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IF IT AIN'T DAMP, IT AIN'T CAMP

By Bob Davis

My parents bought our camp on a back lot on Cambell Shore when I was eight.   My brother, two sisters, and I loved swimming in the summer and skating in the winter.   We became friends with the owners of all the camps on the road.  There were lots of children and we became good pals.

Our father bought us  21/2  horsepower Johnson motor and we would go to Turtle Cove and walk across to the Speirs candy store which was on the lower lake.  We would also walk to Boody's store in North Windham.  When paying there, I was impressed to see the clerk put the money in a cylinder and send it up the tube to the "change maker" upstairs, who would send the change back the same way.  You could buy anything and everything at Boodys.

There were only two Chris Crafts on the lake...Mr. Kincaid's and Mr .Martin's.  On the western side of the middle lake there was no road---only one hunting camp.  Now it is filled in with lights at each lot, and so many are year-round homes---not camps.

Our original camp had an outside pump for water.  It was a big improvement when the pump was put inside the kitchen, but you still had to hand pump for water.  Hot water came from a kettle on the woodstove. 

Needless to say, the cottages all had outhouses.  A friend constructed a real bathroom for us as a wedding gift.

My sister, Jackie and I both worked at Aimhi for many years, Jackie as a waitress and myself as a "go-fer".  I drove an old truck and delivered wood to the cottages.  One day, as I drove down the hill to the lodge, hoping to slow down, I put my foot on the brake.  My foot went all the way to the floor of the truck.  I couldn't downshift.   I laid on the horn and went round and round the circle until the truck stopped.   Thank goodness no one was hurt.

In Turtle Cove, we would dive to get turtles as they left the log.  We took them back to Cambell Shore and had races on the beach, before letting them go.  In the winter we used to ski into our camp.  My  mother would make chili on the woodstove.  My friend had an old Model A Ford and would drive it onto the ice.  We attached a rope and he would pull us over the ice.  After several winters of that fun, one year the car went through the ice and sank.  Divers can still see it at the bottom of the lake off Horse Island Point.

In the 1950's I inherited the camp when my parents built a new cottage on the shore.  Now we have our own camp on the shore.  It is fun watching my grandchildren enjoy the lake.  Now they have water-ski boats and jet skis---so it is a different kind of fun (louder, faster, and more expensive!)

The serenity of Little Sebago Lake

As told by Mary Roberge

Jim Butler from the class of 1961 (SPHS) used to teach the young kids to water ski and he was a very popular guy on Little Sebago Lake. He went on to become a financial advisor and currently resides in Monterey, California. During the Viet Nam War, he was a member of the Special Forces. He recounted how he was once caught behind enemy lines with only a hatchet and low on ammo. He attributed a large part of his survival to his remembrances of the peaceful serenity of Little Sebago Lake in former times.

Jim’s family and ancestors are buried in the cemetery next to the fire station right on 302 here in Windham. His family and heart is always in Windham. (Little SebagoLake)

The House on the Hill

By Deb Gellerson

The "camp" portion of our house was built around 1904. It was built as a 2 room fishing cottage. We were told that the materials for the camp came across on the ice as there were no roads to Lyons Point then.  We know from the Cumberland County Deeds that William Kincaid began acquiring property on Little Sebago back in 1922 from the Mussey and Watkins families and in the 1940s from the Campbell and Cole Families.  Various deeds refer to the areas as Kincaid Point Development, the Little Sebago Resorts and the Lyons Point Development North Shore.  We are not sure who built the first camp on the hill.

William Kincaid,  was an accomplished flutist in the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra. He purchased our property on the Point in the 1940s  along with the camp. He owned both shorefronts. He constructed a series of seasonal cottages on the north side of the point and housed music students in them during the summer and ran a music camp there for many years. One of those cottages still exists as a bunkhouse on our neighbors'r property. In the evenings when he lived here, people would park their boats in the cove on the south side of the Point to listen to the jam sessions that were held on our deck. The electric line was installed in 1932 through this area is named the Kincaid Line to this day and Kincaid Lane bears his name as well.

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Neighborly

By Carole Davis 

I love summers in Maine.
Listen for our neighbors
swimming up to the dock,
singing a welcome. 

They come without invitation
Arrive when they wish,
Leave when the weather
Disinvites them. 

As with all friendships,
connections are fragile.
Homes must be respected,
diet should be suitable,
intruders  stopped. 

My neighbors visit less often now.
Their wondrous voices silenced.
Is that absence of music
a new call from the loons,
one that is shouting, “Help?”