Established in 1976, Tybee Island’s Breakfast Club is a local institution. (They catered the late John F. Kennedy, Jr.’s wedding on nearby Cumberland Island). On this particular day, chilly and overcast, the place is packed with both locals and tourists at 9:45 a.m. The owners hail from Chicago and are big hockey fans, so the menu boasts many references to the Blackhawks; a suspended TV runs an endless loop of a winning game. Four middle-aged, bandana-wearing guys including owner Jodee Sadowsky are front the grill, whipping up pecan waffles, grits, eggs and sausage.

Folks on Tybee love to eat: there are 3,500 year-round residents on the island and 35 restaurants. MacElwee’s Seafood House serves an absolutely addictive crab and asparagus dip and a luscious crab stew; Café Loco serves up delectable crab-stuffed sautéed mushroom caps, plump fried shrimp and fish tacos made with blackened flounder. Folks on Tybee also love the Lord. On Highway 80—a road which starts in San Diego and ends on the island—a colorfully painted billboard declares “God is Awesome.”

A small barrier island located 18 miles from Savannah—in fact, it was once known as Savannah Beach—Tybee is Native American word meaning “salt.” First visited in 1733 by General Oglethorpe, Tybee retains its historical flavor. Fort Pulaski National Monument marked a turning point in military history. The 6,000-acre site, designed by General Robert E. Lee, was built between 1829 and 1847. During the Civil War, Union forces camped on Tybee, firing powerful new rifled cannons at the fort, shattering its brick walls. After 30 hours of bombardment, the fort surrendered, making masonry forts worldwide obsolete. Fort Screven, located on the isle’s north end, is named for General James Screven, a Revolutionary War hero. Established in 1898, the post was in continuous use during the Spanish-American War and both World Wars. Today, a portion houses the Tybee Museum.

Tybee seems at war with its image: fighting a perception that it is shabby. But in fact, it’s a fast-disappearing, uncontrived American beach community. There are more than 100 historic raised cottages with hipped roofs arranged in tidy, quaint residential neighborhoods with pocket beaches. The Spanish moss-draped live oaks lend the town an atmospheric Old South feel. This is the kind of place where women of a certain age—about 35—are still introduced as “Miss Evelyn” and local characters are referenced with affection.

The strivers of Tybee are angling for a more upscale visitor, frequently mentioning celebrity homeowners John Cougar Mellencamp and Sandra Bullock. Oceanfront Cottage Rental owner Stacye Jarrell is an enthusiastic promoter of the island’s eclectic charms. She’s got Sherry and I happily ensconced in one of her luxury rental properties, a three-story, four-bedroom home with Brazilian cherry floors, an elevator and a widow’s walk. The home is called “Stairway to Heaven” and located on the quiet north end of the island, home to a bird sanctuary. The painted bunting is Tybee’s official bird.

The night of our arrival there’s a full moon, and we’re fortunate to spend the evening on a friend’s boat. Dolphins surf in the bow’s wake. There’s a spectacular sunset, a papaya disk dropping below the horizon before the marshes are illuminated in a pearlescent light. When we return to “Heaven,” we spy nocturnal raccoons scurrying into lantana bushes in the soft, briny evening air.

The next morning, we enjoy coffee and bagels on the porch, waving to the neighbors and peering at the orange Coast Guard helicopters circling above. Shrimp boats come within 300 feet of shore, gulls swarming and cawing. A dune buggy whizzes by, renting chairs, umbrellas and towels to sunbathers. A couple of sea kayakers ply the waters.

Our home is at the wooden cross-over to wide beach, backed by oat-studded sand dunes. We walk to the point where sandpipers and an albatross have massed. Starfish are scattered in the wet sand, along with horseshoe crabs and a rogue jellyfish or two. In the distance, a huge cargo boat chugs by; Savannah is one of the nation’s busiest ports. Georgia’s oldest and tallest shore beacon, the gray and white striped Tybee Lighthouse, dates to 1773. We climb 178 steps to the top for a panoramic view of Tybee, nearby Dafuskie Island and more distant isles. Then we return to the house for an afternoon nap.

A violent clap of thunder wakes me; Sherry is up, too. We pad up to the third floor and curl up on the sofas, watching great jagged gashes of lightening punctuate the sky, which has become grayish-white, barely discernible from the Atlantic Ocean. Soon, sheeting rain falls. It’s a great show, lasting just a few hours, but the mood lingers. We decide to stay in, sautéing fresh shrimp and tossing them with pasta and pouring glasses of white wine. We eat on the porch in comfortable silence, as a band of rose-gold sandwiched by low, thin, charcoal gray clouds marks the day’s transition into night.

To learn more about Tybee Island, Georgia, log onto TybeeVisit. Oceanfront Cottage Rentals can arrange accommodations from one to seven bedrooms. by calling 1-800-786-5889 or visiting OceanFrontCottage.com