Infinitive Splitter

We pushed off from the southern shore (my boat and me) toward the green-
Ery that tipped the island’s eastern edge — the quintessential scene
To end the long, camp-sited coast, where real estate was claimed by tethered boats.

A fire I smelled but did not see burned somewhere in behind the trees.
And passing through the rocks, I looked for fish below among the reeds.
And then I scanned the northern shore to find the camp I’d seen some years before.

An older house, a screened-in porch, a T-shaped dock I knew for sure,
But such were common traits among the camps across that distant shore.
And when I’d narrowed down the bunch, to two, I chose the wrong one on a hunch.

As I approached the lakeside house I wrongly thought I’d once been in,
I saw a figure by the door and wondered if it could be him
Who’d treated me on several nights to dinner with his daughter and his wife.

But no, as you’re by now aware, your narrator had somehow erred
And picked the wrong house (on the right), sans boats and with brown-painted stairs
And not the green one (on the left) — the one that was, of boats, not so bereft.

So, presently I saw the camp that I had meant to aim toward,
But not a light was on inside and both familiar boats were moored.
Now satisfied (if saddened some) that they were out, I turned around toward home.