Crystal Lake Will Float Your Boat in Harrison, Maine
May 8th, 2009 categories: Sebago Lakes Region
When I was a boy I had a rowboat on Crystal Lake in Harrison. What a sense of independence it gave me to sit in that boat out on the water, oars pulled in, fishpole out, watching the traffic go by on Rte. 117 and enjoying a fish-eye view of the camps and cottages that dotted the shoreline.
The boat had belonged to my Uncle Hank, who died when I was ten. My Dad was his closest relative and had to settle the estate, which basically consisted of a big old house in bad repair in the village, an attached barn jam-packed full of stuff (mostly worthless), and several cats that seemed to have the run of the house and barn.
In the barn was the rowboat, overturned on a couple of sawhorses, covered with a piece of oil cloth, and serving as a tabletop for a collection of paint cans, several screwdrivers, a rusted, open pair of pliers, scattered screws and nails, an oil can, and a bicycle chain. Dad cleared off all the junk and removed the oil cloth, exposing the rowboat.
The boat was old and hadn’t been used in awhile, but we decided it was worth saving. Dad guessed that if all the seams were re-caulked and the boat put in water to swell up a little it might be lake-worthy yet. Several nights after supper I helped with the caulking, gave it a new coat of paint, and we got the use of a neighbor’s pick-up truck to give it a lift down to Crystal Lake.
Once in the water the boat floated, but it leaked. Dad said to be patient and to come back tomorrow with something to bail with. The next day I came back with a sand pail and bailed it out, and did the same the following day. By the weekend we went on our maiden voyage. We brought the pail and a big sponge Dad used to wash the car. The sponge was sufficient to keep up with the leaking and the boat slid through the water like an overgrown pickerel. I was delighted.
Once I got my rowing technique to a satisfactory level I was given permission to take the boat out on my own, and did so many times. I’d keep it chained up to a ring in a rock next to the public beach and carry the oars back and forth from my house. It must have been a familiar sight to anyone who cared to look–a boy with two oars pressing on his left shoulder and, in his right hand, an orange life preserver, a fishing pole, and a soup can full of dirt and worms. That was a good summer.
Many more camps, cottages, houses, and homes have Crystal Lake as an address compared to when I was a boy. Here are a few of the current listings where enjoyment of Crystal Lake comes with the title:
Tom - MrLakefront
