places on a map; they create a legacy of accessible land that offers the chance for families like mine to build lasting memories.

Jesse McEntee lives in Underhill, Vt.