Summer has arrived and it always brings back memories of the years I spent at my grandparents’ camp on Little Sebago Lake in Maine.

Their camp was on a beautiful piece of land, set high up from the lake, giving terrific views of the water from the front enclosed porch.

Back in the 1950s and 1960s and even around 1981 when my husband and I went back to visit the area, the road to their camp had no name. Today, it is Cambell Shore Road.

The local road we took to the lake was the main road between Gray and North Windham, which today is Rte. 115.

Back then, people really had to know where they were going. the dark arrows at the top and bottom indicate Gray and North Windham. The yellow arrows point the way along Cambell Shore Road to the cottage.

In the old days, the turnoff was where there were two big wooden posts on which pieces of wood, hung, one after the other, showed surnames of the camp owners down that road. The only name I remember from that sign is Skilling and the family apparently still lives there!

The close up above shows Cambell Shore road ending in a loop near the water. My grandparents’ camp was at the end of the road, which did NOT continue into a loop. I remember a pathway that is probably what became the continued road. It was up behind the guest cabin.

Here’s a view of Little Sebago Lake through the trees on their property. Not far back from the shoreline were tons of wild blueberry bushes. I remember them well because every time I was bored, I was given a bucket and told to go pick the blueberries so Grandmother could bake a fresh pie!

This was either the summer of 1947 right after my parents married or perhaps 1948. Mom, Dad and Aunt Carole are in the back with King, Grandmother, Grandfather, Aunt Barbara and Mickey in the front. It’s possible to just make out the eaves of the cottage on the left and the lower light through the trees is actually the lake. As you can see, the property was heavily wooded.

Here’s the cottage as seen from the boat. It had a small beachy spot in front where I, and later my brother, loved to dig in the sand. The rocks on the far right marked the spot where the row boat was eventually pulled up out of the water. This photo, probably from the late 1940s is before my time and it doesn’t look like Grandfather had a dock in the water. His boat at this time had a motor that could be pulled up on the back of the boat so I think they probably “docked” the boat in the little beachy area where I remember the row boat. I’ve looked at these photos many times and this is the first time that I noticed no dock!

Here is a view of the lake from the enclosed porch. My mom swam out to that little island see through the second window from the right.

Life on the lake was all about water activities. There was a beach across the way, about 15 minutes or so by boat. I loved that beach and my family spent many days there, enjoying the sun (slathered in tanning oil) and swimming.

Here’s Grandfather and Aunt Carole in the boat at the beach. You can see the motor pulled up and marshy vegetation in the bottom right corner.

Behind the beach itself was a big marshy area. As a child, I always thought it was a big creepy and never ventured back there. Today, there are cottages built all along the shoreline there.

Above is the same beach area a few years ago, photo courtesy of a friend. The trees weren’t nearly as tall or as thick. There was definitely no respite from the sun in the 1950s! Below is how I remember the beach. Not quite the same, is it???

On the right is Grandmother and bending down is my mom. hard to tell if they are cleaning up to go back to the cottage or just settling in for the afternoon.

Boating was another favorite past time. If we weren’t swimming, we were riding the waves in Grandfather’s putt-putt. This was c1955 when Grandfather upgraded from the old motor boat/turned into rowboat and he built a dock to put in the water.

Aside from repairs every now and then, this is the same dock that was used up until 1968, the last summer they spent at the camp.

That’s me, smiling and getting ready for a boat ride, c1956. Before we left, I always put on a life preserver.

I didn’t mind putting on that orange life vest before I went in the water, but hated getting and and then deciding to go back in the water, having to wear the-now-cold-and-wet life jacket.

By today’s standards, the camp was more than rustic. We had no potable water and the only hot water was what was boiled on the stove. The toilet was outside and the only heat was from the fireplace. There was no TV, but we did have a radio.

Here are a few more views of life on Little Sebago in the 1950s:

Those were the days that produced many cherished memories of Little Sebago Lake.