As I’m getting ready to head soon to a friend’s camp for a few days,  I was reminded of a post I made to our crew blog at work a couple years ago.  It still brings back great memories for me so thought I’d re-post and enjoy again! Originally posted at the flytecrewblog.com two summers ago.

July 23rd, 2008 by Gloria

I’ve settled back into work after a week camp hopping around the state of Maine. I visited 3 camps of different friends and we had a great time, but there is one lake that is closer to my heart since I spent a couple weeks there every summer growing up. It was with much pleasure then that I learned some friends of mine had a camp on the same lake (albeit the other end of the lake)

This camp is so cool I just had to share some of the photos.

Now, let it be said, if you are reading this post from anywhere other than in Maine, you’re probably thinking to yourself “Why did she go to a kids summer camp”….

So let’s define “Camp”.

If you grew up in Maine, camp is what most of you would call a cottage – probably but not always on a lake. There are some that are quite sophisticated, but to me a camp often means a much older building, with or without lake frontage but preferably with (no lake frontage probably means it’s a “hunting” camp.)

In this case the camp has it all (except a decent inside bathroom…oh, and “all” includes a resident chipmunk, the occasional mouse, and on one visit/occasion a bat – though thankfully nothing spotted on this visit). It was originally a hunting camp as evidenced by the deer and moose heads both inside and out. (Andy, my apologies to the vegetarian in the crew).

It also has great lake frontage with the sand beach going up under the porch and about 15 feet of beach between the camp and the lake. I also include a photo of the sink….an odd thing to take a picture of you say? Take a closer look….that sink and counter top is all carved out of one great big tree/log. Hope you enjoy these pictures of a good old fashioned Maine camp!

Many Thanks for the camp hospitality go out to Eirwen and Lane (Lake Cobbosseecontee near Augusta); to Doug and Linda – with a shoutout to Martha and Kevin (Beach Hill Pond near Ellsworth – the pictures are from here); and to Mary and Andrew (Cold Stream Pond near Lincoln).

Note the Bird’s nest in the antlers……circle of life?

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A couple months ago we went on a company sailing day, and there were many great photographers on the trip.  We had loads of photos of sails, photos of water, and photos of people taking photos of people taking photos of water and sails.

Given the professionals had some pretty outstanding results, I’ve been dragging my feet about posting any of  my own pics, but finally here are some of my favorites by my own hand:

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It’s a beautiful sunny day today, something fairly rare this rainy summer in Maine.  But I’m inside, sticking to my resolve to sort through and shred old papers that have been lurking in storage areas for years.   Among the many things I found and have had no reason to keep:  my first credit card, from Rines Department Store in Bangor – from 1972 or thereabouts; my reading materials from the NTL lab in Bethel almost a decade ago; and a find I’ll hold onto longer still – one of my occasional writing attempts from over a decade ago.

On this sunny day, this little view of having popovers at Jordon Pond teahouse brought me back to how much I love Mt. Dessert Island, but am not so fond of dining out alone.  I usually bring a book with me, but this time I brought a notebook and pen and made up this little vignette with a semi imaginary character named Ellie.  So next time you are faced with dining alone, take in your surroundings by capturing them with a descriptive writing exercise.

Ellie sat in the tea house waiting for the young man assigned to her table to return.  According to the card on the table he was from Dublin and named Mick. The wait staff typically came from far away places to spend the summers between their college years in Maine.

It was a wonderful place to be for someone lunching alone.  The huge windows looked out over the garden, providing vignettes of families and couples as they wandered in their striped and sneakered tourist finery through summer scents and colors.  Ellie had stopped once and spoken with the gardener, asking the names of the different plants.  Some had amusing names like gooseneck with its high stem topped by a graceful curving white cluster of tiny flowers, giving the impression of a goose just bending its head down.

Mick dropped off her order and she now dawdled over her coffee. The smell of hot popovers slathered with butter and strawberry jam that had brought fame to the teahouse wafted through the air, and she was enjoying the entertainment beyond the panes of glass.

Hundreds of bees hovered upwards from the flowers like tiny helicopters, moving on to their next conquest.  Hikers coming in from the network of nearby trails hovered as well; pointing, oohing and ahhing at the gardens, the view of the pond and the wonder of being somewhere other than where they spent their real lives.

The people who visited the teahouse now were different than those from long ago, and this was reflected in the changes to the restaurant.  The original had been a primitive dining room with walls covered with birch bark.  Diners waited in a closed entry room until the dining room doors opened to reveal a spectacular view of the pond and the hills rising like two giant bubbles on its far edge. Set at optimum perspective, the effect was breathtaking.  Everyone was seated at the same time with an air of some special expectation, almost as if the tea house were holding its breath, suddenly releasing when the wait staff fanned out to the semi circle of tables, listening to orders and getting them perfectly right without benefit of paper and pen.

Now the restaurant was pleasant, light and airy; and much the same as other yuppie restaurants in tourist resting spots.

The effect of the location though had not changed.  Ellie was on the last few days of her vacation.  Never before had she taken three weeks together – at least not without it involving a job hunt.  The stress of a life spinning fast, combined with turning 40, called for something special though like this extended vacation.  For an introvert, the anonymity of being just another tourist, with no expectations placed on her, no demands on her time, no one projecting their needs onto her, brought relaxation and a centering back to some core place in her spirit. At this particular place and time, alone was a good place to be.

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A while back I took some pictures down at Orr’s and Bailey’s Island.  I’ve wanted to go back and get some of the same spots now that the flowers and leaves are out, but schedule and weather haven’t meshed.

The other night I thought I should just take the time and go, but once I was down there it just wasn’t inspiring.  Although the sun was out, the light seemed flat and my reaction was ho hum.

On my way home I took a shortcut through Bowdoin College, and the sun was dappled on some rhododendrons so I stopped and halfheartedly took a few shots, one of which is posted below.  On the return to my car I turned around and noticed a pillar with this fabulous lion.  Not at all what I intended to take a picture of, but the unexpected muse grabbed me and this was my favorite shot of the evening.

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