The property comes with 3 canoes, 3 kayaks, an aluminum row boat, and a small sailing sloop with cabin. Outdoor activities include skipping stones, shoreline-boulder-jumping, horseshoes, badminton, cookouts on the broad pine-needle covered front yard...

Location: Thirty miles to the northwest of Portland, Sebago Lake (8 miles wide and 12 miles long) is the stepping-off point to the foothills of the White Mountains to the West. This Adirondac-style Log House is on the eastern side of the main body of water, where these hills and mountains populate the western vistas and sunsets of a lake-centered vacation life. For point of reference, the girl's camp, Wohelo, is two coves to the south and Migis Lodge is about one mile to the north along the shoreline. Despite the secluded nature of this property (accessed by a half-mile-long private dirt road through dense pine woods), Portland Jetport is about a forty minute drive from the house, while Maine Turnpike’s Exit 48 is thirty-five minutes away. Even Fenway Park is only a two-hour drive away.

Vacationland: For about 150 years, summer residences have dotted this Sebago shoreline, providing respite from the sweltering urban climates to the south: traditionally, whole families make the trek up at the beginning of summer; the husband soon returns to his work, leaving the often extended family and friends to fend for themselves; toward the end of the summer, he returns for his own vacation and the family makes the trek back home together.

This encapsulates the nature of this and neighboring properties. Those of us who have spent our childhood summers here treasure our memories of the “camp” experience, “roughing it” in the Lake Region outback without phones and TV, cooling off in the crystal-clear Sebago, and warming ourselves at night in front of a roaring fire. This is our family's vacationland.

'The Pond': Despite the term that some of the Mainers affectionately use for this extraordinary body of water, Sebago dominates the world, here. There’s nothing like the excitement of watching a storm approaching from the Saddleback and White Mountains to the west, blackening the lake as it makes its way across the open water, and then slamming into our shoreline with such fury. If we’re lucky, the electricity will be knocked out for a few hours, and we will have to rely on candles and fire-light. Even on calm days, whether it’s the early morning call of a loon on the glassy surface or the magic of a golden late-afternoon, Sebago effortlessly takes the place of the issues and concerns one might have been dwelling on at first arrival.