MAINE: my final frontier. These are the voyages of the Scooter Vespa 250 i.e. Super. Its continuing mission - to explore America's most heavily forested state - to roam the vast coastline, numberless lakes, and mighty mountains. To boldly go where no scooter has gone before!

Friday, January 27, 2012

Seaside Living

After a week of staring out the window at icy streets and snow banks, last Monday turned out to be the Day of the January Thaw! I took full advantage of the 51 degree high temperature to ride nearly 70 miles, with several stops for photos. The best was in the Prince Point neighborhood of Falmouth.

The people living in this neighborhood have spectacular views, and equally spectacular property tax bills.

This home has almost no yard, front or back; sitting hard by the road and the water. But there's no grass to mow.

Instead of ice, the streets and roads are just wet. Very nice for riding!

A view of several of the islands of  Casco Bay 

Another home without much of a yard. No place for a game of croquet or touch football. I think I could learn to live without a yard, though.

Now, here's a house with a huge yard. But it's a good 100 feet from the water!

Melting snow, wet streets, a perfect view - but this is Maine in the winter. Two days after this wonderful ride, the overnight low temperature at my house was 3 degrees below zero. And as I write this, it's snowing.

The perfect yard! I'll bet that if I'd grown up here, I'd have been a better man today. Wait - I did grow up around here. Gee, I should have been a better man.

For the record, below are two photos I took years ago of the summer cabin in which I spent summers with my family until I was in my late teens.

I was standing on the ice, looking up at the camp on Sebago Lake, during a visit to check out how the place was weathering the winter.  I slept every night from June to Labor Day on the porch of this marvelous place.

This was taken in 1981, shortly before the camp was sold. When ever I meet with my cousins, who shared this family place, we talk about our summers on the lake.

A week ago, my Aunt Sena died, aged 97 years. She was the last member of the Jensen family, who built the camp in the early 1930s; she and my mother were youngest and third oldest girls in the family, respectively.

After Aunt Sena's funeral, several of us were talking about those unforgettable, long-ago summers. My cousin Jonathan summed up the deep feelings we all share:

"What a childhood ..."  


  1. I grew up on a farm in Michigan. This was before the time of herbicides and air conditioned cabs on tractors. Summer was work time. There was more play time in the winter even with school. I came to love the interplay of snow, ice and open water. I, also, came to appreciate fog, but that is neither here nor there. I mention this because of the nice memories the photos in this post bring to me. The Great Lakes aren't the ocean, nor is Michigan Maine. Still, there is an appear to my sense of place in your photos. Thank you.

    And, my childhood, too, is remembered fondly. I consider myself most fortunate to have the one I remember.

  2. What a wonderful post. Your photos made me feel like I was right there with you. We must all enjoy the break from the terrible cold and snow we are used to, and it looks like you are doing just that. Just beautiful. Thanks for the ride.

    1. Thank you very much, Martha. A comment like that from an accomplished photographer is most treasured!