Summer camp. One of the shimmering illusions of American childhood, if the magazine covers and travel page ads popping up like dandelions have us believe. Arm in arm, around the campfire. Swinging from an inner tube out into a mountain lake. Gazing at the stars.
To be honest, the closest we came to summer camp was the Girl Scout daycamp half a mile down the road from my house. We rode our bicycles there and back (except for the day Dad drove down to pick us up because of a storm warning.) It was where we painted plaster of Paris molds of arrowheads with poster paints and sat on a circle of logs, singing songs. It’s the place I still go when I close my eyes and imagine the smell of spruces on a hot summer day.
Here at Spruce Point, we conjure up the perfect memories of summer camp to make your stay: the s’mores around the fire, the camp craft and Native lore, the sound of splash and laughter. And the deep woods smell of sun-warmed spruces. None of the downsides that are only good for stories later – just the ocean breeze and the swimming pools, the bicycles and the wading discoveries along the shore. Fabulous food, from blueberries to lobsters. The chance to meet new friends (or reconnect with the old – maybe a reunion from those days at camp?). And, always, the stars. Look up. Make a wish. Summer will be here before you know it!
- Into the Maine September woods
- Coming around to apples
- Framing September in caramel light
- Boothbay Harbor golf links to history
- Palawan sails in with priceless memories
- August Amber
- Happy birthday, Boothbay!
- 400 years of corn, ocean and moonlight
- Maine lobsters salute you
- A sense of Wyeth’s place in Maine