Every named pond in the Adirondack Park — quiet waters, lean-to destinations, swimming holes. Browse by region or jump to a name.
Babbe Pond is an 18-acre water in Keene — small enough to miss on most maps, quiet enough to stay that way. No fish stocking records on file, no formal trail system, no lean-tos — this is either private or effectively unmanaged, the kind of pond that shows up in property deeds and old survey maps but rarely in trip reports. If you're poking around the back roads between Keene Valley and the Ausable Club lands, you might catch a glimpse through the trees. For most paddlers and anglers, it's a name on a list and not much more.
Bacon Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Lake George region — small enough to stay off most touring itineraries, which makes it a reliable refuge when the big named lakes get crowded. No fish stocking data on record, and the size suggests marginal trout habitat at best, but that's never been the draw here. This is a pond for people who want to sit on a shoreline alone with a dog and a book, or paddle a kayak in dead-still water without crossing wakes. Access details vary by season — check with the local DEC office or regional paddling groups for current put-in status and ownership boundaries.
Baker Pond is a 17-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough to stay off most radar, large enough to hold a canoe afternoon. No fish stocking data on record, which typically means it's either wild brook trout habitat or fishless depending on depth and inlet character. These mid-sized ponds in the Saranac Lake zone often sit on old private inholdings or see access via unmarked local roads rather than marked state trails — worth a stop at a local outfitter or the DEC Ray Brook office for current access intel.
Baker Pond is a five-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it rarely appears on regional recreation lists, but registered in the state's inventory and presumably tucked into one of the forested pockets between the village and the wider Lake Placid corridor. No fish species on record, no mapped trail access in the standard DEC directories — which often means either private shoreline or a bushwhack-only approach through working timberland. If you're chasing it down, start with the local DEC office in Ray Brook or ask at a Saranac Lake outfitter; they'll know whether it's worth the effort or just a seasonal wetland with a name.
Bald Mountain Pond is a six-acre water tucked into the working forest west of Old Forge — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, large enough that it holds its own character in a region dense with bigger destinations. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means native brookies or nothing at all; worth a scouting trip if you're already in the area with a canoe and low expectations. The Old Forge / Inlet corridor has dozens of ponds in this size class, most of them legacy logging waters that never made it onto the standard tourist loop. Check current ownership and access before heading in — much of this country is private timberland with gates that open and close by season.
Balsam Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to be off the radar for most anglers and paddlers, which is usually the point of a pond this size. No fish data on record, no designated campsites, no named peaks within striking distance — it reads more like a local reference point than a destination, the kind of water that shows up on a topo map but not in a guidebook. If you're looking for solitude and you know how to get there, it delivers. If you don't know how to get there, it's probably staying quiet.
Barney Pond is a 23-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to stay off most recreation radars, large enough to hold its own shoreline character. No fish species on record, which in Adirondack terms usually means either marginal habitat (shallow, warm, low oxygen in winter) or simply that DEC hasn't surveyed it in the modern database era. Access details are sparse in the public record; if there's no obvious roadside pull-off or marked trailhead, it's likely tucked into private or working forest land. Worth a call to the local DEC office in Ray Brook if you're serious about reaching it.
Barnum Pond is an 89-acre water west of Saranac Lake village — large enough to hold its own on the regional pond roster but low-profile enough that it doesn't pull the summer traffic of its better-known neighbors. No fish species data on record suggests either limited stocking history or simply limited angler reporting; the pond sits in mixed hardwood and conifer terrain typical of the Saranac Lake watershed, where beavers and seasonal water levels tend to shape the shoreline more than trail maintenance schedules. Access details are sparse in the standard references — worth a call to the local DEC office or a stop at a Saranac Lake outfitter for current conditions. The name suggests early settlement-era ties, likely a family homestead or timber operation from the mid-1800s logging boom.
Bartlett Pond is a four-acre pocket water in the Lake Placid town boundary — small enough that it rarely appears on recreational radar, and remote enough that access details stay local knowledge. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means limited habitat depth or a shallow basin that winterkills, though some of these off-grid ponds hold wild brookies that never make it into DEC surveys. The pond sits outside the High Peaks corridor proper, so it's not a trailhead magnet or a lean-to destination. If you know where it is, you're either hunting the woodlot edges or you grew up within a few miles.
Bartlett Pond is a one-acre pocket water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough that it won't appear on most recreational maps, and likely tucked into private or low-traffic terrain. Waters this size in the Saranacs are often spring-fed, tannic, and fishless, though they hold value as wildlife corridors and wetland buffers in the broader watershed. Without public access or trail infrastructure, Bartlett exists as part of the region's quieter hydrology — more reference point than destination. If you're hunting it down, expect bushwhacking and confirm land status before you go.
Bassout Pond is a 25-acre water tucked into the Raquette Lake township — off the main lake circuits and far enough from the trailhead networks that it holds its quiet. No fish data on file with DEC, which usually means either private inholdings complicate access or it's simply too small and shallow to warrant stocking surveys. The name suggests old logging-era geography — "bassout" as corruption or mispronunciation, common in ponds named by surveyors or timber crews who moved through faster than they mapped. If you know how to reach it, it's yours; if you don't, start with the Raquette Lake town office or a USGS quad.
Bates Pond is a small backcountry pond in the southern Adirondacks, reached by bushwhack or unmarked woods roads. The water holds brook trout, but access requires navigation skills — no trail markers lead in.
Bay Pond sits northwest of Tupper Lake village — a 234-acre water that holds middle ground between the public-access ponds closer to town and the deeper backcountry clusters toward Cranberry Lake. The size puts it in contention for canoe exploration rather than a quick swim stop, but without fish stocking records or maintained access intel in the DEC database, it's likely a local-knowledge water or private-access situation. The Tupper Lake Wild Forest wraps much of this drainage, so there's public land in the area, but approach routes aren't always obvious from the road. Worth a call to the regional DEC office or a chat at Raquette River Outfitters before loading the boat.
Bear Pond is a 28-acre water in the Raquette Lake region — small enough to paddle in an afternoon, large enough to feel like more than a stopping point. The pond sits in the network of lakes and channels that make the Raquette drainage a classic canoe-camping zone, though Bear itself sees less traffic than the headline waters nearby. No fish species data on record, which either means it's been overlooked by DEC survey crews or it's one of those ponds where the habitat doesn't hold much past early spring. Access is by paddle route; check the Raquette Lake launch points and plan your connections accordingly.
Bear Pond is an 8-acre pocket water in the Old Forge network — small enough that it doesn't command much attention in a region dense with larger paddling routes and stocked fisheries, but that's exactly the point. No fish stocking records on file, no designated campsites, no trail register at a formal trailhead — it's the kind of water that gets visited by accident or by locals who know where the old logging roads cut through. If you're looking for solitude within striking distance of Old Forge's resort infrastructure, Bear Pond delivers by virtue of obscurity. Assume carry-in access and plan accordingly.
Bear Pond sits northwest of Old Forge in the Moose River Plains — a pocket of 80 acres off the grid in one of the most backcountry-feeling corners of the southern Adirondacks, where the road network thins out and the forest service roads take over. Access typically means gravel, a high-clearance vehicle, and a tolerance for solitude; this isn't pull-off-the-highway water. No fish data on file, which usually means light angling pressure and a pond that gets its traffic from paddlers and hunters more than Memorial Day crowds. Expect loons, beaver activity, and the kind of quiet that makes you check your watch to see if it stopped.
Bear Pond is a 19-acre pond in the Paradox Lake region — a quieter corner of the eastern Adirondacks where state land intermingles with private parcels and the names on the map outnumber the boats on the water. No fish stocking records and no established trailhead signage, which usually means either private access or a bushwhack approach through second-growth forest. The pond sits in that middle zone: too small for motorized traffic, too obscure for the weekend paddling crowd, likely to stay empty even in July. If you're headed this way, confirm access and ownership before you go — the Paradox Lake Wild Forest doesn't publish maintained trails to every named water.
Bear Pond is a 55-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — mid-sized by local standards, but without public fish stocking records or well-documented access in DEC materials. The name suggests old trapping or hunting use, common across ponds of this size that sit outside the High Peaks corridor and away from state campground networks. Ponds like this often hold wild brookies or serve as seasonal wildlife habitat, but without maintained trails or boat launches they stay off most paddling and fishing itineraries. Worth checking local outfitters or the DEC Ray Brook office for current access status if you're working the area.
Bear Pond is a five-acre pocket water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely sees more moose than motorboats, and remote enough that access details aren't widely documented. No fish species data on file, which in the Adirondacks usually means either truly wild brook trout that no one's bothered to survey, or a shallow basin that winters out. The name suggests old trapper geography; ponds this size were often named for whatever walked past camp. Worth investigating if you're already in the area with a topo map and a tolerance for bushwhacking.
Bear Pond is a 45-acre water in the Lake George region — a name that appears on maps without much of a digital footprint, which typically means either private land or limited public access worth confirming before you drive. The pond sits outside the High Peaks corridor and the heavily trafficked Lake George Wild Forest trail networks, so it's not a standard day-hike destination. No fish species on record, which could mean unstocked, untested, or simply under the survey radar. If you're chasing this one down, call the local DEC office in Warrensburg or check the most recent Adirondack Atlas for access status — some ponds in this region are approachable only by permission or old logging roads that aren't maintained.
Bear Pond is a small six-acre water in the Raquette Lake township — one of dozens of named ponds scattered through the woods south and west of the main lake basin. No fish data on record, no trailhead in the immediate radius, and likely accessed by bushwhack or private inholding rather than marked trail. The name shows up on DEC and USGS maps but not in the recreational literature, which usually means either low-access or low-interest water hemmed in by wetland or blowdown. If you're serious about finding it, start with the quad map and a compass — this is scout-and-report territory, not a weekend stroll.
Bear Pond stretches 132 acres in the Long Lake township — remote enough that access details aren't codified in the standard trail guides, and large enough that it's not a backcountry secret. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means either unmanaged wild brookies or water too shallow and weedy to hold trout year-round. The pond sits in the working forest west of the Long Lake hamlet, where old logging roads and private inholdings complicate public access — check with the Long Lake town office or local outfitters before planning a trip. If you're already on the water by canoe from Long Lake proper, Bear Pond may connect via seasonal wetland channels depending on spring runoff.
Bear Pond is a 16-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to hold quiet, large enough to paddle without feeling claustrophobic. No fish species on record, which usually means either unmapped brookies or none at all; the DEC hasn't stocked it in recent memory. The pond sits outside the heavy-traffic Lake George corridor, so it skews more local than tourist — the kind of place that gets fished by someone who grew up knowing the access. Worth checking the DEC's latest public water access list if you're planning a visit; some Lake George-area ponds are landlocked or require permission.
Bear Pond covers 30 acres in the St. Regis Canoe Area — carry-in only from St. Regis or Bog Pond. Native brook trout and primitive sites, with light use even mid-summer.
Beaver Flow sits in the Long Lake township — a 101-acre impoundment shaped by beaver activity rather than glacial scour, which makes for shallow water, drowned timber, and a shoreline that shifts with dam maintenance. No fish data on record, which usually means either limited angling pressure or periodic winterkill in shallow flowages like this. Access details are scarce in the public record, suggesting either private land barriers or a put-in that requires local knowledge — worth a stop at the Long Lake town office or a conversation at the boat launch if you're hunting new water. Flowages this size in the central Adirondacks tend to fish best in spring before the weeds take over.
Beaver Pond — ten acres tucked somewhere in the broader Lake George region — is one of those small waters that shows up on the DEC list but doesn't carry much of a paper trail. No fish stocking records, no marked trailhead in the standard guidebooks, no lean-to or campsite designation that made it into the planning maps. It's likely a wetland feeder or a roadside pullover pond that earned a name locally but never developed the infrastructure or the fishing pressure to generate data. If you're looking for specifics on access or conditions, check the latest DEC quad map or ask at the nearest ranger station — this one's off the documented grid.
Beaver Pond is an 8-acre stillwater in the Speculator area — one of dozens of small ponds in the southern Adirondacks that share the name and the likelihood of active beaver work along the shoreline. Without maintained trail access or fish stocking records, it sits in that broad category of remote ponds best approached by bushwhack or winter ice, more likely to show up on a paddler's topo than a day-hiker's itinerary. The draw here is isolation rather than infrastructure — if you're putting in the work to reach it, you're probably the only party there. Check current beaver activity before planning a route; dams shift, water levels fluctuate, and what was a pond last season might be a marsh this spring.
Beaver Pond is a five-acre water in the Old Forge area — small enough that its name is more common than its particulars, and likely one of several Beaver Ponds scattered across the western Adirondacks where beavers did what beavers do. No fish species on record, which suggests either limited access, shallow water subject to winterkill, or simply that it hasn't turned up in DEC survey data. Without a known trail or public road access, this is most likely a paddle-in or bushwhack destination from a nearby flowage or maintained trail corridor. If you've been there, you know more than the official record does.
Beaver Pond is a five-acre water in the Lake George region — small enough to slip past most paddlers and anglers, but the kind of quiet pocket that rewards anyone willing to look beyond the big water and the busy corridors. No fish species data on file, which either means undersampled or marginal habitat; beaver activity (historic or active) tends to draw the name and shape the shoreline. The Lake George Wild Forest holds dozens of these smaller ponds, most of them accessed by bushwhack or unmarked paths rather than maintained trails. If you're hunting this one down, bring a compass and a topo — and don't expect a lean-to.
Beaver Pond sprawls across 86 acres in the Speculator region — large enough to hold a canoe route but anonymous enough that its exact character depends on which Beaver Pond you're after, since the name repeats across the Park like a placeholder. Without curated access or nearby peaks to anchor it, this one likely sits in working forest or private land buffer zones where the DEC doesn't stock and hikers don't congregate. If you're researching this pond, cross-reference a topo map with local access rights — many Beaver Ponds are paddle-in only, some are catch-and-release brookies, and a few are just wide spots in a wetland where the beavers won the long game.
Beaver Pond — six acres, Saranac Lake region — sits somewhere in that wide scatter of small waters west and south of the village, most likely a roadside or near-road wetland with the kind of seasonal fluctuation that comes with active beaver work. No fish stocking records, which usually means catch-and-release brookies if anything, or just a quiet paddle through stumps and lily pads. The name shows up on older maps but without the trailhead fame or lean-to infrastructure that pulls crowds to more documented ponds in the area. If you're hunting this one down, expect to cross-reference the DEC unit management plan or a local paddling guide — it's the kind of water that rewards map work more than word-of-mouth.
Beaver Pond is an 8-acre water in the Saranac Lake region — small enough to be overlooked, common enough in name to require a second check on the map before you're certain which one you're heading to. No fish data on record, which typically means it's either holding small brookies that no one's bothered to log or it's a shallow, weedy system that winters out too hard to support trout year-round. The Saranac Lake area has dozens of ponds in this size class, most accessed by unmarked paths or old logging roads that require local knowledge or a willingness to bushwhack. Worth a look if you're already in the neighborhood with a canoe on the truck.
Beaver Pond is a 20-acre pond in the Tupper Lake region — one of dozens of small waters in the area that share the name, a reminder that beaver engineering shaped more of this landscape than the logging era that followed. Without fish stocking records or nearby trail infrastructure in the directory, this is likely a put-in-and-paddle destination: check topographic maps for forest road access and expect shallow water, stumps, and active beaver work at the inlet. The Tupper Lake wild forest holds enough unnamed ponds and beaver flows to keep a canoe explorer busy for seasons. Bring a compass and a DeLorme.
Beaver Pond — 48 acres in the Brant Lake region — sits in the middle-elevation terrain where the southeastern Adirondacks flatten out toward the lakes corridor. No fish data on record, which usually means either neglected stocking history or a pond that doesn't hold trout through summer heat, though beavers have clearly claimed it and reengineered the shoreline at some point in the last two decades. Access details are sparse; if you're searching for it on a map, cross-reference with local DEC access or private land boundaries before bushwhacking in. This is secondary-tier Adirondack water — worth exploring if you're already in the area, but not a destination on its own.
Beaver Pond is a three-acre pocket water in the Long Lake township — small enough that it likely sees more moose traffic than paddler traffic, and remote enough that its fish population (if any) has gone unrecorded by DEC surveys. The name suggests what you'd expect: active beaver work, fluctuating water levels, and a shoreline that shifts with the dam's integrity. Without nearby trailheads or peaks to anchor it, this is the kind of pond you stumble onto while bushwhacking or studying a topo map for something quiet. If you're after solitude and don't need a stocked fishery or a marked trail, it'll deliver.
Beaver Ponds — 47 acres southeast of the hamlet of Indian Lake — sits in working forest country where the High Peaks give way to rolling second-growth and a web of private timber roads. The name suggests active beaver work, and the acreage implies a flooded drainage rather than a natural basin; water levels likely shift season to season depending on dam maintenance. No public access documented, no fish stocking records on file — this is one of hundreds of mid-sized Adirondack waters that exist on the map but not in the recreation grid. If you're poking around Indian Lake's backcountry by canoe or on foot, assume gated roads and ask locally before planning a trip in.
Beaver River — not to be confused with the larger Beaver River flow system that feeds Stillwater Reservoir — is a 14-acre pond tucked into the Old Forge working forest, the kind of small water that holds its name on the map but sees minimal foot traffic compared to the Fulton Chain or the bigger ponds off the Moose River Plains road network. No fish survey data on record, which often signals either limited public access or marginal habitat for stocked species — brook trout move through these backcountry drainages, but populations are transient and seasonal. The Old Forge area is laced with private timber company land and gated logging roads; if you're targeting this pond specifically, confirm access and road conditions at the Old Forge Visitor Center before heading out.
Beaver River — the pond, not the river system — is a 4-acre patch of water in the Old Forge area, small enough that it likely sits tucked into second-growth forest off a local road or private land access. No fish data on record, which suggests either minimal pressure or minimal stocking history, and the name overlap with the actual Beaver River (which drains northwest out of Stillwater Reservoir) can make this one easy to confuse on older maps. Worth confirming access and ownership before planning a trip — many small "ponds" in the Old Forge corridor are either private or require navigating unmarked woods roads.
Beaverdam Pond sits west of Raquette Lake village in a quiet pocket of the Raquette Lake Wild Forest — 48 acres of shallow water with the kind of name that tells you what shaped it. Access is by water from Raquette Lake itself or from the network of logging roads and informal paths that thread through the area; this isn't a trailhead-and-sign destination, and local knowledge or a good topo map will save you time. The pond sees more use from anglers launching from Raquette than from foot traffic, and the shoreline holds the mix of alder, spruce, and blowdown common to beaver-maintained flowages. No fish data on file with DEC, but ponds like this in the Raquette drainage typically hold brook trout if they hold anything.
Bell Mountain Pond is a two-acre pocket tucked somewhere in the Indian Lake township — small enough that it likely doesn't appear on most road atlases, and remote enough that it's escaped the DEC fish stocking program entirely. No species data on record suggests either true inaccessibility or water chemistry that won't hold trout, though ponds this size in the southern Adirondacks sometimes harbor wild brookies in the inlet feeder if there's cold groundwater. Without maintained trail access or nearby peaks to anchor a day hike, this is the kind of water that exists on the map more than in common use. Worth a look if you're already deep in the Indian Lake backcountry and hunting for solitude.
Bennett Pond is a 7-acre pocket water in the Brant Lake region — small enough that it likely sits on private land or sees minimal public use, and quiet enough that DEC fish surveys haven't logged species data. Ponds this size in the southeastern Adirondacks often serve as seasonal wildlife corridors and off-trail destinations for paddlers willing to scout access with a topo map and landowner permission. Without documented public access or stocking records, Bennett functions more as a named feature on the landscape than a recreational destination. If you're targeting fishable water in the Brant Lake area, Brant Lake itself and nearby Pharaoh Lake Wilderness ponds offer clearer routes in.
Bens Pond is a three-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough that it likely holds more interest for the landowner or the local who knows how to reach it than for the through-hiker or the touring paddler. No fish species on record, no nearby trail infrastructure in the public datasets, which usually means private land or a walk-in from a seasonal road that doesn't show up on the DEC map. These small ponds scatter across the northern Adirondacks by the hundreds — some eventually open to public access, most stay quiet. If you're headed to Tupper Lake for Raquette River paddling or Rock Pond trail access, Bens Pond stays off the list unless you know someone with a key.
Benson Mines sits west of Tupper Lake village — a 267-acre pond named for the Star Lake Iron Company mine operations that defined this corner of the park in the late 1800s. The water is part of the Raquette River drainage, tucked into second-growth forest where the extractive economy left its mark and moved on. No fish data on record, which generally signals either marginal habitat or a pond that hasn't seen stocking pressure in decades. Access details are sparse — this is working forest land with a mining legacy, not a recreation destination with marked trailheads and DEC campsites.
Benton Pond is a 9-acre pocket water in the Old Forge area — small enough that it doesn't pull crowds, big enough that it holds water through the summer and registers as a named feature on the DEC inventory. No fish stocking records on file, which usually means either native brookies that never got documented or a pond that winterkills in lean snow years. Access and trail conditions vary widely for waters this size in the Old Forge corridor — some have maintained approaches from seasonal roads, others require bushwhacking or permission across private land. Check the DEC Unit Management Plan for the surrounding forest preserve unit before heading out.
Benz Pond is a 26-acre water in the Tupper Lake region — small enough to stay off most touring circuits, large enough to hold a canoe morning without feeling landlocked. No fish data on record, which typically signals either an unstocked pond or one that's gone fallow between DEC surveys; worth a cast if you're passing through, but don't plan the trip around it. Access details are sparse in the standard references — likely a bushwhack or unmarked woods road approach, which keeps the shoreline quiet and the put-in to yourself. If you're already in the area with a light boat and a taste for exploration, Benz is the kind of pond that rewards the effort with solitude more than scenery.
Berry Pond is a 17-acre pocket of water in the Lake George Wild Forest — small enough that it rarely shows up in conversation but large enough to hold a kayak for an afternoon. No fish stocking records and no developed access means this is a bushwhack or private-access situation, the kind of water that sits quietly between bigger destinations and gets visited mostly by people who already know it's there. If you're poking around the back roads east or west of the lake itself, Berry Pond is the sort of name you see on the DeLorme and file away for later — not a headline, but not nothing either.
Berrymill Pond sits in the eastern Adirondacks near Paradox Lake — a 71-acre water with minimal public footprint and no formal DEC access or fish stocking records on file. The pond reads as private or semi-private on most maps, typical of the patchwork land ownership in the Schroon Lake / Paradox corridor where state land, posted parcels, and right-of-way questions overlap. If you're tracing old topo maps or exploring the network of seasonal roads in the area, expect gates and uncertainty rather than trailhead signage. Best approached as a cartographic curiosity rather than a paddling destination.
Bessie Pond is an 18-acre water tucked into the working forest west of Tupper Lake — small enough to paddle in an hour, remote enough that you won't share it with anyone on a Tuesday in June. No formal trail, no DEC campsite, no fish stocking records in the state database — this is more exploratory bushwhack than destination hike, the kind of pond that shows up on a topo map when you're plotting a longer route and makes you wonder if it's worth the detour. If you're camped at one of the nearby private sites or hunting camp access points and you've got a canoe, it's worth the look; otherwise, it stays quiet.
Bettner Ponds — 28 acres, plural name on the map but a single contiguous water — sits in the Long Lake township without the trailhead signage or DEC lean-to infrastructure that draws crowds to better-known ponds in the corridor. No fish species data on file, which usually means either unstocked and wild or too shallow to hold trout through summer — local knowledge would clarify which. The absence of formal access and the quiet reputation suggest this is a put-in-work destination: bushwhack, old logging road, or a local's canoe carry from a nearby lake system. Worth a conversation at the Long Lake hardware store before you load the boat.
Bettner Ponds — a 43-acre pond cluster in the Long Lake township — sits in the kind of low-relief boreal country that defines the northwestern Adirondacks: dense softwood cover, beaver activity, limited road access. The ponds don't appear on most recreational fishing databases, and without trail infrastructure or maintained put-ins, they're more likely to show up on a DEC wetland map than a paddling itinerary. This is working forest country — International Paper and Lyme Timber lands — where gated logging roads and informal hunter access dominate. If you're headed here, assume you're navigating by topo map and GPS, not trailhead signs.
Big Alderbed sits in the Speculator township — a 22-acre pond without formal fish survey data and little documented recreational traffic. The name suggests alder-choked shoreline, which typically means soft approaches, beaver activity, and brook trout potential in the inlet/outlet corridors even if the pond itself runs warm and weedy by midsummer. Waters like this stay quiet: no trail register, no lean-to, no weekend crowd — just the occasional local who knows the access and keeps it that way. If you're mapping ponds in the southern Adirondacks and cross-referencing USGS quads, Big Alderbed is the kind of dot that rewards the effort or reminds you why some ponds stay off the list.
Big Bad Luck Pond sits in the southern Adirondacks near Indian Lake — 111 acres of quiet water with a name that suggests either a surveyor's worst day or a trapper's memorable string of misfortune. No fish stocking records on file, which typically means either native brookies that never made it into DEC surveys or water chemistry that doesn't hold trout; local knowledge would settle it. The pond is far enough off the main corridors that it doesn't show up on most paddling guides, which means it's either a proper bushwhack destination or accessible via unmarked logging roads that may or may not still be passable.
Big Bay sits just east of Speculator village — 159 acres of open water on the upper Sacandaga watershed, named for the wide, shallow cove that dominates its northwestern shore. It's a quiet paddle with mixed access patterns: local camps line portions of the shoreline, and the open sections lean toward wetland margin rather than granite ledge. No fish species data on file, which usually signals light angling pressure and a pond that's better known to canoeists than anglers. On a calm morning in late May, Big Bay is all reflected sky and birdsong — the kind of water that reminds you the central Adirondacks are still more forested than famous.
Big Cherrypatch Pond is an 11-acre water in the Lake Placid region — small enough that it lives mostly in the local knowledge column, not the tourist circuit. The name suggests old clearings or burn scars where wild cherry moved in, a common Adirondack succession story, though the pond itself has likely grown back to mixed hardwood and softwood by now. No fish data on file, which often means either limited access or a pond that doesn't hold populations through winter drawdown. If you know where it is, you know why you're going — and that's usually the ponds worth the effort.
Big Deer Pond sits in the Raquette Lake wild forest — 57 acres, no formal fisheries data on record, and far enough off the main corridors that it doesn't show up on most weekend itineraries. Access details are thin, which usually means either unmaintained trail or private-land complications; confirm current status and landowner permission before heading in. The pond's name suggests historical hunting camps or deer-yarding habitat, common in this drainage between Raquette and Blue Mountain lakes. If you do get there, expect solitude — and bring a compass.
Big Diamond Pond is a remote backcountry pond in the southern Adirondacks, reached by a bushwhack or unmaintained path — no marked trail. Brook trout present; expect solitude and navigation by map and compass.
Big Duck Pond is a 9-acre water tucked into the working forest west of Saranac Lake — small enough that it doesn't appear on most recreation maps, quiet enough that it holds onto morning mist well past sunrise. Access is typically via seasonal logging roads or bushwhack routes known mostly to local anglers and hunters; this isn't a trailhead-and-sign destination. No fish species data on file with DEC, which usually means limited stocking history and marginal habitat — though that also means you're unlikely to share the shoreline with anyone but the pond's namesake waterfowl. Worth a look if you're already back in that country for hunting season or exploring the patchwork of private timberlands and state easement parcels south of the village.
Big Five sits in the dense forest south of Raquette Lake village — a sixteen-acre pond with no formal public access and no fish stocking records in the DEC system. The name suggests either a surveyor's grid designation or an old hunting camp reference, but no historical marker survives in the record. Ponds this size in the Raquette drainage often hold wild brookies or perch that wandered in during high water, but without maintained trails or documented put-ins, Big Five stays off most paddlers' lists. Best known to locals with property access or hunters working the surrounding hardwood ridges in October.
Big Lock Pond is an 8-acre pond in the Paradox Lake region — low-profile, no DEC stocking records, and tucked into a forested corner of the eastern Adirondacks where the terrain flattens out before the Champlain Valley. The name suggests old logging or canal-era infrastructure, though no visible remnants anchor the story today. It's the kind of water that shows up on a topo map but rarely in conversation — shallow, tannic, likely holding warmwater species if anything. Best approached as a bushwhack objective or a quiet paddle if you're already exploring the Paradox drainage and want water to yourself.
Big Marsh Pond sits in the Paradox Lake region — 26 acres of open water that reads more wetland than swimming hole, the kind of shallow pond that warms early and holds pickleweed along the margins. The name tells the story: marshy shoreline, likely beaver activity, and the sort of untracked quiet that comes with water nobody's racing to reach. No fish data on record, which usually means either unstocked and acidic or simply unsampled — common for smaller ponds outside the stocking rotation. Worth a look if you're poking around the Paradox drainage and prefer bog edges to granite slabs.
