My grandparents began renting a camp on Little Sebago Lake in the 1940s and by the early 1950s purchased the camp, which was built in 1939.

I grew up loving my summer vacation at the lake. The camp was on the water, but high up a high and surrounded by a thick forest of trees.

Camps were far apart. I could see the Wetherbees’ cottage next door, as it was up on a ridge like Grandfather’s and Grandmother’s, but it took a couple of minutes to walk over to their door. I loved their waterfront because they had a beautiful sandy beach.

The Abrahamsons’ camp on the other side was invisible because of the trees and the fact that their camp was at lake level.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to start at the beginning, which was the early 1950s. I remember our blue Ford 2-door sedan with no air conditioning. From home in northern New Jersey to Little Sebago Lake was about 340 miles, which was an all-day trip.

We left early in the morning with some food in a cooler and snacks at hand, but it was a long, long trip for an excited little girl. We had to stop for gas and horrible bathrooms, which I remember at gas stations.

I learned early in life that I’d quickly get carsick if I tried to read anything so Mom tried to keep me distracted from the distance by playing the license plate game. Who would find the most different plates on the trip?

It took forever to get through Connecticut, but I got excited when we reached Massachusetts because I knew my grandparents lived there. No stopping there, though, because they were already at the lake waiting for us.

At least, the road through southern New Hampshire was pretty quick and when we finally crossed the state line into Maine, I knew we were finally getting very close.

I don’t have a photograph of the turn off to Little Sebago, but it was about midway between Gray and North Windham and the turn had a big display of camp names hanging between two wooden poles.

The car turned and it only took a couple of minutes for the lake to come into view. Back then, this road had no name. Today, it’s Cambell Shore road and the camp is in the middle lake on the east side.

Now, I was squealing with delight as we were on the final leg – the bumpy road that we rode to the end:

Just a few minutes to go until we were finally there! This was our first view:

On the left side of the property, just out of view, was the one-room guest cabin where Mom, Dad, my brother and I all slept.

The road to camp was high on the left, unseen because of the trees. The road went up on an angle to a peak and then sharply skewered downward and Dad had to make a sharp right turn to drive along the left side of the guest cabin and then make another sharp left to park in front of the main cottage.

Having been built in 1939 and this being the 1950s, our bathroom was just a toilet with a small sink running cold water. In the main cottage photo, look at my grandparents’ car by the porch. To the right, you can see four trees. Between tree #2 and #3, you can see the little outhouse that Grandfather built attached to the cottage.

Yes, it was attached, but we still had to go outside, either from the main cottage or the guest cabin to use it – and that meant at night in the pitch black or during rain, sleet or hail even in the middle of summer.

Still, it was way better than trekking into the woods to the original outhouse, which was a hundred or so feet away from the main cottage! Those woods were scary for a little kid!

The guest cabin had no running water at all and the cold water in the outhouse and the cottage wasn’t potable nor was there any kind of central heating and definitely no air conditioning in either building.

In the guest cabin, the answer was more blankets on the bed and in the cottage, on a cold day, we had the fire burning:

While there were cold and dreary days, most of the time, the weather was excellent for outdoor activities, including picking blueberries (which I was taught to do at a very young age):

The bushes were on the lower part of camp, down near the water. The view that looks like the sky is actually the lake.

I mentioned the Wetherbees’ fabulous beach. Well, they were rarely at the cottage since they lived in Wisconsin. Aunt Barbara used to take me onto their beach, which was just to the right of the blueberry bushes.

That beach was very enticing to a little girl! Notice the dock not in the water. Because they were hardly ever there, at least during the 2-3 weeks each summer that I was there, I don’t ever remember that dock ever actually being in the water.

Here you can see the Wetherbees’ guest cabin in the distance (cottage barely visible on the left with two guest cabins) through the trees. The cabin on the right is my grandparents’ guest cabin.

On the good weather days, it was swimming time for me, always in a life jacket until I was about six years old and could swim:

Or, Grandfather took us on boat rides in his green putt-putt that didn’t go very fast:

Two or three times during vacation, Grandfather would take us all in the boat for a 15 or 20 minute ride to a beach not owned by anyone where we could sunbathe and swim. Grandmother love to sunbathe:

Of course, it meant more swimming for me because sitting on the hot sand wasn’t too appealing for a little kid:

Once during the summer, Grandfather and Grandmother would take a long boat ride around the whole lake. I wasn’t ever allowed to go because they thought I’d get bored. I probably would have since they would be gone all morning. Aunt Barbara might go with them and she was the family photographer. She took some great pictures!

Of course, the camp didn’t have a television either, but we did have a radio, which Grandmother would put on to hear the news. If the weather was bad, I’d be given some books to read by the fireplace, puzzles to put together on the cottage porch or, best of all, I got to pick out a paint-by-number picture to complete. I remember favoring animals – dogs and horses. Those kept me busy for hours.

The porch was comfortable and had gorgeous lake views.

Sometimes, when it was too cold to swim, Mom or Aunt Barbara would take me out in the old rowboat. We had a tiny sandy area on the side of the camp by the Abrahamsons. I didn’t like walking through the brush there because there were water snakes!

Here are Dad, Mom and me getting ready to launch the boat:

Mom used to take Mickey, our dog, for rowboat rides, too!

We didn’t get many visitors at the camp because of the limited sleeping spaces, but my grandparents’ friends, the Haycocks, did visit once. They lived in Maine, though, so it was a day trip for them.

Here’s a view of the cottage from the lake’s edge:

There weer wooden steps to the right of the cottage that gave access down to the water. The open area on the bottom right of the cottage was storage – the putt-putt went in there for the winter.

Here’s a view of the cottage from the water:

The Wetherbees’ camp was to the left and the Abrahamsons’ cottage can barely be seen on the right.

Of course, all good things come to an end and in mid-August, we made the long drive back to New Jersey with all the newly made Little Sebago memories.

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.

Summertime always makes me nostalgic because I was one lucky little girl to spend my summers vacationing on Little Sebago Lake, Maine with my grandparents and my Aunt Barbara. Of course my family was there, too, but spending time with my grandparents and aunt was special since they lived in Massachusetts and we lived in New Jersey.

What was so special about time on Little Sebago? Here’s my walk down Memory Lane.

My grandparents actually rented their camp for several years before they had the chance to buy it and the extended family got together for at least a couple of weeks each summer.

This was taken about 1948, long before I was around. Mom, Dad and Aunt Carole are in the back with King, Grandmother, Grandfather, Aunt Barbara and Mickey seated in front. I loved those woods! So much fun to explore!

The camp was a good sized piece of land with lots of space between the Wetherbees and the Abramsons. The main cottage sat high above the lake with a guest cabin in the back.

You can see the Wetherbees’ guest cabin in the left distance. That’s Grandfather repairing something. My parents and brother and I slept in the cabin. Notice the window shutter with the rope – that’s how we opened and closed the “window.” There was no glass, just a screen over the opening and a matching shutter on the other side of the cabin.

The open door was the wood shed – wood was a necessity because the fireplace in the main cottage provided the only heat. After my sibling was born, Grandfather surprised us one summer. We arrived to find the woodshed had been converted into a second bedroom. My parents were happy about that!

Life was rustic, to say the least. Not only was the cabin unheated and the main cottage warmed by fire, but the water wasn’t potable, nor was it hot and the bathroom, which used to be an outhouse about 50 feet or so from the main cottage became an outdoor toilet attached to the main cottage when I was small.

If you look carefully, above, there are two trees to the right of the car. Then there is a tree that is leaning. Between the second and third trees, an addition to the cottage can be seen. That was the new “modern” bathroom. Grandfather was very handy. He installed a small sink and a flushing toilet. It was wonderful to have, but if we had to use the toilet at night or in the rain, it wasn’t the most fun getting there!

My earliest memories are of swimming:

riding in Grandfather’s motor boat (wood and light green in color) with a dock he built himself:

and Aunt Barbara teaching me to pick blueberries:

Grandmother always made a blueberry pie (although I’ve never cared for blueberries myself) and I was still picking those blueberries when I was 16 – the last summer at the lake before Grandfather died.

Boat rides were always fun, but I didn’t appreciate the scenery back then:

The best ride was to the little beach, about 15-20 minutes by boat:

For those enjoying Little Sebago Lake today, my grandparents’ camp was, back then, on a dirt road, which ended at their property, on what is now Cambell Shore Road. This beach was in front of a marshy area which can’t be seen behind the brush.

The red arrow is approximately where the camp is and the purple arrow where the little beach was.

I haven’t been to Little Sebago Lake since 1981 when my husband and I vacationed in New England. I wanted to stop and see the old camp. At the time, it hadn’t changed much from my previous visit in 1968 and we had no trouble finding the cottage. I was hoping that the owners were there, so I could say hi, but the camp was locked up.

I have been in touch with the current owner – a child of the couple woo actually bought the camp from my grandmother after Grandfather passed away. The cottage and guest cabin have been renovated and updated and look terrific and it’s pretty incredible that from the early 1950s to today, only two families have owned the property, originally built in 1939.